Maria
CHRISTMAS EVE
A few cards sit on the mantel among a twisty wire of bright lights. The Christmas tree stands in one corner, its branches covered in twinkling lights and ornaments from the attic. For the first time in a long while, the living room furniture is draped in cozy red-and-green throws, and a plush white rug adds to the holiday style. The scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air downstairs, but none of this is enough to put me in the mood.
The only thing that makes me smile is a sonogram of my baby propped up on the mantelpiece.
Dad sits in the kitchen wrapping gifts. The sound of paper folding and the cut and the hiss of tape being pulled off the spool is calming, like white noise. I stare at the colorful presents crowded under the tree with big loopy bows.
I want to care that Christmas is tomorrow, but I just don’t.
It’s hard to care when I can only think about Mikhail.
“You don’t mind that they’re coming over?” Dad enters the room, picking at a roll of tape, trying to get the end started.
“No.” I shrug. “It’ll be nice to have company.”
Dad hands me the roll of tape, and I pick at the stuck end. “They invited us to New Jersey, but I didn’t think you would want to make the trip.”
I nod and concentrate on the tape instead. I want to throw it across the room, but the end peels up, and I hand it back to him. No, I never want to see the Lanzzare mansion again.
“It’s fine. I really don’t feel like going anywhere.”
Dad takes the tape out of my hands, and I feel his steady gaze on me. He won’t give up. No matter how hard I try to pretend that I don’t notice he’s worried.
“Maria,” he starts. “I won’t tell you that you’ll get over it. That would be insulting. But it does get better, I know. One day, you’ll think about him and smile instead of feeling sad.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Maria. I thought I was protecting you.”
I rub my forehead, holding back tears. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to see what life was like. I didn’t expect an adventure. And I would have resented you for keeping me here if I hadn’t left.” I look up at him and muster a weak smile. “I understand why you did what you did, and I love you for it.”
His arms wrap around me, and I hug him tight. “You still have choices, Maria. You don’t have to stay in Holtsville forever. You just have to be careful. That’s all. You might meet someone.”
I shake my head. “My heart belongs to someone else now.” I rub my belly and smile. “I’ll take care of her. She’s my world.”
I said it to make Dad smile, but instead, he looks at me with concern. I want to reassure him that it will be okay, but I know what he’s thinking. I’m about to make the same mistakes he did nineteen years ago. But at least he understands that I’m the one deciding to stay put.
The doorbell rings, and I use the excuse to end our conversation. The cold reddens my cheeks when I open the front door, and there stands Mercy. Her beautiful smile is a happy contrast to the freezing temperatures and my down mood.
“Happy holidays, cousin!” She wraps me in a bear hug that brings back good memories as Uncle Vito pats me on the shoulder.
Dad stretches out his arms. “Come on in.” He pecks Mercy on the cheek as he hugs her and then Uncle Vito. He takes their coats into the kitchen, and Mercy’s gaze goes straight to my huge belly.
Concern dims her smile. “How are you holding up, Maria?” she asks quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I lead her into the living room and lower my voice, even though Dad and Uncle Vito are discussing the latest news on the streets. I pique my ear for any mention of Mikhail or Gunsyn, but all I hear are names that I don’t recognize.
“Truthfully, I’m not doing so well,” I admit to her. My smile turns into a pained grimace.
Mercy’s eyes soften and she hugs me again tightly. That singular gesture is what breaks the dam, and I burst into ugly sobs.
“Sorry,” I manage haltingly as I wipe my face. “It’s the hormones.”
But Mercy frowns, unsure if I’m making a joke or excuses. She holds my hand, and her pity makes me cry even harder.
“Let’s sit down.” She guides me toward the couch. We sit knee-to-knee as she rubs my shoulder. “C’mon, Marie, you can tell me the truth. It’s not the hormones, is it?”
I shake my head and take a deep shuddering breath. “I miss him. And it’s not going to change. Whether in a year or ten or forever. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him.”
Mercy doesn’t dare tell me it will be all right, and I’m thankful for it. “What will you do when your daughter asks about her father?” she asks.
I shrug my shoulders and stare at the lights blinking on the tree. “I guess I’ll have to make up something.”
“Marie …” Mercy pulls away, shaking her head. “Someday, your daughter will find out, and she’ll go looking for him. You have to be able to discuss it honestly, or else …” Her voice trails off, so I say it for her.
“This will just happen again.” I hug my belly protectively.
“Only if you keep Mikhail a secret from her.” Mercy places her hand on top of mine. “We have to accept what we are if we want to take that first step forward. Accept that we’ll never be ordinary people, no matter how much we want to be.”
I roll my eyes. “What happened to the Mercy who took me in all those months ago?”
The smile dies on her face as she glances away, her gaze staring at a distance. “She went to therapy. Dad insisted.”
Guilt bubbles up inside of me. Mercy has been through a lot on account of me. I should’ve asked how she was doing.
“Are you still working at Somewhere Bar?” I ask anxiously.
“Not anymore.” Mercy shakes her head. “Dad wants me to meet a nice boy and settle down.” Slowly, the grin returns to her face. She waits for a beat before she speaks. “Do you think Mikhail will try to see the baby?” she asks softly.
“I know he will.” Biting my nail, I nod. “You know as well as I do that Mikhail won’t give up. He might be keeping his distance for now, but …”
“Have you heard from him at all?”
“He has his orders.” I shake my head, and suddenly tears are stinging in my eyes again. “And so do I.”
“Marie.” Mercy tugs me against her, and I take her hand in mine. “Think of it like this. You went to New York City to get your baby. Sure, it was rough, but you had to go to bring her back home with you.”
I wipe my eyes. “That’s a silly way to look at it. But I like it. I left home to get my girl.”
Mercy squeezes my hand. “Hey, want to come with me and go see the tree at Rockefeller Center?” she suggests, trying to lift my spirits. “Get out of Holtsville, even if it’s just a day?”
I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “No, I can’t. I’m done with all that.” I stare at the tree. “I’ve had enough drama for a lifetime.”
The thought of being in the city so close to Mikhail hurts me. What would I do if I saw him? I would run straight to him and then what happened next would be all my fault. At least this way, Mikhail is safe and alive.
Dad and Uncle Vito return to the living room, carrying a tray of hot cocoa. As if on cue, snowflakes begin to drift down from the sky outside the large picture window. We sit in silence, sipping hot chocolate and watching the street turn fluffy white. The moment seems so cliche. The Insta-perfect family enjoying the holidays together. The peacefulness of the scene is a brutal contrast to what all of us have experienced.
For a moment, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things can be different.
“Y’know,” I say thoughtfully, leaning my head against Mercy’s shoulder, “Holtsville isn’t such a bad place to raise a baby. It’s quiet, safe … a world away from everything.”
“That’s true,” she sighs. “You’re strong, Marie. You’ve survived unimaginable odds and managed to keep your soul intact through it all. Your heart is banged up, but it’ll heal. Your baby will have an incredible mother who’ll do anything for her.”
“Like my mother.” I reach for a card on the coffee table and pull the picture out of the envelope to show Mercy. She takes it from my hand and smiles at the photo of my mother with Zhanna. “I wish I could’ve known her. But I have a feeling she’s watching over you.”
My eyes fill with tears, but I smile as I put the photo carefully away. I can’t erase the Bratva from my life entirely. My child will always carry the sins of her father, and I can only hope that the love I give will be enough to shield her from harm.