Two Years Later…
"Reznikov, let's go."
The order came from a young correctional officer who had just walked unceremoniously into the medical unit where Galina Reznikov was sitting on the edge of the bed she'd been assigned. There were two hospital grade beds in this room, the one nearest to the door currently vacant. The mattresses were thick and comfortable, not luxurious, but the sort of bed most people were accustomed to sleeping on regularly. Had it not been for her serious injuries and the pain that kept her up at night, staying here might have felt more like an extended vacation. At least when compared with sleeping on a hard cot in a dormitory with countless other women.
"I'm taking you back to the camp," the guard explained. From a loop on his belt buckle he pulled out a pair of shiny silver handcuffs and waved them in front of her.
"I need to cuff you before we head up."
"I know the drill," she replied flatly, briefly recalling how humiliating and horrifying it had been the first time she'd been cuffed by the arresting officer she'd met outside her store. Now it was just a matter of fact, a routine aspect in the life of a prisoner, and there was no use getting upset about it.
Still seated on the bed, trying to prolong the time until she would be forced to stand on her own, she held her arms out in front of herself cooperatively. The handcuffs were shackled onto her wrists in two clicks and then at last she stood.
"You sure you're ready for this?" the guard asked, gripping her elbow tightly more in an act of humanity than for control, as she wavered slightly on her feet.
"Oh, yes," she replied, rounding her shoulders back and focusing on centering herself so that she'd be able to make the trek back to camp without incident.
They probably would have kept her under observation for at least another week. Actually, the doctor who'd authorized her release from the medical unit that morning had advised against it before ultimately abiding by her wishes. There really was no reason to keep her lying in bed once her broken ribs and concussion had begun to heal anyway. Though she still needed rest and recuperation, life in prison didn't stop for anyone and she was eager to get back into the game and return to defend the territory she had carved out for herself at Litchfield's Minimum-Security Prison.
Nothing could be more important than that.
It had been so ironic to walk into the prison kitchen for the first time and see another inmate unloading familiar wooden cartons of produce from Neptune's onto the counter. The sight of those boxes had filled her with resentment and distaste, before she'd figured out how to make it work for her.
Ganya had been willing when she'd had Dmitri relay a message from her to him. He respected the strength and acceptance with which she had accepted her prison sentence. And though he'd essentially threatened her to ensure she'd do just that, Ganya still appreciated how she had protected him and his assets, keeping all suspicions away from himself.
Hiding little treats and home comforts among the fruits and vegetables he sent to the prison had been nothing, and it had worked out even better when they'd begun collecting payments and fulfilling orders for the other inmates as well. Even from prison, Galina Reznikov was still highly of use to him and Ganya was pleased to see that she was smart enough not to hold a grudge against him for what had transpired.
Or perhaps she just hadn't learned anything.
Hitting rock bottom, being arrested, and accepting a guilty plea that ensured she'd be locked away for a long time hadn't been enough to keep her from utilizing her connection to Neptune's to gain power in the prison. While she'd arrived at prison afraid and humbled, intent to stay on the straight and arrow to avoid anything more going wrong, when it came down to it, she really did have nothing to lose. Her association with Ganya was a unique advantage that had wholly improved her quality of life at Litchfield. The respect she gained from her ability to smuggle in contraband that other inmates desired was priceless and allowed her to climb up the prison ladder. Although it ultimately had painted a huge target on her back.
"Healy wants to see you in his office first," the guard spoke as they entered the camp grounds and he removed her handcuffs.
She nodded, trying to disguise the way her chest was heaving and her heart pounding, just from the exertion of walking. Exercise of any sort was likely to be a challenge for awhile until she returned to full strength. She'd been injured badly and bedridden for weeks. It was only natural that she would be a little dizzy and lack stamina, but it would do her no good to show any signs of weakness around here.
"You sure you're alright, Red?"
Being called by the name she'd dubbed herself with since her first day of prison was like an electrical jolt that energized her to full capacity and reminded her of where she was once again. Red, was the strong woman who had scary associations with the Russian mob, which was indebted to her after her taking the fall for their whole operation. Red, was the woman who ruled the kitchen with an iron fist, was competent, formidable, and capable of getting you what you desired (within reason) because she had connections to the outside. She was respected and admired by inmates and the administration alike. Red was able to survive in a place where Galina would have floundered. Something as simple as a name could have a profound effect on how you considered yourself.
