Chapter 4 #2
Things in Russia ended very badly for me.
I quickly shake my head, telling myself not to let my mind go there.
Moving to America was meant to be a fresh start for me.
A new beginning. Meeting Geliy felt like a fairytale at first. He was older, attractive, and Russian—a welcome familiarity after I moved to a foreign land.
Then Sofia happened. Unexpectedly, but a blessing all the same.
We got married and tried to make a go of things.
We have two children now—six-year-old Sofia and nine-month-old Leon.
But after Leon was born, the end of our relationship came about.
Geliy is ex-military and ex-special forces, and he definitely has some deep issues.
He found it hard to settle down to normal life and was always taking security-type jobs away for weeks at a time.
He said that his contracts required him to keep all details of his security work confidential, even from his family, but he said that was normal in his line of work which he claimed was working as a civilian contractor for overseas military forces.
But just after Leon was born, there was a car chase with someone trying to run Geliy off the road while the kids and I were in the car with him.
Geliy discovered afterward that it was a Russian government agent who was trying to take him out because he was working for one of their enemies.
Geliy has no loyalties and will work for whoever pays him the most, but what happened was utterly terrifying.
And for the first time, I truly realized how dangerous he and his work really are, and I knew that I couldn’t risk my safety or the safety of the children.
He refused to change his job, saying that it was the only thing that kept him sane and feeling alive.
I’d put up with his cruel comments about my weight and his blatant disregard of my feelings, but I knew I couldn’t accept that sort of danger in our lives, especially not after all the danger in my past that I escaped from by coming to the States, so that was the end of our relationship.
But whatever has happened between us, he still loves the kids.
And I’m doing what I can to move forward, and I’m going to do it with a smile.
Things might be a bit bleak right now, but we’ll make it through.
That’s what I want to teach my children.
That no matter how bad things look or feel, there’s an end to the darkness—and the storm too shall pass.
If my life has taught me anything it’s that. Keep going. Keep your head up.
It’s a lesson I learned the hard way—that sometimes you have to choose joy as an act of rebellion against the darkness.
My sunshiny nature isn’t naivety. Gennady tried to break me with his cruelty, but every smile I give my children, every moment of lightness I create, is proof that he failed.
And Sofia knows that her mama’s sunshine is real—and that it’s what keeps the monsters away and makes the world safe enough for little girls to dream.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the photos from Sofia’s last figure skating lesson. Her face is pure concentration as she attempts a simple spin, tongue poking out slightly. It’s the same expression I probably had back when skating felt like flying instead of surviving.
That’s what I want to give my children—the joy I felt before everything went wrong.
Before coaches became tormentors and dreams became nightmares.
Sofia loves to skate, but she skates for fun, for the pure pleasure of movement.
I’ll never let anyone steal that from her the way they stole it from me.
I close the photos and open my notes app, scrolling through my ongoing list: “Someday Goals.” Buy a house with a backyard for the kids.
Take them to Disneyland. Learn to cook something other than pasta and sandwiches.
Maybe even skate again—really skate, not just teaching others—somewhere no one knows my history.
It’s a silly list, maybe. But starting that list and the hope it gave me is what kept me alive in that Russian facility, and it’s what keeps me going now.
I’ve learned that if you don’t actively choose joy, the world will bury you in its darkness.
If I let my star stop shining, the darkness wins.
So, I choose to believe in someday, even when today is hard.
The captain announces our descent, and Sofia stirs beside me, tearing me from my thoughts. “Hey, sleepyhead,” I say in a soft voice.
She murmurs incoherently, rubbing her eyes. It’s nearly evening now in Moscow, but she fell asleep hours ago.
I click my seatbelt back on, trying to push the knot of anxiety from my throat. There’s no going back now. No turning around and saying I’ll find another way.
Thirty minutes later, we’ve landed. Sofia’s hands are balled tightly around her small backpack as someone brushes past her.
