Dimitri was and is always kind. Oblivious at times, yes. But he truly is kind. We had experienced roughly the same childhood and had parents with roughly the same beliefs. I don't know why I live in this world so broken, so harsh, so calculating and he so…kind. With that said, there is a mean streak in him that will show with no warning. Through the simple tension he can weild, it almost borders on cruel.
My pregnancy with Vasya wasn't difficult really but the world around us was. Despite him shoving me under Ganya's gaze and playing dumb when the men would oggle my impressive bossom during meetings, Dimitri was dotting. He would put up with the hormonal outbursts and never chastised me for the random crying fits. He would massage my aching muscles and would so earnestly tell me how beautiful I was as my self-confidence faultered as I grew. He was so kind and patient. He was perfect, all the way up to the last moment.
Of course, Dimitri and his timing.
It was in the early morning hours and I was baking as I always did. All our pasteries had to be fresh that day and made with no shortcuts. That is what brought fancy business men to our store instead of a shop near by work. Our pasteries were becoming a hidden gem and it was becoming a part of my identiy and my sanity. I was standing over a tray of pirozhkis when I felt the first tightening. For a moment, I thought it was gas but once you had your first you know the drill. I wasn't worried but I knew to be aware.
An hour and a half later, Dimitri trundled down the stairs. His hair messy and his eyes bleary. I knew not to say anything and to just hand him his coffee. I knew he would be pretty much worthless for the next fifteen minutes so I simply placed his breakfast before him.
"I will be gone until very late tonight." Dimitri finally said, signaling he had finally awoken.
"Your baby may need you tonight." I replied, warning of his son's impending birth.
"Ganya ordered, Galya." His tone was icy despite his sleepy voice.
"I might need the car." I replied slowly.
"You? Drive?" he mocked.
I can whip up a delicious feast out of a potato and handful of crumbs but my ability to maneuver a car is less to be desired.
"Dimitri I have pain. The baby is….tightening."
We looked to one another across the flour dusted table. My husband. My partner. My saviour. He was just a foot across from me but by the bored look he wore, he might as well been a million miles away.
"The baby, Dimitri." I repeat "It might be time."
"It takes hours. Call one of the wives."
"I don't talk to the wives."
"That's not my fault! You know I can't ignore Ganya's orders!"
"I know! I just…." my voice trailed off as once more a warmth rippled in my lower abdomen. It wasn't exactly painful but it held a promise of what was to come. Suddenly, I felt his touch and realized Dimitri had made his way to me as I was lost in my anxious thoughts.
"Galya" he said softly, cupping my face "My strong and brave Galya…"
I gave a weak smile before he continued.
"Babies take time to get here. This job is very important and can only happen once. I can't have today be about you."
My heart turned to ice before the rest of my body ignited into white hot fury. How could he not be getting this? It's not like we hadn't been through it before. I wasn't asking him to oversee the delivery for Christ's sake! I simply wanted him to be willing to be available to get his wife to the damn hospital!
"It's about the baby!" I spat before smacking his hands off me.
"I don't have time for this!" Dimitri barked before snatching the keys off the counter and grabbing his jacket.
"That's right go!" I screamed after him "Go off to your little job! Tell your first born how you allowed his mother to die alone in childbirth!"
He was gone before my sentence was through and I lost myself to the tears.
I watch her from afar, my eyes peeking over the horizen of my book. She swivels the mop in her hand with expertise. I forget she was on clean up duty before back at the camp. I like her bangs, it adds to her angelic face but they hide her ever expressive eyebrows. I do love the way her eyebrows shoot up when she's making a point or scrunch along with her expression when she's working through a connundrum.
It's funny. I think I miss camp more than I miss home. I mostly just miss the guards accepting that my girls are my girls and I can be as affectionate as I wish with them, especially with Nicky. I'm pretty sure when shivering drug addicts stopped smuggling in heroine after they were taken under my wing, for once, they knew to back off. I feel so stunted not being allowed to be affectionate.
In the moments I steal when Nicky drops by during her cleaning, I savor the feel of her skin as I cup her chin to examine those tired puppy eyes. Her warmth reminds me she's real. She reminds me that my heart is still beating and my heart beats only to be a mother.