"Of course, I am," Red answered strongly. She pulled her shoulders back and gave the young correctional officer one of her haughtiest looks. "I'll head there now."
At the guard's nod of dismissal, Red turned to confidently walk into the building and down the hall to where the counsellor's office was located. Sam Healy had been one of the first people she had met upon arrival at this prison. A good man, around her own age. Healy had paid her several visits in medical and relayed messages from her husband, which she hadn't bothered to reply to yet. As her counsellor, it had been Healy's responsibility to inform her next of kin about what had happened.
Healy's claims that Dmitri was very worried about her and would appreciate a phone call had fallen on deaf ears. Whatever he was pretending to be now, the fact of the matter was that her husband had never been there for her like she'd needed and though she'd made bad choices, he was still at least partially responsible for her being imprisoned in the first place.
Red had no patience to listen to her husband's decrees of regret, remorse, or worry whilst he remained at home, with their children, comfortable and unaffected from the repercussions of both of their choices. At least aside from losing his full-time cook, maid, and childcare provider, Dmitri's life hadn't really changed. He'd managed to avoid any charges for his role in the mafia, due greatly in part for the fact that his wife had made a statement in court that had her take full responsibility for the crimes committed in their store.
As much as Dmitri did irritate her, Red had never even seriously considered bringing him into her mess, even if that might have shaved a few years off of her sentence. It simply wasn't worth it. She was going to prison no matter what and bringing him down with her would have just been foolish. Not only that, but it would have deprived her sons of the only parent they had left. Dmitri had never been very involved in their upbringing, preferring to leave the weight of everything solely on her shoulders, but he was still their father and that counted for something.
From what she heard, Red sensed that her imprisonment had brought Dmitri and their sons closer together, the way tragedy often did. They'd been completely lost without her in the beginning and the whole family had seemed to be on a downward spiral without her there to hold them all together. Dmitri was a poor replacement for her shoes, and Red knew that the boys had been fending for themselves in ways they'd never needed to before. Fortunately, they were resilient and the two years that had come and gone had gotten them adjusted to a new form of normal, which no longer included their mother.
Red didn't phone home much, feeding her family excuses as to why she couldn't. She didn't see what good it possibly could do. Each time she spoke to them was nearly unbearable, and it would take her days to begin feeling moderately okay again after. She tried not to think about them too much, hoping to spare herself more pain. It was the hardest thing she had ever needed to do. Since the first moment she'd cradled her newborn Yuri in her arms, her life had revolved around being a mother and prioritizing her children over all else. Suddenly, she didn't have that. She was all alone here now and not in a position to do anything for her sons. She'd needed to look away, and she truly believed it was the best thing for her boys as well. They needed to learn to live without her. It was the hardest lesson they had ever been given but distance seemed essential for them all to get through this.
Taken away from her family, Red had different priorities now. She had only herself to depend on in here, and really only herself to worry about. All that seemed to matter was maintaining the strong reputation she had worked to forge since shortly after her arrival. She knew with absolute certainty that the last thing she could allow herself to be perceived as was weak. That was why it had been crucial to return to the general population as soon as she'd been decreed moderately healed.
The last time she had been seen by her prison peer group, she'd been whimpering on her own kitchen floor with blood on her face, not able to bring enough air into her chest to sustain herself. Red didn't want to be cooped up in bed after an attack like that for too long. Already she could only imagine the rumours circulating around the prison about herself. She'd fought to be discharged as soon as she could, intent on beating the odds, returning quickly enough to impress those who'd observed her suffering, and show her attackers they'd messed with the wrong person.
XXX
Healy's door was partially ajar, so Red let herself in, bumping her fist against the door once to announce her arrival.
"Welcome back," Healy said warmly, lowering the pen he'd been writing with down onto his desk.
"Thank you," Red said thickly. She concentrated on lowering herself into the chair in front of his desk without wincing or displaying any sign of discomfort upon her face.
Her ribs were still painful and her jaw ached from the blows to the face she had suffered, but on a surface level at least, she knew she looked good. Most of the bruising and swelling in her features had gone down, and what still was detectable had been covered with makeup she'd applied that morning. Foundation blended into the still yellowish tinge around her eye and jawbone. To counteract the way the coverage made her porcelain skin look even paler, Red had learned to apply a pink blush to the apples of her cheeks. Winged black eyeliner, a thick coating of mascara, and the dark red she'd painted her lips with did not suggest at all that she had spent the better part of a month recovering in bed.
