ROSE
The party was massive. I probably should have guessed that there would be a whole lot of people when I saw the sheer amount of food that Olena and Karolina made, but I was still surprised to see just how many people were packed in this tiny house.
Since I knew practically nobody, I stuck by Viktoria or Paul most of the evening. Even though we had only met less than 24 hours ago, me and Viktoria (or Vika, as she preferred to be called) had hit it off. Dimitri once said I reminded him of his youngest sister, and I could see why. She had the same blunt humor and penchant for trouble as I did. I could tell that had we grown up friends, we would have caused chaos and left havoc in our wake.
Max had dropped by at one point to say hi, but with so many guests, I wasn't able to chat with him for long. He made the suggestion of getting together sometime next week so he could show me around the town a little more and I eagerly accepted. After he left, many other people introduced themselves to me, sometimes in English but mainly in Russian, with Viktoria translating for me. Some of them asked about Dimitri, which didn't surprise me considering he hadn't been home in so long. Every once in a while, they'd share a little tidbit from his childhood, and while most of them were sweet, there were one or two embarrassing stories that I planned to hold on to like fodder for the future. They weren't quite as juicy as some of the childhood photos Vika and his other sisters had shared with me, but they were fun nonetheless.
A sudden weight made me stumble as Paul jumped up on my back, playfully trying to tackle me despite the fact that I was in a skirt. He was much too big for me to carry for long, but I was able to give him a little spin before depositing him on the couch.
"Has anyone tugged on your ear yet?" He asked so casually I thought I had misheard him.
"It's tradition," Vika explained. "For each year, you get a little tug on your ear for good luck." She eyed Paul for a moment before stressing, "It's meant for kids. Rose is too old for things like that."
When Paul's face fell a little, I jumped in. "Hey, I'm not that old. I'm pretty sure I can still have my ears tugged. Do you want to do the honors?" I gathered my loose hair back in one hand, leaving my ear exposed to him. At least it was better than birthday punches.
"Один, два, три…" He gave a sharp little tug as he counted out each year, with me silently counting along in English. At twelve, I was starting to wonder if punches would have been less painful. I nearly asked him to let up a little, but it was over almost as quickly as it had begun. As soon as he released my ear, he stared me down with a shockingly serious face. "Расти большой – не будь лапшой."
Several of the adults chuckled around us at his antics, his finger wagging just in front of my nose. I glanced over his shoulder to Vika, who was barely holding back her laughter. "He said, 'Grow up – don't be a noodle.'"
"A…noodle?" I don't think I could have been more confused if a kangaroo had hopped through the door.
"It's another tradition. It basically means 'grow tall, be strong, and don't be foolish.'" She rolled her eyes at the strange birthday wish, not bothering to explain anymore, even though the whole 'noodle' thing still left me scratching my head. Turning back to Paul, she pointed to a group of other children around his age running around in the backyard and playing some sort of game of tag. "А что, есть кто-то другой, кого ты мог бы раздражать?"
He stuck his tongue out at her before running away, calling over his shoulder to me and nearly running into one of the other partygoers. "Bye, Rose!"
I started walking towards the dining table where all the food was laid out in hopes of getting one of the little Hot-Pocket looking things. I mean, they obviously weren't Hot-Pockets. They were a million times better. They had this sorta spicy (but not really because nothing was spicy here) ground beef and cheese filling wrapped in bread and fried. Piroshki, I think they were called? Either way, they were my new favorite thing in the world, and I had already had two. Thankfully, I could see one more on one of the plates, but I felt another tug on my arm before I could reach it.
"Over here, Rose. Бабушка wants you to meet someone." Vika pulled me towards the old lady and the man and woman she was talking to.
"But…" I took a double take at the table as someone took the last Piroshki. Damn it. I swear that Dimitri's grandmother knew exactly how to get under my skin. To prove my point, when I eyed her (trying not to glare) she just gave me an expectant look with the same raised brow that everyone in the Belikova family had managed to master. With a resigned sigh, I followed Vika towards her. "Fine."