I don't like the way Carol treats her girls. I understand she's not set as the mother, only the boss, but I see so much potential in all the women around her. If she would ease on the suffocation and allow the loyalty to grow from respect her team could be so much more powerful. That said, I enjoy the darkness she brings out in me. I can't lie. I've always had my darkness brewing just below the surface, carefully controlled. But Carol, oh Carol, she has no shame for her darkness. She wears it like a badge of honor. She grins when I admit my fury and laughs at my jabs to authority. She awakens me like Pavel did but in a different way.
I imagine that the light and darkness within us not as the projective beams on stainglass as they teach us in churches and temples. I imagine that the light and darkness we witness stains us. We are marked by what we know, what we see and very much by what we do. I am inked by the wrong I have done. The darkness is splattered in layers across the walls of my heart, those splatters were what I did for Ganya and for my survival. But there are glints of light, glittering jewels hidden here and there in the crevasses, those are my children.
I wish my heart could be beautiful. I wish it could glimmer and glow with gold encrusted walls of all the good I have done, causing my jewels to shine even brighter. My heart could have been a cathedral where God would have been able to smile upon. That will never be the case. My heart is a hidden cave, it is dark and it holds no glory. My gems do not sparkle in the light because the light is rare but they have a glitter none the less. My darkness is there because of my children but because of my children my darkness will never be all there is.
My very first jewel came titering down the stairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes after his mother's yelling had woken him up.
"Mamaushka?" he said with his little voice filled with sleep like his father's but without the malice.
I attempted to fight off my tears before he noticed but the fight with Dimitri was too fresh.
"Why are you crying?" he asked softly
His little arms wrapped around my leg, he pressed himself close to me, he looked up to me with large questioning eyes. He had my eyes, my button nose and his father's quiet disposition. I looked down at those chubby hands grasping at the fabric of my skirt. I love Yuri's hands. I could never say why exactly. They were just always so expressive for such a stoic boy.
"Well" I say with tears in my throat "We have a very busy day today and I guess your Mamushka was overwhelmed."
"Over..ovewh.."
"Overwhelmed. It means scared for how much you have to do."
Yuri released a small giggle.
"Mamushka" he lightly chastised as he burrowed his button nose into my thigh "You don't get scared."
Despite my frustration, I couldn't help but smile at my son's unwavering faith in me. I ran my fingers through his soft blond hair and enjoyed my last quiet moment with my first born. I ushered him to his seat at the table and prepared his breakfast. As my tears began to dry I poured hot water over dry oats, I watched the grain slowly melt into edible mush and said goodbye to looking at the sleepy toddler as my only son. I place a steaming bowl of oats and a glass of milk infront of my toddler. He eats and I continue my baking. He tells me about his dreams, the spider on the wall and the many other issues concerning him that morning. I add nothing until I feel he had his fill.
"I need you to be a very good boy today, Yuri" I said sternly
"Why?"
"Today is going to be very busy for your Mumushka"
"Why?"
God bless this age. So curious and yet so annoying.
"Your little brother has informed me that he would like to join us."
Yuri scrunched his his face in deep thought.
"Today?"
"Yes. Today."
"When?"
"Not sure."
"Before toons?"
I smiled. I want to trap him in this moment. I want him frozen in time, gripping his spoon in his tiny fist, unaware that his mother's undivided attention will no longer completely his, allowed to cry when hurt and dance when happy, unburdened by the weight of the world. My Yuri.
"No. I think you have time for toons. Bring your bowl to me."
Yuri shimmis down from his stool and clumsily handles his dishes.
"Dobroye utro" he says gleefully when he makes it to me, I wipe the remnants of his breakfast from his mouth.
"Dobroye utro" I reply as he places a wet kiss on my cheek before jetting off to the living room to switch on the television.
A lively voice informs us of the next great product happily from the little brown box, a car rumbles by to its morning commute and my back spasms once more with a contraction.
Carol knows her place and keeps it. I respect it. Though once I finished trembling in that salon chair, knowing I wasn't about to be beheaded by rusty scissors, I realized how childlike this woman is. I enjoy ranting with her about the failure of family. Both my biological and prison family has abandoned me. It leaves me breathless with quiet sobs in the dark of the night. But for me when I rant and rave its only letting off steam. I'm simply letting out the pain before it eats me alive. But with Carol, she allowed her emotions to devour her years ago. In my time, I found purpose. My kitchen. My girls. In her time, she just found more isolation. Her rivaling sister. Her barely together gang.