"You look like you're doing better," Healy said, looking her over with a critical eye.
"I feel better," Red said simply. She stroked her hand back over her long mane of red hair, clenching a mass of it in her fist. She'd worn it the same way for all of her adult life, hung loose around her shoulders or pulled back in a bun or ponytail when she was working. All of a sudden, her tresses were bothering her. A trademark symbol of a person who was girlish and naive, and who didn't exist anymore. At least not in here.
"And you still haven't been able to remember who it was who attacked you in the kitchen that day?" Healy asked sternly.
"It's not a case of not remembering," Red replied smoothly, releasing her hair and leaning her back against the chair. "I was attacked from behind and didn't see who it was."
"Romano didn't seem to see them either," Healy said flatly, the look he pierced her with letting her know he didn't believe a word she was telling him.
"Norma found me after they'd already left," Red replied, as her mind flashed back to how frightening it had been to see her closest friend blocked by two women, while three more took turns kicking at herself as she fell to the floor and knew nobody was going to get help. Vee hadn't even bothered to stay and watch her ordered assault. After dealing Red the first blow across the face, she had walked away without any remorse and left her gang to finish the job.
"Galina," Healy's voice spoke softly, and the sound of that name made Red lower her eyes down to her lap. So lyrical and gentle. Nobody called her that now, aside from Dmitri during his visits and the rare times they spoke on the phone. For Healy to use that now felt exceedingly personal, as though he felt he had the right to try and connect to the woman she used to be, who didn't belong in here.
"If you tell me who it was, I can help you," Healy was saying softly.
At that Red could barely hold back a derisive laugh. She'd heard that line before and however well-intentioned Sam Healy might be, she knew it was complete bullshit. Nobody could help her and giving someone up, even someone she despised and who deserved it, would make everyone in the prison population regard her with suspicion. You didn't name people to the guards, just like you didn't identify a mafia boss, like Ganya, to the police and expect to walk away unscathed.
"Healy, I know you mean well but this isn't a battle you can fight for me, and it's not one I need your help with either," Red told him confidently. "I can handle myself."
At that Healy's lips twitched into the slightest flicker of a smile. News of Red's attack had spread through the prison and though the administration had suspicions of who was behind it, without her confirmation they were powerless to proceed. However, what had transpired had only intensified the respect allocated to the woman who had been doing such a stellar job of running the kitchen for the past two years. Everyone knew the assault was undeserved and her refusal to name names had proven that she could be trusted.
"That you can," he acknowledged.
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded overtop his expansive middle as their eyes locked on one another. Healy observed the way Red's own clear blue narrowed and just how her lips thinned as she braced herself for where she feared he was going. She wasn't wrong.
"Have you spoken to your family?"
"Healy!" Red said sharply, instantaneously breaking their eye contact as she looked towards the door in disgruntlement. Such a sensitive subject. They'd been all she could concentrate on two years ago when she'd sat anxious and distressed in this very office as a new inmate, but now it was like they didn't exist.
"You've been seriously injured," Healy said gently, as though she needed reminding. "Your husband has called inquiring about you several times. I know it can be difficult, but don't you think he deserves some peace of mine? Your sons-"
"If Dmitri saw fit to tell three children that their mother was beaten within an inch of her life then he is even more of an idiot than I ever gave him credit for," Red said coldly.
She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. "There's nothing I can do for them that will make any of this easier…"
"They aren't children anymore," Healy reminded her. "They're young men. You need to let them decide for themselves what they can handle."
"Well, I tried that with my oldest and he essentially drove all the way up here just to tell me to fuck off and then leave without even a hug goodbye," Red said flatly, as though the memory of Yuri's first and only visit hadn't been like a dagger through her heart.
"Did he really say that?" Healy asked pointedly.
"May as well have," Red shrugged, shifting slightly in her chair and then wincing in pain from the aggravation to her ribcage.
She'd been at Litchfield for the better part of three weeks when Yuri had surprised her by driving up to the prison in Anna's parents' car for visitation. He'd said it was because he wanted to make sure she was alright, but once they'd taken their seats across the table from one another he'd found it nearly impossible to look at her or carry on any semblance of a normal conversation.
He'd shrugged off her inquiries about his brothers and home, before admitting that he hadn't been to the apartment in weeks and he'd barely spoken to any of them. It was a shocking statement for Red to hear, because her sons had always been inseparable. It just reinforced that her poor choices had done more than take away her freedom. Without her there to hold everything together, the family was falling apart.