Yeva said nothing as Vika introduced me to the pair standing beside her. The woman was Moroi, about thirty, with stunning strawberry-blonde hair that I would have coveted when I was younger and thought my dark hair was boring. She reminded me a little of Lissa, beautiful in almost a regal way. The man (who I could only assume was her husband by the way he stood close to her and rested his hand protectively on her lower back) was Dhampir, much to my surprise. It wasn't unheard of for the races to hook up here and there, but marriage wasn't something you'd see very often. I think the only dhampir/Moroi marriage I knew of was Mason's parents. He was also probably over a decade and a half older, putting mine and Dimitri's age difference to shame. It was easy to see that they loved one another, though.
"I'm Mark," the man said, letting me make the first move before shaking my hand. I'd begun to notice that pattern with the men I was meeting tonight. When I asked Vika earlier, she said it was a respect thing about being non-presumptuous. Personally, I thought it was a little strange, but I could appreciate the thought. As soon as I released his hand, he gestured to the woman. "This is my wife, Oksana."
"Zdraztvuytye." I was going to master that word by the end of the evening.
Almost everyone I had met had been interested in me, asking questions and wanting to know what brought an American girl to a small town in Russia. I never gave them the whole truth, especially since there were more than a few humans among everyone else, but I had constructed a mostly-true excuse for my being here. Mark and Oksana looked interested in me in a different way, however. An almost uncomfortable way.
While Vika offered them the well-rehearsed story, Mark and Oksana seemed to almost look inside me. I felt myself tensing under their gaze. Mark's eyes narrowed a little, almost as if he was suspicious and a little wary, but Oksana just tilted her head and pursed her lips.
"Are you sure?" I heard Mark whisper in English as Vika continued, completely unaware of the strange exchange happening right under her nose. He was clearly talking to his wife, but I hadn't heard her say anything. Before I could question what they were talking about, I felt a strange fluttering in my head that made me jump back. A small wave of heat followed by an instant chill ran through my body. The whole thing felt incredibly disorientating, especially since I had no clue what had caused it.
Oksana looked back towards her husband and gave him a gentle smile while Mark barely held back a look of surprise. I wasn't sure what happened, but I was starting to think that one of these two had something to do with it. Whatever it was, I didn't like it and wanted to tell them to knock it off.
"It was wonderful meeting you, dear. I would love to have you over for lunch sometime," Oksana said sweetly, as if everything was completely normal. The sudden one-eighty left me spinning and struggling to catch up. "I'm sure Mark would love some help in the garden, too."
"I…what?"
Yeva said something too quickly for me to pick up.
"That sounds wonderful," Mark replied.
I looked at Vika, hoping for a quick explanation because I was totally lost at this point. "She said that you'll bring some garden bricks over to their home next week."
"But–"
"Happy Birthday, Rose." Mark handed me a small envelope that I quickly thanked him for. I already knew what was inside without looking. This wasn't the first time that one of the guests here had approached me with a gift, usually a small amount of cash. I had almost returned the first one because I couldn't accept money from someone who I didn't even know, even if it was my birthday. Vika had put a stop to that quickly.
"It's rude to come to a birthday party without a gift for the birthday person," she had said seriously as if she was urging me not to push the big red button on a machine and blow up the entire house. "And it's even ruder not to accept the gift. Mama will kill you if you don't take it."
So I had taken each envelope graciously after that, offering them a quick spasibo before they either returned home or moved on to other guests. The pockets of my cardigan were almost weighed down with envelopes, so as soon as Mark and Oksana left, I went upstairs to empty them onto my bed alongside the other handful that I had brought to the room earlier.
It was so much quieter up here. Even though it was my party, I was tempted to just hide away. I didn't know anyone, and it was exhausting trying to remember the faces and names of everyone I had met in the past few hours. My brain felt a little fried from the constant Russian, too. It felt overwhelming with so many people in the house and speaking all at once. I might have been able to pick up a few words here or there, but for the most part, it all just seemed like noise. It made me miss the familiar. The comfortable. Maybe I could call Lissa or Dimitri. No, Dimitri was working. I could text him, though.
