Moving to the city of South San Francisco wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It was allegedly summer. I asked my older brother is the seasons were mixed up here. He smiled and said no, since the city was near the ocean and the weather was notorious for being "bi-polar". My older sister, Yekaterina, had finally earned enough money for us to move out here. All of us had originally come from the so-called Commie Nations. I was from Belarus, big brother Ivan was Russian, and Yeka had been born in Ukraine. Yeka had adopted Russia and I from a shelter on the border of Switzerland and Austria. We had been going from foster home to foster home through out Europe until Yeka came and saved us. She didn't like Europe all that much, but she loved travelling the continent. On a trip in England she met a fellow by the name of Arthur. He had told her that he was moving to the city since he had found a house there and that they should keep in touch. After a few months he called and told her that the house next door was up for sale. And she should move to America. She had agreed, but it would take her 2 years to get enough money for it.2 years later, there we were, sitting in the dark green minivan, driving down the one-way street to the 2 story house Yeka had broke her back for. I was 8 years old, the year was 2003.
I had the window rolled down, the wind blowing my hair back and up. Boys cruised down the streets on things they called "skateboards", with black hoodies and skinny jeans. Girls on the corner played Double Dutch and drew on the sidewalk in bright blue and pink. I wonder if I could befriend these other girls. Were they the same age? And why did they all have different hair styles and colours?
Yeka finally pulled up to the little house we were going to be living in. Light blue, white trim, black shingles, polished brick porch, and black door. It looked okay to me, but I would come to resent it as high school came around. The house next door looked the same as ours but different colours. Dark red, blue trim, white door. Same porch.
A man was sitting on a lavender chair that was on the porch; he was sipping tea and reading the newspaper. As we pulled closer I saw him look up and….smile?
Yeka got out of the car and approached the man, while Ivan and I got out and dragged out our suitcases. We stood by the car awkwardly until we saw Yeka wave us over. The moving truck had pulled up by this time, so we didn't worry about our bags being stolen. As we approached I noticed how tall this man was. He had these brilliant green eyes that shined like jewels.
"Arthur, this is my little sister and brother, Natalia and Ivan."
He kneeled in front of me , took my hand and lightly kissed the top of my knuckle. "Charmed."
"N-nice to meet you…" mumbled, taking a part of my skirt in both hands and curtsying.
He then turned to my brother, shaking his hand. "Ah!" He remarked. "That's a strong grip you have there." Ivan stayed silent. Arthur stood straight again and turned to my sister. "Would you like to come in?" he asked casually.
"Yes, thank you. But I need to direct the moving men where to the boxes; please keep an eye on them til I get back."
Arthur nodded, and on that note she left.
The inside of Arthur's house was simply grand. We took a good look around as we took our shoes off at the front door. Framed pictures of queens and pirates hung on the wall, fine china sat in polished cabinets. Ivan gasped at the sight, I merely drank it in. Arthur broke the silence, asking "Would you two like something to drink? Maybe tea?"
We accepted his offer, and he disappeared to the kitchen. We found the living room and sat on the plush couch, swinging our stockinged feet in silence, looking at the Vinyl records hanging on the wall. Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, The Who.
Were these American bands? I had never heard of them in my life.
I heard feet pounding upstairs; my natural instinct was to cling to Ivan. He smiled and assured me nothing was going on. But fear was clear in his eyes anyways. Then I heard the yelling. Arthur had kids? Was he married? A loud scream pierced my thoughts as a small blonde boy hopped down the stairs, a red cape tied around his neck. He somewhat glared at Ivan for a bit, before pointing at him and proclaiming that we were on his property or something idiotic like that.
They seemed to argue for a while, then I heard him say something he still regrets to this day. "What are you, a Commie?"
From behind, I saw my brother's hands curl into fists as he looked down at him. "Ivan…don't do anything.." I squeaked. The boy looked past my brother and at me with blazing blue eyes. "Woah! Is that your sister?"
Ivan looked back at me, confusion written all over his face. "Uhm.. da. She's my sestra…"
The boy bounded over to me and got in my face. For some reason, the most vivid part of that moment was that his breath smelled like greasy fast food, maybe hamburgers or something of the sort. "Wow, she's really cute."
I could see his face better this time. His hair was more of a dirty blonde, and had a peculiar strand of hair that seemed to stay up no matter what hair product was used.
" M'name's Alfred! And I live here with my daddy! What's your name?"
"N-natalia…" I softly inquired. He crinkled his nose at me. "Doncha mean Natalie?"
"No. My name is Natalia." I repeated, somewhat annoyed at his ignorance.
"Pretty name for a pretty face. So, what's with Huge McScary guy over there?"
He stuck his thumb in my brother's direction, who looked like he really just wanted to tear Alfred's head off. "That's my big brother Ivan…."
"Big brother? Well then."
He backed away from me, approaching Ivan. "Pretty girl's big brother? This makes us rivals!"
Ivan stared. Was his stupid boy serious about what he had just said?
Ivan sighed and replied with "I'm not looking for rivalry. All I ask is that you not hurt my sestra in any way. Or else."