"Why didn't your father tell me any of this?" Red had asked in distress.
"I don't know, Ma," Yuri had shaken his head. "Does it matter? Do you really want to hear about how hard everything has been? About how Max and Vasily don't even want to go to school because everyone in the neighbourhood is talking about you? Unless you want me to lie to you, I don't know why you're even trying to get any sort of reassurance that things are going okay for us. They aren't...and maybe they were right, and this was a mistake."
"Who's they? What are you talking about?" she had asked.
"I don't think I'm ready for this," Yuri had replied honestly. "I don't think any of us are."
Yuri hadn't been back since and neither of his brothers had come to see her either. She had told Dmitri not to bring them. She didn't need another one of her sons showing up just to make her feel worse than she already did and seeing her in prison was hardly going to be a reassuring sight for them anyway. It was a very peculiar situation to be in. After devoting her entire life to those boys and sacrificing everything to give them the life she thought they deserved, it was a blow to realize she was the worse thing for them right now.
"Don't you think he might have cooled down since then?" Healy asked. "Do you write? Do you call?"
"He knows where to find me," Red said coldly.
Healy compressed his lips together so that he would not be tempted to say anymore. He was not a parent, he couldn't comprehend what she was going through and, in the years, since he had begun working at Litchfield, he'd observed the different ways women had to cope with the loss of their children while they did their time. Disconnecting to some degree was crucial to the inmate's well-being, but it never ceased to be a tragedy.
"Is that all?" Red asked sharply, her hands clenching into fists and then unclenching rhythmically. "I'm feeling tired and I'd like to go lay down."
"Okay," Healy said with a sigh, glancing down at the file folder he had lying open on his desk. "I've got you in room 1A. Bunk three on the bottom."
XXX
"Red!" Anita DeMarco exclaimed. "You're back to join the land of the living!"
Red raised her eyebrows and offered the other woman a small smile which looked more like a smirk, as her eyes twinkled ominously.
"Was there ever any doubt?" she asked, stepping into the small room that contained four metal bunk beds that could house eight occupants.
New inmates were always put in these rooms upon arrival. The closer quarters and the seclusion from the livelier dormitories ensured the guards could keep a closer eye on them. Likewise, inmates, like Red, who were returning to camp following sickness or injury, or who had been committed to the SHU for a time, were given a temporary bed in here. Anita DeMarco, was one of the hall's permanent residents. She'd suffered a heart attack her first night in prison.
Red dropped the laundry bag and pile of linens she'd been given onto the bare mattress across from DeMarco, feeling an uncanny sense of Deja vu as she did. It suddenly struck her how ironic it was for her to have been so eager to be back here, to return to the general population, and her job in the prison kitchen. In the past two years her world had become very small and she'd gotten completely sucked in to this new existence.
Unlike the first time she had been in this very room, back when she'd first arrived at this prison, Red wasn't longing for home or mourning the freedom she had lost. Such things were completely unattainable and wishing for the impossible was a waste of time. Instead, Red desired what she felt she could make happen for herself in this camp. She wanted to get back to work, catch up with the friendships she had made, and continue to sell her contraband in order to keep her status and make a little profit. Her life had completely changed, but it still wasn't over. A victim mentality was not going to do her any good.
"I'd heard Vee really gave it to you," DeMarco said in a hushed voice. She glanced nervously up towards the new inmate clad in orange, fast asleep on the bunk above her, and then she looked back over at Red.
"That was who did it, huh?" she asked. "Everyone was talking about it…"
"Vee didn't do anything," Red rolled her eyes. She pulled out the white sheet and began to fold it over the mattress, ensuring her edges were pulled tight to military precision.
"She didn't?" DeMarco frowned, looking completely confused. "But I thought-"
"People like Vee can never do anything for themselves," Red explained coyly, her lips twitching as she downplayed the actions of a woman she had every reason to fear, but refused to.
"Vee had to get a group of followers to hurt me for her. She is only as strong as the people she gets to do her dirty work. Without them, she's nothing. I know a lot of people like that."
Red reached for her thin prison issued pillow and began to slide the white case over top of it. As her fingers worked, she found her eyes getting heavier. She really had already overexerted herself that day. She was looking forward to laying down for a rest just as soon as she finished making up her bed. Heading into the kitchen to see Norma and check over everything would need to wait. At least she thought she was doing an adequate job of exuding a confidence that would show everyone that Vee couldn't intimidate or keep her down.