(Rose) I wish you were here. There are so many people here at the house, but it still feels lonely.
I waited a moment, but there was no immediate reply. I sighed, disappointed but unsurprised. Dimitri was busy, and I couldn't expect him to drop everything just to reassure me when I was missing him.
Quickly flipping over to my other messages, I saw a few quick ones from both Lissa and Adrian.
(Liss) OMG that outfit is adorable!
(Liss) I hope you're having fun at the party. I got you the peanut butter you wanted, weirdo. I'm not sure when it will get there. Hopefully soon.
(Liss) Christian says hi.
(Liss) [image]
(Liss) [image]
(Liss) Happy birthday again. Call me later if you get a chance.
I laughed at the myriad of texts she had left me, most of them within the past few hours. The first picture was of her, Christian, and Eddie all in the cafeteria. The next had come in a few minutes later and was of three chocolate donuts with 18 birthday candles stuck half haphazardly through all of them. Now there was a party I wouldn't mind crashing right now.
Adrian had sent me a text a little while ago, too. This morning, he had sent me a selfie of him tossing a smoldering cigarette on the ground with the caption:
(Adrian) For your birthday, I'll refrain from my 'cancer sticks' and only have one drink to toast the birthday girl.
When I had told him that I couldn't think of a better birthday gift, he quickly replied with:
(Adrian) Let's see if you still say that when you see what I sent you.
(Rose) None of you are good listeners. I SAID NO GIFTS.
The text that I was opening now was just an image of a short crystal tumbler filled with some sort of dark amber liquor. I would guess whiskey or bourbon.
(Adrian) Happy birthday, little Dhampir. I'll see you in your dreams.
Before I could text him back, a new message came through. This one from Dimitri. I quickly flipped to our earlier conversation.
(Comrade) I'm so sorry, Roza. I wish I was there with you, too.
(Comrade) Soon. I promise.
Soon? That one word had my heart racing.
(Rose) What do you mean soon?
There was another short pause, the three dots hinting at his reply blinking on and off as he left me on the edge of my seat. I was still waiting when a knock on the door made me jump. Sonya came in without me inviting her and gave me a little side eye as she saw me sitting cross-legged on my bed, my skirt pulled over my knees, and my hands clasped around my phone.
"They are all waiting for you downstairs. It is time for cake."
I glanced at my phone again, willing Dimitri's message to come through before I had to leave. "I'll be there in just a second."
She rolled her eyes, slipping back through the door. "Just do not take too long, okay?"
As soon as I heard her footsteps fade down the hallway, my phone pinged.
(Comrade) I love you, Roza. Happy birthday.
Ugh. I was tempted to send him back a selfie, gif, or emoji of the middle finger. Maybe all three. However, I decided that wasn't the best reply to his sweet yet infuriating message, so I just sent him a little heart emoji and put my phone back on the charger by the bedside.
The moment I stepped into view of the party on the lower level, people started singing a song I didn't recognize. I assumed it was some version of the birthday song. Paul raced to grab my hand and practically dragged me through the crowd toward Olena and a big chocolate cake lit up with candles. Once the singing stopped, I gave Paul a little nod, and we both took a big breath to blow out the candles. Several people clapped, and Karo started cutting slices for everyone who wanted some. I was given the first slice but hadn't even taken a bite when something else was passed to me. A little shot glass filled with clear liquid strong enough to burn my nostrils with a single sniff was pressed into my palm. Within moments, it seemed like every adult (and a few not-quite adults) was holding an identical glass.
The room quieted a little as Olena raised her drink, scanning over the crowd but letting her eyes linger on me a little longer before speaking.
"My dear Rose. You come to us under difficult circumstances to bring a blessing into our lives and the life of my son, Dimitri. His joy is my joy. Your joy is my joy, as well. I am blessed to have another daughter under my roof, and I look forward to getting to know you more through the years."