She flinches and quickly steps nearer to me.
We slowly follow the line of people out of the plane.
The air is just as biting and bitter as I remember.
Sofia tugs her coat a little closer as we exit the airport.
Taxis and vehicles line up outside as the overcast clouds block out the remaining sun.
Sofia’s head swivels from side to side to take in all the sights and sounds around us. It’s a big change from the States, that’s for sure.
“We can find some food first if you’re hungry?”
“Okay, Mama,” Sofia murmurs, nodding at me even as she peers around at the sights.
The area around the airport is filled with crowds of people, and we need to find somewhere a little quieter.
Walking four streets over, it’s finally less crowded.
I spot a small diner and guide us toward it. “Better?”
She nods at me, and a small part of me relaxes as the waitress tells us to sit down anywhere.
“Do you know what you might want?” I ask my little girl.
“Do they have burgers?”
“Looks like it,” I say, examining the menu. The Cyrillic words bring back too many memories, both good and bad. While Geliy and I never really talked about it, we’ve both brought a little bit of Russia into the upbringing of our children.
Sofia’s gaze moves down to the menu between us. “Can I have a juice too?”
“Sure thing, baby.”
The waitress, a woman with dark curly hair and bright eyeshadow, slides up to the table. She takes our order, pops her gum, and disappears to the back.
“So, what do you think of Russia so far?” I ask Sofia.
“It’s…loud.”
“It was pretty loud at the airport. But where we’re going most likely won’t be. I made sure we’re staying close to the rink, and it’s kind of away from the major stuff.”
“Okay.” She goes back to tracing the letters on the menu like she’s been doing for the last few minutes.
She nods again as I check my phone. With the time difference, I know not to call right now to check on Leon, but the itch to do just that gnaws at my gut.
Geliy should be fine. He’s Leon’s father after all, and it’s not like he doesn’t know how to take care of a baby.
But I still can’t stop my concerns gnawing at me.
Initially, I planned to bring Leon with me too, but he was unwell, so leaving Leon with Geliy was the only option if I were to travel to Russia to take this job and avoid homelessness.
“Are we going to call?” Sofia asks, startling me a little.
“A little later we can.” I haven’t heard anything since we left nearly two days ago.
That’s not uncommon for Geliy. He’ll just up and disappear for days, weeks on end and come back ragged from whatever job he’s been on.
But this time, he’s supposed to be taking care of Leon, and that’s causing my anxiety to rise.
Sofia talks through the meal. The tension on her face is gone, and some of that stress in my body goes with it.
After we’ve eaten, we get a taxi to the rink. Sofia is quiet, her gaze glued to the window as the city passes by in a blur of nightlife.
“No one is here,” she says when we reach the rink where I’ll start coaching tomorrow.
“Some people are.” I point out a few cars of people who must be practicing this evening. “I have to check on a few things, but then we can skate for a little and then go to the hotel to get some sleep. Sound good?”
Sofia perks up at the mention of skating. “Okay, Mama!”
I usher Sofia through the automatic doors. Cold air hits us, and a feeling of déjà vu washes over me. The lights are soft, and the plush carpet is something straight out of a nineties movie theater, but it does its job. No one is really looking at the carpet when they come to the rink.
“Go on and get your skates on. I’ll be in there just for a few minutes.” I point to the office window where a burly-looking man on the phone sits. Sofia nods and begins to rummage through my bag.
With one last look at her, I start toward the office. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I walk, like someone is watching me…
Subtly, I glance over my shoulder, but I find no one there.
I shake my head. It’s just being here again that’s making me feel like this. The ghosts of the past lingering.
I put on a sunny smile as the man on the phone levels a glare in my direction and barks some kind of greeting to me.
I sign the paperwork for the coaching job. Three weeks. That’s all, and it’ll give me enough money to make it through the next couple of months while I try to find a new job in Vegas. The generous salary they’re paying me will even cover a part-time babysitter while I’m working here for them.