"Ha! Or else what?"
Ivan grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground. "Hurt her and I will snap your neck like a flimsy twig, capeche?
"Ca what?"
"UNDERSTAND?"
Alfred yelped. "Y-yes sir!"
At this time, Arthur had returned with the tea. "Alfred! What did you do this time?"
Alfred gave him a look of surprise. "What? Dad, it's not me, it was all this kid!"
"MY NAME IS IVAN."
"I DON'T CARE."
I jumped off the couch and hid behind Arthur, holding onto the cloth of his sweater vest. "Both of you knock it off now!"
Ivan released Alfred, landing him on his bottom. "Alfred, go upstairs."
"But dad-"
"NOW!"
The self-proclaimed hero scurried up the stairs, leaving us three. I van sat back on the couch. His face hid behind his scarf, but I could see how red his ears were turning.
"What happened?"
"Alfred called big brother a communist."
Arthur snorted. "A communist? That dunce, why would he say that? Everyone knows that Russia hasn't used communism in years!"
Ivan looked up at him. "You understand…?"
"But of course!"
Arthur took my hand and led us over to where he was seated. "Listen ol chap, don't mind Alfred. He's a bit of a twit when you first meet him but he grows on you."
Yeka arrived soon after, and we spent the rest of the evening with Arthur, who treated us to dinner, talking about how things ran in America. Yeka mentioned how I was turning 8 next month, as it had been the ides of July then. Arthur suggested having my birthday with him and his family. I found out Arthur had 2 more kids, Matthew and Angelique. He said that he and his partner (I would find out later why he never said wife) adopted children after they moved in together. They all knew they were adopted but loved their parents anyways. We listened to his records and soon I was able to tell the difference between John, Ringo, Paul, and George. I was happy and had been enjoying myself, but, to my dismay, Yeka had told us that it was time to say goodbye to Arthur because we still had work to do at home.
When we had said our good byes to Arthur and his children, we headed back home. Back in Europe, I had to share a room and bed with Ivan. Neither of us minded, we were both young, and fit perfectly in each others arms as we slept. Here, we had our own beds, our own rooms, painted and decorated in the ways we had requested. I late found out that Arthur had helped Yeka pay for some of the paint jobs here, as she was still having money troubles here at the time.
I loved my room; Yeka had it painted the way I had asked her; the way I had pictured my dream room as a little girl. Dark purple walls, with a dusty pink ceiling and white flowers stenciled on the deep blue door frame. 5 cardboard boxes, each labeled with what their contents were, had been stacked by my bedside. We didn't have very many possessions in Europe, so not many boxes were there. I had two for clothes, one for toys and shoes, and another for my favourite pillows and stuffed animal plushes. The smallest one, right one top, held a few art supplies I had saved from Europe.
I was able to unstuck the boxes and began to unpack my things, popping the lid off the box that held my clothes. I simply hated wearing pants as a child, so the only clothes I owned were simple blouses, skirts, and dresses. Pants were never appealing to me and I wouldn't even wear them as pajama bottoms.
On top of my faded white dress was a small plastic bag. I pulled it out and set it on my dresser, sorting out the contents before returning to my clothing. The bag had contained my hair bows, birthday presents from Ivan.
Ever since I found Ivan when I was 3, he had given me a new bow every year. There was a pastel pink from when I was 4, a black satin one from my 5th birthday, another that was once pearly white, but was now faded, from when I was 6. Today I was wearing the one that he had given me last year. It was made of silk and a creamy peach colour. I would never question where he got these gifts, nor did he ever tell me where. Even if he had stolen them, I would not think of them or his gratitude any less.
After I had carefully folded every blouse, my stockings, hung every skirt and dress, and sorted and arranged my shoes, I moved onto the smallest box. On top was my mini white board, along with the black marker and eraser it came with. I had used it to help with my studies at home with Ivan. I set it down and decided it was too warm in my room, so I went over to the window to let in some air. Looking outside, I could see the top floor of Arthur's house, through the window I saw someone looking back at me.
Was that Alfred? No no, that's not him. He has shorter hair, and that stupid strand wasn't sticking up. So…who was it? He waved to me, which I returned. He spoke, but I couldn't hear him, so I put a hand up to my hear, signaling I didn't understand him.
He ducked down, then came back up, holding a whiteboard like my own. On it was written
are you the new girl
I quickly retrieved my white board and responded.
yes. who are you
Matthew
Alfred's brother?
Oui.
I scrunched my face in confusion, and I saw him close his eyes and laugh as he erased his board and wrote back.
im french. it means yes
We continued to have our conversations that way for the rest of our summer. I learned that he was continually being mistaken for his brother, but it was never the other way around, so I felt a little bad for him and felt a little guilty that I had done the same. I also found out a few things about Alfred, how he gets over protective over girls when he likes them. I had not known about "crushes" until Ivan explained to me the night before we were to have our first day of American school.
"A crush, sestra, is when you have a certain feeling about someone. Not like a friend, but a warm fuzzy feeling, like you want to hug and kiss them and marry them." he had told me.
Just another part of being a kid, I had assumed.