She quickly repeated what I assumed were the same words in Russian, which was just as well because I was a little stunned and needed a moment to absorb the fact that she had publicly declared me one of her daughters. I don't know why that hit me so hard. She might have been just being nice, but the way she compared me to Dimitri—whom I knew she loved wholeheartedly—and said that our joy was hers as well made me think that she might have actually been telling the truth.
I had only known Olena for a week. Less than a week, actually. Yet in that span, I had lost one mother and gained another. I had gained an entire family, including a sullen sister, a rambunctious nephew, and a slightly terrifying grandmother. They weren't perfect, but neither was I, and that was okay.
"За именинницу!"
The entire crowd echoed her final words and then tipped their little glass back. I followed suit, expecting the typical burn that accompanied the vodka that I had come to know back at St. Vlads.
Instead, I was met with what I could only describe as filtered jet fuel. I wasn't sure if I had tastebuds anymore, so I couldn't say if it was 'good' or not, but it was certainly strong.
I coughed, sputtering a little on instinct as my body tried to reject the vile stuff, and I heard several people laugh at my reaction. Nobody else seemed to be as affected by the drink, so I blinked back the tears in my eyes and tried to laugh it off with the rest of them.
"What is this?" I whispered over to Viktoria as glasses were refilled around the room.
"Vodka." She gave me a big smile that lit up her entire face. I knew she was doing all that she could to not tease me mercilessly in front of everyone. I probably wouldn't hear the end of it later.
"No, it isn't." I looked at the empty glass as if it had personally offended me. "I've had vodka before."
"Not Russian vodka," she replied with a wink. A bottle appeared between us, offering the two of us a refill. Viktoria allowed her glass to be filled before giving me an expectant look until I held out my own glass.
Another toast was given, this time given by a familiar man that I hadn't expected to see here. A man that I wasn't thrilled to see here either.
Abe was speaking in well-practiced Russian, not speaking my name but Olena's. No one translated for me, but it was clear that whatever was being said was being directed towards her. After a moment, everyone raised their glass in salute before drinking once more.
"Cheers," I murmured under my breath, unable to keep up with whatever the others were saying but feeling the need to say something before I downed my second drink.
Over and over again my cup was filled, and over and over again toasts were given. Five. Maybe six? Or was it seven? Either way, I was feeling it. The drinks were going down easier each time, and that wasn't a good thing. Eventually, however, there was a lull in the drinking that allowed me to get a little more food in me. I had finished my earlier dessert, but something told me that a slice of chocolate cake wouldn't be enough to keep me upright for long.
I stumbled as I stood, grabbing Vika's shoulder for a bit of stability. I hated that she looked practically sober in comparison to me. There was a hint of pink to her cheeks, but I was past tipsy and heading straight for drunk.
"Are you okay?" She asked, actually showing a bit of concern. God, I hope I didn't look like I was wasted.
"I'm fine. I'm just going to get some food. And water." Everything swayed for a moment, and I waited for the world to right itself once more before letting go. Halfway through the kitchen, I decided to hit the restroom first so I could splash some water on my face. Maybe that would help things.
The water felt cool on my face, instantly providing me with some relief and helping me appear a little more stable. It didn't cure me entirely, though, because my reflexes failed me the moment I opened the door and ran directly into an obnoxiously over-dressed mafioso.
Instead of apologizing, I immediately jammed my finger into the center of his chest.
"Who are you? How do you know my name?" I'm sure my attitude and accusation would have been intimidating in almost any other circumstance that didn't include me half-drunk, but he didn't seem phased in the least. In fact, he laughed.
"I know that Russian vodka is strong, but surely you remember introducing yourself to me."
I didn't let his brush-off distract me from the answers I needed. "No. You called me Rosemarie. Not Rose. Rosemarie. Only a few people call me by that name, and I can tell you right now that I'm not fond of any of them. Now I'll ask you again; Who are you, and how do you know my name?"
