Chapter 15 Tati
TATI
Ican’t believe she’s gone.
It’s like I dreamed that she passed away and any minute, I’m going to wake up and call her, relieved to hear her voice.
Then we’ll laugh about how silly it is because there’s no way that Marla would ever leave me like this.
After everything we both went through with losing Nicki, she’d never, ever do this to me.
She’d never just leave me alone in this cruel fucking world.
It’s far too sunny out today. We’re all standing out by the gravesite after the whole, drawn out Orthodox funeral.
Marla’s mother came here straight from some little village in Russia, so if there were ever a possibility that she might be buried in any kind of Americanized service, that went out the window the moment she found out her daughter was dead.
She’s being buried in white. The dress she had on was beautiful.
Lying there in the casket with her colored hair in curls and a crown of flowers, she looked like a fairy princess stuck in a magical sleep.
Or just that she was just having an overly dramatic nap.
I don’t know how soothing that’s supposed to be, but it did take my mind off the fact that she’ll never wake up again.
The priest is standing by the casket that’s due to be lowered.
We’re all gathered in black in this little audience, the main event of Marla’s casket right before us.
Her mother’s weeping has been the soundtrack for this entire thing.
Otherwise, her family has been stone-faced… a Mount Rushmore of people.
I, my father, and the prime members of the Bratva are all in attendance.
Including Viktor, who’s been by my side this whole time.
He hasn’t made any effort to comfort me, but then, I haven’t made a spectacle of myself, either.
Can’t have that. My father would throw the locks back on my door if I lost my shit today.
Which isn’t fucking fair. Of any day in the world, I should be allowed to completely lose my shit when my best friend dies of a random gunshot wound.
Yeah. Random. I push that out of my head. I just don’t have the bandwidth to analyze the circumstances of her death right now.
The priest is doing the final prayer now. Good. I’m ready to go home.
I lower my head and as he speaks, I hear my father whisper, “We are expected to be in attendance for the repast. You should say something to Marla’s mother while we’re there.”
“Yes, Papa,” is all I whisper back. I hate it when he’s right.
Marla’s mother’s home is humble. Much more humble than any of our other friends were when I was growing up.
When her father was alive, he had a big problem with her connection to the Bratva, hated that she was seeing Nicki, even.
As a result, any time Nicki offered to do anything that might elevate their station, even a little, her father rejected him entirely.
So, this house has a modest-sized living room with couches and armchairs that have a faded flower pattern, a wooden coffee table with chipped edges, and old landscape paintings that look like they were bought from a secondhand store.
And I’m sitting here watching as Marla’s family mixes with mine and my father’s top generals.
It’s enough to make an FBI agent ejaculate with glee.
At the moment, I’m watching Yanny talk to my father in the far corner of the room. They look like they’re conspiring, but I think that’s just how they always look, huddled up together like lovers discussing whatever devious plans they’re hatching together.
A plastic cup filled with punch is handed to me. I take it and look up to see Viktor at my side. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I don’t say anything. It’s a dumb question. Of course I’m not all right. I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again. Viktor sits down next to me on the couch.
“It was a beautiful service,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a traditional Orthodox funeral before. I didn’t know her family was so devout.”
“Her mother is. Her father was, when he was alive.” Probably why he hated my father so much. I don’t know what Marla’s mother’s excuse is. She’s currently decided to interrupt Yanov and my father’s conversation at the moment.
“Her mother seems to have a good relationship with your family,” Viktor says. “That’s good. Nikolai will probably offer to take care of whatever expenses are incurred. Marla was very close to you, after all.”
Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think I care. I glance over at him to see he’s not looking at me. He’s watching the room just like I am.
“Are you assigned to watch me?”
He shakes his head. “You lost your best friend today. That warrants someone looking after you.”
“And that’s you? Watching over me like some father figure.”
He looks at me curiously, then he looks away. “If that’s what you need.”
My heart jumps a little in my chest the way it did that first night we were together. That feeling of his hands on me, guiding me, encouraging me… protecting me. I didn’t know how much I needed it until he was right there.
Goddamn him. He says something like that and I’m back to questioning his role in my life. In this baby’s life.
My stomach starts to turn. This periodic morning sickness is a bitch. “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask him.
“Straight ahead, down that hallway.” He nods his head toward the entrance leading out of the room. I get up and leave.
In the bathroom, the bile starts to rise just as I kneel down in front of the toilet. I vomit my breakfast, then sit down next to the toilet, my hand over my belly. I’m not showing. I looked it up, and I probably won’t start showing for another month and a half. God, time is running out.
Since I’ve decided to keep this baby, I’ve been toying with the idea of finding a way to run. It’ll take money and resources—two things I just don’t have. But I’ve got to figure a way to get it.
Maybe I can strip again. Just until I start to show.
Find a way to sneak out of the house and back in without my father knowing it.
He’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when I’m gone, though, which I personally find to be hilarious now.
When I was sixteen, I could have skipped town in the middle of the night and it would’ve taken him two days to even know I was gone.
Now I can’t sneeze without him knowing it.
The waves of nausea have passed, so I stand up and turn on the faucet to wash my mouth out. I do, swishing the water around and spitting it out. After the second go, I turn off the faucet… and I suddenly hear talking.
Where’s it coming from? I look around the bathroom and realize the noise is coming from the vents. Somebody from the other room is talking.
The nearest vent is near the door, so I kneel down and listen. It’s my father’s voice…
“Chapter is closed. Finally,” he says. “Little tramp caused me no end of problems when Nikita was alive.”
My stomach cramps and I have to cover my mouth as the bitter taste of bile comes back. I listen further, trying to hear the other voice, but I can’t make it out.
“She was a boil on his existence,” he continues.
“You know, she’s the reason he didn’t get farther in the ranks.
He was supposed to be my successor. He should have at least been a brigadier by the time he was in his twenties.
But the little gutter trash kept her foot on his neck.
” He laughs. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.
Men will move mountains for a woman who gives good head. ”
He’s talking about Marla. He’s talking trash about Marla. My entire body starts to vibrate with hurt and anger. Of all the days in all the world, today he decides to talk trash about her?
My eyes start to sting with tears as his voice continues. I stand up in an effort to get away from it, to stop listening. I can’t. He’s just going on and on about her. I need to leave.
I walk out of the bathroom, and the second I’m in the cool air-conditioned hallway, a sob gets caught in my throat. I’m losing it. I’m about to completely lose my shit.
I walk out into the living room, struggling to keep from shaking, struggling to keep the tears away. I need to leave. Where’s the door? Where’s the fucking door?
“Hey.” I feel hands on my shoulder. I look up to see that Viktor is holding me. He peers down at me with concern. “You okay?”
I try to speak, but a sob stops me. I have to swallow it as the tears come running down. “Take me home, please,” I manage.
He doesn’t question it. He just nods and wraps his arms around my shoulders, then leads me out of the house.