Epilogue
Dean Gray. The name on the paperwork. I practiced it and got mad he picked a name I couldn’t fully pronounce because half the time it sounded like ‘Din’ and the rest of the time I’d forget and still call him Vitali.
My last name changed within those first ninety days.
I wish I could say ours was an entirely happy ending, but that’s not how life works. Happiness and grief are always intertwined.
Mama never quite forgave me. She is still around because of the kids, and we talk, but it will never be like it was.
Maxim picked up English fast and did well in school, but it was tough for him. I wouldn’t realize how tough until later, in his thirties, when he got sober after his second rehab.
My choices had consequences, and I think about that a lot. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had split up with Vitali early on, but that isn’t a good thought.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we never left Russia.
I got on that plane, leaving so many things behind. My childhood, my innocence, one of my Ferragamo heels. A beautiful apartment I was supposed to decorate. A program for school-aged boys that I never even got to start. It would form eventually, but I had nothing to do with that. That was later.
There were many times after we moved to the States when I thought it couldn’t get worse, and then it did. But it also got better. A lot better than I could have dreamed of. My husband made sure of that.
He also made sure I got to write, and work when I wanted—although four kids made that a bit difficult to manage. My English is still rough, but I learned that Americans love it when a heavily accented Russian teaches ballet. It feels authentic to them. I do it on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
My favorite student is named Dasha. She told me she wants to learn Russian, and her parents were thrilled when I offered to tutor her. She comes over three days a week, and almost always stays for dinner.
I can’t talk about Vitali’s work now, all I can say is he is the most capable man I’ve ever met, and ruthless in protecting what’s his. I’ve never had to worry about money. Never had to worry about a good school for our kids.
There are certain things that will never go away, but I have made peace with that.
I still talk to Misha. Vitali (God—blyad—I mean Dean) talks to him too, a lot more than I do, but I can’t talk about that either. All I can say is old ties don’t loosen with time.
He comes to visit at least twice a year, and they aren’t always personal visits, but he always stays in our home, and whether or not Vitali agrees, Misha will always have a seat at our table.
Life is complicated like that.
I might not be a good person; in fact, I know I’m not, but I don’t regret what I did.
I chose Vitali, and he chose me.
***
Thank You
My sincerest thank you for reading this work.