"And this was all over your 'connections'?" DeMarco asked curiously, excited to be the first person to see Red and hear the side of the story everyone had been waiting to hear. They had known one another since their first night in Litchfield, having been brought in at the same time. DeMarco never would have thought that the terrified and quiet woman she had seen that day, would essentially be running things around the prison now. She had underestimated Galina Reznikov back then, but now she was impressed by her.
"Mhmm," Red nodded casually. She tossed the pillow aside and then began to tuck the blanket up over the bed sheet.
"A person like Vee is also not very good at coming up with their own ideas," Red said dismissively. "She watches to see what other people are doing and then swoops in to try and take control of it."
It wasn't lost on Red how much describing Vee's actions paralleled those of Ganya. She could have been describing her old boss. Ganya surrounded himself with people brawny enough to carry out his dastardlier deeds, or intelligent people like herself who could create his business opportunities and keep him sitting comfortably.
She'd been officially sentenced on charges for Racketeering, which carried with it a prison sentence of nearly two decades. The charges weren't wrong and deep-down Red knew she couldn't dispute them. She had knowingly broken the law, committed fraudulent acts, and acquired a lot of illegal money through the mafia's activity. Yet, all along she'd been nothing but a pawn to be used for Ganya's own benefit. He was enjoying a life of wealth and freedom, made on the backs of people like herself that had thrown themselves under the bus to protect him. Red wasn't about to become that for Vee now, even if she threatened to break every bone in her body.
"Has she tried anything since I've been in medical?" Red asked, sighing in relief as she at last was able to sit down on her cot.
"Honestly, I think she's been laying pretty low," DeMarco replied. "A little worried you might wake up from your coma and tell the police who did it."
"I was never in a coma," Red frowned. "I've just been in medical enjoying a bed made from a real mattress with pillows that were not paper thin. I could have been back a week ago, but I figured I'd indulge in another relaxing week."
"Sounds pretty nice," DeMarco smiled. "Maybe I should fake another heart attack and get myself admitted for a night or two."
"You could try," Red acknowledged. She leaned her hand back and worked slowly to gently maneuver herself into a lying down position. She was trying to hide just how breathless the simple task of making a bed currently was for her. The way her lungs were heaving to take in more air was causing a stabbing pain in her rib.
She'd rest for awhile and then she would get up to see her kitchen and face the rest of the women when she was fresh. Seeing Vee and her accomplices was going to be a challenge, and only to herself could Red admit how that intimidated her. She didn't think they would be foolish enough to try anything though. The administration still wanted to know who had assaulted her, and though Red would never name names, she knew she was being watched too closely at present for her to be targeted again…at least for now. In that way, she had won.
Tucking her legs up closer to her chest, Red had just closed her eyes and begun to drift of when a voice came over the crackly intercom to begin listing off the names of those who had visitors. She grimaced as the roll was called, her preoccupation with her return to camp had completely caused her to overlook the fact that today was a visitation day. Dmitri rarely missed a week and though in the beginning Red had counted the minutes until his arrival, she hadn't much enjoyed seeing him for awhile. She was acclimated into her life here and had people-people she could honestly say she preferred the company of over her husband. Instead of clinging to him like a life vessel, her one remaining link to outside, Dmitri now served more as a painful reminder. There was nothing he could say that couldn't be shared over the telephone, and one thing that hadn't surprised Red during her hospital stay, was that she hadn't missed him.
"Did he say my name?" Red grumbled, opening one heavy eyelid to glance over at Anita DeMarco.
"Yep," DeMarco replied. "You better hurry, Red."
"Do you think if I just lie here and ignore it, they'll send him away?" she sighed, pressing her still slightly tender cheek back into her pillow. Healy must have given word to Dmitri that she was being released from the medical wing today. Otherwise, how would he have known she was available to visit?
"Get up, woman," DeMarco scoffed, with a shake of her head. "You should be grateful your hubby comes to visit you so faithfully. Mine hasn't been here in six months!"
"I wouldn't worry about it," Red said, gritting her teeth as she used one hand to struggle herself back up into a sitting position. "Sometimes I don't mind prison when I realize it's the first break I've gotten from that man since I was twenty-two. Is it wrong that I find two hundred criminal women to be less irritating?"
"Considering one of them tried to have you killed, I'm going to go with yes," DeMarco replied with a chuckle. Red didn't share much into the details of her marriage, aside from an overall tone of discontentment. That didn't necessarily mean much. Being married for as long as they had been, a little bit of resentment was probably only natural.