On my way back to Sofia, I check my phone.
I see that I have at least six texts from Geliy’s mother, Olga.
After I got together with Geliy, her personal mission became to bombard me with messages, criticizing everything from how I was with her son to how I raised our children.
And even though I am no longer with Geliy, she has carried on with this. I skim the latest texts.
“How could you go off and leave the baby with my poor son?”
“Geliy has too much on his plate for you to expect him to look after your baby.”
“A woman’s place is in the home. She shouldn’t be abandoning her duties.”
“I wish my precious son never met you!”
“Geliy deserves a real woman who will look after him.”
“You expect too much from my son. You are always selfish and self-centered.”
I delete all the messages with a sigh.
Sofia’s small feet swing slowly as she sits on the bench, her eyes moving around the rink. “Ready, baby?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.” She scoots over so I can sit beside her and slide my own skates on. Once more, I feel it. That prickle of having eyes following you.
I shake my head and tell myself to stop being paranoid.
For a few moments, I look around at the rink and just breathe. This is still my sanctuary, even with all the bad memories. There’s something about the silence of ice that speaks to my soul.
I think about the little girl I was, who used to pretend she was a princess gliding through a frozen kingdom. Before I learned that dreams could be weaponized against you. Before I understood that loving something meant giving others power to hurt you.
But watching these young figure skaters train, I remember why I became a coach. It’s not just about technique or perfect form. It’s about teaching them that their bodies can be instruments of beauty, not just objects to be criticized. It’s about helping them find their own magic on the ice.
Some people might think it’s ironic—me teaching others to pursue the very thing that broke me. But I see it differently. I’m teaching them to love figure skating the way I wish I could have. I’m giving them the coach I needed but never had.
We start to move toward the ice. “Will you teach me to do the spin now, Mama?”
I smile down at her. “You think you’re ready?”
She offers me a grin as we step onto the ice together. “Maybe.”
“We’ll try it, and if you don’t feel like you can make it, we’ll just have fun.”
She nods as she glides effortlessly. I follow her and skate backward past her to watch, more than ready to jump in if she needs me to. But I’m distracted as a shiver rolls down my spine.
My gaze darts around the near-empty bleachers.
There are a few others here, plus some staff and janitors, but no one I would know. And no one who would know me.
“Mama, watch!” Sofia calls, drawing my attention back to her.
“I’m watching, baby.”
She glides down the ice, getting a little more speed before she lifts her foot like we’ve been practicing. She wobbles a little as she twirls, but she doesn’t fall, and that’s an improvement.
“That was great!” I give her a thumbs up. The smile on her face melts my heart.
“It wasn’t like yours though, Mama.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice, remember?”
She skates around me and tries again, a little stronger with her landing this time. By the time we finish and get off the ice, she’s flushed, her cheeks rosy and her button nose red.
We make our way back to our things. The urge to check my phone is unavoidable.
But there’s nothing. No messages. No texts. No phone calls.
Maybe they’re just sleeping or busy or something.
“Mama?”
“Yes, baby?”
“You’re not taking your skates off.”
I look down at my feet and sigh. “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted because I’m missing Leon.”
Sofia nods, tucking her skates back into the bag.
I try Geliy’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Perhaps he forgot to charge his phone—that’s not unusual for him.
Maybe I shouldn’t have left Leon with his father.
But what choice did I have? It was either take this short job in Russia and the money it was offering, or we end up losing our Vegas apartment and be left on the streets.
I can’t rely on Geliy for money. He no longer lives with us, and even when he did, his work was sporadic and unpredictable.
We already received the eviction notice from the landlord.
I sit there for a second, looking at my phone again.
I know that Geliy isn’t the best at regular contact, but I really wish he wouldn’t go silent when he has Leon with him.
And no matter how much I try to reassure myself, I can’t displace the feeling that something might be wrong with Geliy and Leon.