Perhaps that is why I'm drawn to her. Despite us only being five to ten years apart in age, I feel she needs a mother, and here I am. It's my purpose.
It's not just her childlike behavior that worries me. It's her lack of ingenuity. When something fails she tries to fix it by repeating the same tactic but with more force. No wonder this place holds no life. It's the same day repeated but each day is more painful. Thankfully, my ingenuity keeps her happy and keeps me to her side.
Ingenuity. It has kept me alive so far.
My knuckles were white as I gripped my dressor, releasing a strangled cry. It was late. Very late. I had spent the day cleaning about the house and keeping myself busy. The store remained closed. Thankfully, our regulars were aware of our impending child and would understand our momentary absence. A handful of hours before, when the pain began to pass my ability to act normal and hold myself in an upright position, I brought Yuri to stay with the Babushka across the street. She did not look pleased but took pity on the sweat stained woman pleading on her doorstep. She took Yuri's hand and dismissed me with a half-hearted "good luck" before slamming the door in my face.
I never wanted my mother more in my entire life.
I hobbled back to our home and waited for my wayward husband to return. Somewhere nearing ten or so I heard our back door slam along with heavy footseps.
"Galya!" he called to me
"He….HERE!" I called back
Dimitri appeared in the doorway shortly. He was breathless and deshevled. I almost felt relieved until I noticed the blood stains on his shirt.
"What….what did you do!?" I asked hoarsly
"The job…it worked…but things got…"
"Stop!"
I couldn't hear it. I didn't want to. I would have chastised him but I was hit by another wave of agony. I doubled over.
"Get. Me. To. The. Car." I demanded through gritted teeth.
"Galya we can't we…"
"Now."
"I know your…"
"NOW!"
Knowing he was never going to win, he appeared by my side. We had slowly made our way down the stairs when suddenly we were bathed in blue and red. The sound of radios and sirens echoed in the night.
"Your car?" I whined
"No. But they may have seen me speeding back."
Once more I was smacked by another wave.
"I hate you!"
"I know moya lyubov"
"I hate men!"
"I know moya lyubov"
"Take off your shirt."
"What?"
"Do it!"
Dimitri removed his shirt. I snatched it, bunching it in a ball before placing it between my legs. We hobbled out into the night air. A group of cop cars filled the streets.
"Sir, we need you to return to your home!" an officer barked to Dimitri
"You don't understand…" Dimitri began before he was cut out by my cries.
"Oh Jesus" the officer groaned
"I need to get her to the hospital" Dimitri pleaded
"I…I don't think I…" the officer sputtered
"Evans! Maybe you should go handle the looky loos" A mans voice said from somewhere to my right.
It was hard to tell. By then my vision was tunneling and my patience was gone.
"What's your name?" a gentle voice said in my ear
I wanted to form words. Any words. But my breath had been stolen and I could function no more.
"Its ok. You don't have to tell me. Do you understand english? Nod if you do."
Weakly. I nodded.
"Great. I need you to just walk a little bit more. There is an ambulance near by."
I was lost in another wave. I began to cry.
"Hey its ok. You're going to be ok. You know why?"
I shook my head.
"Because that baby needs to enjoy those amazing pastries with my son Joey and I. You really brighten up our Sundays. So I'm going to make sure you're ok."
Peeking my eyes open I some how gurggled out.
"Who….wh..you?"
"I'm Eddy ma'am. Captain Eddie Caputo."
At 11:17pm, Vasily Dimitriovich Reznikov entered the world in an ambulance, surrounded by cops who were investigating the murder they had no idea his father was a part of. They didn't bother to check the shirt I had bunched between my legs. It was discarded quickly. Shortly after Vasily was born we were whisked off to the hospital. Dimitri and his murder crew toasted to the healthy birth of his son, the cops joined in. They sang a couple drinking songs and toasted for many more Reznikovs to come.
On the ride to the hospital I held my Vasily to my chest. He mewled and stretched out his little arms. He reached for me and I prayed that he would never stop reaching for me. My prized little jewel. My Vasya.