"It would take more than that to get rid of me," Red replied. She pulled out the compact mirror from her shower bag to make sure her makeup was still effectively disguising her bruising. Her eyeliner had smudged slightly, making it look ever more dramatic, but she decided she liked the effect.
"I guess, I might as well get going," Red said wistfully.
"He drove all this way," DeMarco reminded her, feeling a little sorry for the man whose wife showed him such little interest. A lot of husbands wouldn't stand by their wives after they were sentenced to prison. Most relationships didn't last six months once they got in here.
"That has to count for something," she proceeded to say. "Although, I guess, I can admit that it surprised me to see you with a man like him the first time he came to visit."
"That's what all the guests at our wedding were thinking," Red replied bluntly.
XXX
Red and Dmitri's visits had become predictable and monotonous very quickly. She never delved into the details of what life was like in prison, always maintaining an aura of calmness and control that she hoped would be a source of reassurance to her boys if they asked their father how she was. Their conversations almost entirely consisted of their sons' news and discussions about the shop, which Dmitri was trying to keep running himself now that she was locked up. Red didn't even want to think about what the place might look like with him in charge but she wanted him to keep it going and offered as much advice and instruction as she could from the inside. Red liked thinking of the light at the end of the tunnel, when she'd finally get released and hopefully return to running the place herself once again.
What would her life be like then? It was a frightening question. She was going to become an old woman while she sat in prison doing her time. When she was released, her sons would be middle-aged, mere shadows of the little boys she'd once loved and nurtured with such joy. She would hardly recognize them. Not only that, but the world could hardly be expected to stay the same. Always changing and always evolving, If Galina had thought immigrating to America from Russia had been a culture shock, she could only imagine what it would be like to transition from captivity to freedom.
It might be too much to hope that she'd have Dmitri to lean on for a second time. Already he'd stopped kissing her lips hello and goodbye, pecking her cheek before taking his seat across from her. She'd served him all her marriage-bringing up their children, keeping house, and satisfying him sexually too. All of a sudden, she was nothing but a burden to him, and it was Dmitri's turn to be there for her. She wondered if guilt would be enough to sustain him over such a long separation or if he would eventually tire and move on with his life. Would she even recognize the signs?
Dmitri had never fulfilled her or been all that she needed but he was still somebody, and she couldn't imagine what would happen if she didn't have him to go home to. It seemed silly to worry-she wasn't going anywhere for a long time. However, as she lined up to walk into the visitation room, Red resolved to be nicer to him today. DeMarco was right that showing up for her regularly was something than the majority of the men didn't do for their incarcerated partners. That had to count for something, and Red made a mental note to tell her husband that she appreciated it before he left.
XXX
As soon as she stepped into the visitation room though, Red was forced to do a double take. Her feet froze to the floor, feeling as heavy as if they had been buried beneath cement. No amount of blush applied to her cheeks could have hidden her paleness as she felt all the blood leave her face, and a suddenly strong need to sit down before she fell over. Dmitri hadn't come to see her today, and nothing had prepared her for the sight that had befallen her.
"Maxim? Vasily?" their names were stuck in the back of her throat, barely audible as her voice crackled.
With difficulty, Red forced herself to lift her heavy feet from the floor and walk over to the table where both of her boys were sitting side-by-side. They hadn't taken their eyes off of her since she'd emerged, both sets were open wide in an astonishment they seemed incapable of disguising. Their hands were gripping tightly to the edge of the table and their feet were flat on the floor. It was her first sight of them in over two years.
Her hands reached out to cling to the chair intended for her. While all the inmates around them were embracing their family members, Red could only continue to stare at hers with a mixture of shock, horror, and a little bit of longing. It was like seeing a pair of ghosts and neither of her sons had made a move to approach her yet. They were looking as unsure about this meeting as she was. Red wondered if their father knew they were here, after she'd told Dmitri to keep them away. And she highly doubted their big brother would approve of them coming.
"My God," Red nearly gasped, biting down hard on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. She took a deep steadying breath, trying to calm the swooshing of emotions coursing through every cell in her body.
"My God...look at you," she whispered. All she could see was the differences in them. The way Maxim had a beard stubble on his chin, even though he'd probably only shaved the night before. Even sitting down, she could tell that Vasily had gotten so tall. He was easily the tallest of his brothers and would now tower over his mother if he stood beside her. They both looked like grown men, and the truth was that they were. Maxim had just celebrated his 18th birthday and Vasily had gotten his learner's permit to drive the month before.