Abe glanced down the hall and towards the main party. My voice had been gently rising, and while we hadn't gathered an audience yet, it wouldn't take much more for people to start noticing our argument. I didn't want to cause a scene in Olena's home, but the need to know what the hell this man was up to clawed at me.
He pulled a bit more into the quiet of the hallway, silently beckoning me away from the main rooms. "The truth is that I'm a friend of your mother. She asked me to check in on you."
The harsh laugh that automatically pulled from me sounded almost like a bark. "My mother doesn't have friends. And if you really were her friend, then you would know that she disowned me. She doesn't give a shit about me anymore. She made that perfectly clear."
While I had accepted that fact, it didn't make it sting any less. And on this day, in my current state, thinking about my mother's last words to me hurt.
Perhaps this man knew a little more than I initially assumed because his expression softened. "Your mother has a temper. Something I am starting to think you two might have in common, actually. The point is she said some things that she didn't mean. I promise you; she still cares. Your mother still loves you."
I hated the small bloom of hope that sparked within me. I shouldn't care what my mother thought or felt or whatever. She was the one that abandoned me. I should just forget her and leave her in the past like so much else in my life. I was starting over, and I didn't need her judgment and shame weighing me down.
"Until she stands in front of me and apologizes, then I won't believe it." There. An impossible challenge. My mother would never apologize to me, so I didn't need to worry about whatever this man was saying. "Besides, why do you even care?"
A strange silence fell between us, and his expression shifted into something I couldn't quite identify. He looked conflicted, almost like he wanted to say something but couldn't. I waited another moment or two, hoping that he would come out with it but when he didn't say anything, I steeled myself to kick him out of the house.
Yes, he might be a friend of Olena's, and it would be rude to throw him out, but it was my birthday. I felt like I should get at least some say in the people I had to deal with today. He wasn't on that list.
Before I could show him the door, he took a deep breath. The tough-guy exterior was built up around him again, but this time I could see that it was a carefully constructed facade. He was hiding something. I knew because I did the same thing when I didn't want to talk about whatever was actually bothering me.
"I have a vested interest in you, Rosemarie. One that I hope I can divulge soon. Not tonight, however." He reached into his front pocket and pulled out an envelope like so many others I had seen tonight. I took it when he offered it but hesitated when I felt its weight. Most people had been giving me only a few small bills, nothing more than the equivalent of about $20 US dollars, but whatever was in this envelope was substantially more.
I was tempted to open it up immediately and count, but even I had more manners than that.
"It seems that your party is beginning to wind down a little," he noted as the front door closed a bit louder than was probably necessary. I probably wouldn't have noticed if the party had been in full swing. There also seemed to be only a few voices left out in the living room and kitchen. "Perhaps I should take my leave. You still have my card, right?"
I nodded. I had meant to throw it out the other day but forgot, and now it was just sitting on Dimitri's desk, taunting me. I knew I should probably just get rid of it, but I had to admit that I was curious about what Abe had offered before. Perhaps I could talk to Dimitri about the idea of private security and get some of his thoughts on the matter.
"Good." I led him to the front door, ready to see him out, but just before he slipped outside, he turned back to me. "Keep the card and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, okay Rose? Anything. Even if you don't take me up on the job opportunity, know that I am still happy to help in any other way you might need."
I wanted to ask the single word running circles around my mind: Why?
Why did he seem so interested? I still wasn't sure if he was actually hired by my mother or not, but either way, he could have easily made sure I was alive, checked the little box on his hit list, and then moved on to the next target. Why did he seem to almost…care?
"Good night, Rose. And happy birthday."
The door closed between us as I uttered a weak "'Night."
Author's Note
The Vampire Academy tv series wasn't renewed, and I am sad. I was hoping to see the story continue but at least we'll always have original books. Not to mention all the amazing fanart and fanfics out there.
Question of the Week: Do you have a favorite TV series? I adore The Office (it's probably my most-watched series) but I'm a huge fan of Parks and Recreation too.