Flashback Circa 1977
Flashback
It was a cold day when Alexei was pulled out of class to be informed of his mother’s death.
Well, his father’s as well. But that didn’t register as much as the mention of his mother had.
Sometimes, he dreamed of a day when his father would die.
What he hadn’t calculated for was his mother to follow alongside him.
At the peak of his naivety, he believed that if his father had died, if what seemed to be the root of all their problems finally disappeared, Alexei and his mother would…
He didn’t know what would happen. But he hoped it would have been bright and sunny.
He would have had an eagerness to wake up every day and spent carefree afternoons next to his finally lucid mother.
He hoped.
“Alexei?... Did you hear me?” The voice of a woman he’d never met before rang among his thoughts as his teacher placed what was meant to be a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You parents were ki–” She didn’t finish when his teacher’s hand tightened against his shoulder. “That’s enough. He’s twelve, for crying out loud!”
It was a cold day when his parents were put into the ground. The pair of graves were situated next to each other, but Alexei’s eyes remained on his mother’s. He was sad, but for reasons he didn’t understand, he couldn’t muster the tears to showcase such emotions.
When Alexei was young, younger than he was, his mother would look at him with glassed-over eyes and cup his cheeks.
In those rare moments, she’d hug him close to her chest and sob.
Sometimes she’d sob for what felt like hours.
She would smother him and hold him tight, not willing to let him go, as if he’d disappear if she did.
The only thing understandable from her blubbering words was, “My baby, my sweet rebenka. I miss you, my baby.”
Alexei loved those days because those were the only times his mother had given him her attention and shown him her affection.
But as she fell deeper into her vices, and Alexei found that he could only rely on himself to survive, gone were those moments. Instead, when his mother focused on him, if she ever did, indifference was the only thing staring back.
In a way, he would miss his mother. He would miss who she used to be before he had been born, despite having never met her.
When Alexei Andreeva was dropped off at his first foster home after the death of his parents, he did not know what to expect, but he didn't expect much.
The foster home was owned by Sarah Macintosh and her husband, Ross. They were a generic couple, nothing special about them. They were in it for the monthly cheques, and that gave Alexei a lot of freedom. Or, about as much freedom indoors.
He went to and from school, and after that, once he was home, he could play quietly in his room, or sit in silence, or go to the kitchen for a small meal.
Freedom. Or he guessed that’s how they liked to define it.
They didn't care what he did, as long as it was within their sights and within their home.
That was when he'd gone his first month in years without seeing Cassius. He wondered, always wondered, what Cassius must have thought of him.
Surely, he must have worried over him.
Alexei wished he could just run, run and never come back, but Sarah walked him to and from school, never letting him out of her sight. He attempted to run away, but they always caught him before he could reach any buses.
Then his first two months. Three. Six. Nine.
And before he knew it, it'd been a full year since he'd last seen Cassius, and his thirteenth birthday passed without celebration.
He'd given up hope long ago. If he couldn't go to Cassius, surely Cassius would come looking for him. But he never did.
He'd just… left him.
After Ross' death, Sarah couldn't look after Alexei anymore. So, he was moved. And moved. And moved again. Each home worse than the last. Sometimes, he'd wished Sarah would take him back.
Sometimes, in his weak moments, when he'd be lying on the floor after having taken one too many hits to the head, or back, or wherever the target was that time, he'd cry out for Sarah silently.
She was… nice. Sure, she was often bothersome and smothering. But she fed him and clothed him and cared if he'd crossed the road without looking both ways. There was never a loving smile or an amused look from her, but she was closer to human than the others had ever been.
She did more than his mother had ever done, and maybe that was why he’d tolerated it so easily. She was also the last person that Alexei received any sort of compassion from besides Lily Poole.
Lily Poole was vibrant and clever. She was what every girl in his grade wanted to be, and every teacher’s dream student.
She sat next to him in English, and despite the class reading being an interesting one, given Cassius’s insistence that he obsesses over novels, he refused to focus, as if in protest. One he hoped Cassius was aware of, though, embarrassingly so, he knew he wasn’t.
Perhaps it was pity, but she was always kind to him.
She’d slide her exam slightly towards Alexei for him to copy, though he never did.
He didn’t study, either. When the teacher would call on him to answer, he could hear her soft voice next to him whispering the answer, willing him to take it as his own.
He never did.
The problem with Lily Poole was that she had known him.
And up until his death, that had haunted him.