"Is it okay that we're here, Ma?" Maxim asked awkwardly.
Ma
The term of endearment echoed over and over in her head and she didn't know how to respond. It sounded so foreign in this place and the lump of shame building up in her abdomen was making her feel like her insides were tied into a knot. Everyone around her was beginning to take their seats, and because she didn't know what else to do and didn't want to get yelled at by a guard in front of her sons for not taking her place, Red sat down too.
"My God, look at me," she thought to herself in distress. She was seated across from them, in a khaki jumpsuit with an identification tag clipped to the front. Her sons had rarely even seen her in pants much before now. She'd usually worn dresses or skirts, nothing very trendy but she'd always given off the impression of a lady. It was awful to have her sons seeing her like this. Though they had likely mentally concocted images of what she would look like and what they would expect, she could tell from their faces that nothing could have prepared them for this first visit to see their mother in prison. It was why she had never wanted them to come.
"I don't know…" Red said hesitantly. Her hands were set on the table like they were required to be, and she folded them together so that she would not feel tempted to try and reach out to touch her sons in any way. That just didn't feel right to her now. They didn't feel like hers.
"I don't know what to say," Red clarified. "What are you two doing here?"
"We came to see you," Vasily replied.
"Well, I surmised as much," Red answered tightly. "But why? I told you not to. Does your father know that you are here?"
"Pop was going to come today," Maxim told her softly. "But he caught the flu and Kl-couldn't make the drive. We didn't want you to be alone if you were expecting him."
"I wasn't expecting him, actually," Red replied. "I know he can't come every single week and it is not your boys/ responsibility to fill in for him. Nobody should see their mother in a place like this."
At that, Vasily's eyes shifted off of his mother to glance around the room towards the noise being made by a babbling baby in the corner and from several other children who had obviously come to spend the afternoons with their moms. It hurt him to feel so dismissed by his own mother. It wasn't his fault that they were forced to meet in a place like this and it wasn't easy, but the hardest part was feeling so unwanted. His mother didn't even look happy to see them. Had she missed them at all?
"Well...we'll leave if you really want us to," Maxim said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over their table. Red had begun scratching the back of her hand with her fingernails, irritating the dry skin which was already beginning to pinken.
"I just don't know why you're mad at us," he added. "We never did anything to cause this."
"Of course, you didn't," Red exclaimed, ceasing her scratching to stare back up at her middle child. "None of you boys have done anything wrong. Everything that is wrong has been done to you. I'm not upset with either of you. I'm just upset that you're here."
"Well...no offense, Ma, but we're pretty upset that you're here too," Vasily said bluntly. "That's what shouldn't have happened."
"And yet it did," Red said tightly. "This is where I am and I can't change that for you. I would if I could."
"That doesn't mean you need to stop being our mother," Maxim replied.
"I'll always be your mother," Red said softly, not looking at them. Her hands resumed their anxious scratching.
"You don't even call us anymore," Vasily pointed out.
"Because I have nothing to say," his mother replied stubbornly.
She paused as she saw the look of hurt that flashed through both of their eyes. They looked at one another and, in a moment, she felt a sudden surge of panic, that she might have gone too far. That they might stand up and walk away, and this was the last she would ever see of them. That couldn't happen.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, staring down at her irritated hands. "This is embarrassing...nothing I say will make up for it…"
She was being forced to face the guilt and truth that she tried so hard to forget about most of the time. It was the last thing she needed right now. Her body was a mixture of sharp and throbbing pains, her head was aching profusely, and her broken heart had her internally crying. Two of her three sons were sitting across from her, begging to be loved. They'd driven all that way to seek reassurance and everything she was saying was wrong. She just didn't know how to love them anymore. She'd forgotten how to be their mother.
"I love you boys very much," she told them, locking eyes with Maxim and then Vasily, though it pained her to do so. Her voice felt flat and the words sounded odd, but she meant them with her whole heart.
"And your brother too. I love you three with everything I have, even if Yuri hates me now. Even if you two hate me sometimes. It's okay. You're allowed to. I really let you down and you deserve so much more than me. It's because I love you so much that I told you not to come. I don't want to hurt you more than I already have. I don't want you seeing me this way."
"I don't want to see you here either, Ma," Vasily replied. "But it's better than never seeing you at all."
"And I am glad to see you," Red said in a quivering voice. Her eyes flooded with unshed tears and she wiped them away as quickly as they appeared. Though, for once, her mind wasn't on what the other women in the prison would think of her being emotional. She just didn't want to upset her sons by crying. They had her completely undivided attention right now.
"I've missed you," she whispered.
Vasily stretched his arm across the table first, and Maxim was quick to follow. Red unclenched her own intertwined fingers so that she could accept their hands. Rough, warm, and much larger than hers, they enveloped her. She squeezed them back. She was being forced to face the true tragedy of her situation. That she was in here and apart from them. In a short time, they would be leaving to return home and she couldn't go with them. She couldn't be there.
"Maxim, do you remember how excited you were on your first day of kindergarten?" Red asked suddenly.
"I was excited to go to school?" Maxim asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He wasn't sure about the sudden change in his mother's tone, or where her mind was going, but he waited for her to continue.
"Oh, yes," Red nodded. "You couldn't wait to be a big boy like Yuri. You talked about school all summer and wore your backpack around the store everyday."
"What a nerd," Vasily teased his brother.
"I thought you might get cold feet when I walked you into the classroom and passed you off to your teacher for the first time, but you didn't. You just waved at me and then ran over to paint a picture on the easel."
"The one you framed and hung in your bedroom?" Maxim asked.
"The very same," his mother nodded.
"What did I do on my first day of school?" asked Vasily.
"You cried and the teacher had to unwrap you from around my leg," Red answered, without skipping a beat.
"Loser," Maxim teased his brother right back.
"The thing was, darling," Red continued, looking back at Maxim. "You thrived in that classroom. You made friends, you had fun, you were so eager to learn. Do you know what the only part that upset you was?"
"What?" asked Maxim.
"When I'd come pick you up," his mother said softly. "As soon as you saw me, you'd dissolve into tears and I'd feel terrible. Because, while at school you had so much going on you didn't have time to miss me, but as soon as you saw me, you'd remember how hard it was to be away all day…."
She paused, wondering if her sons were perceptive enough to understand where she was going with this. Vasily had always cried when she left, Maxim had always cried when she came back, and Yuri had always tried to act brave and then compensate by ensuring he got extra cuddles from mama in the evening. The point was that they had all gone and done what they had to do. Usually they had even enjoyed themselves.
"I want you to have such good lives," she told them. "I want you to be so happy. That is all I've ever wanted for you. I don't want you to waste time missing me. I just want what is best for you, and I truly believed keeping distance was the right thing to do so that you could move on with your lives because I can't go with you."
The tears she had been fighting to hold back couldn't resist anymore, and she squeezed both of their hands one more time before she pulled away to wipe off her cheeks.
"You have to let us make our own choices," Maxim reminded her. "You can't just decide we're better off without you and sever all ties. We still need you and we still want you."
"I want to come visit you again," Vasily chimed in. It wasn't easy, it wasn't comfortable, but it was much better than not seeing his mother at all. Sometimes the only choices were between which would cause the least amount of pain. Right now, there could be no happy ending.
"You can come visit me anytime you want," Red assured him. "And I'll call you more. I'll...try."
The visitation hour was coming to a quick close and this time when Red stood up, her sons both felt comfortable walking around to embrace her. They'd changed a lot in the past two years, but so had she.
"I love you," she reminded them both, before watching them walk away with a heavy heart that hurt just as much as it had the last time she had parted from them.
The agony of her broken ribs was nothing compared to her broken heart, which felt as if it were literally crumbling in her chest. Watching her sons walk away had to be one of the hardest things she'd ever done.
Was this going to get easier with time? She wasn't sure if she could stand it. How could she ever come to terms with watching them walk out the front door and return to a world she no longer was a part of? It would have been so much easier to look away and spare her wounded soul the grief, but deep in the pit of her stomach, she knew that they were right. They needed a mother, and checking out of their life, even if her intentions had been honourable, was the wrong choice to make, and God knows she'd made enough wrong decisions to last a lifetime.
She bit her bottom lip painfully. She'd have 18 more years and all of entirety to live with the painful consequences of those mistakes. Redemption? Was there any? She sighed, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips as she purposely willed herself not to cry. Her children. Despite how painful goodbyes would be, and how desperately she'd be counting down the days until their next visit, she could never go wrong with choosing them.
Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story until the end.
Thank you Johanna-002 for keeping me going. This wouldn't have gotten completed without your support.