Alina
“Thanks for using our airlines. Enjoy your stay.”
Yeah, well, I hope I will.
The flight attendant gives me a bright smile, waving a hand as I walk past her. I give her an anxious smile and a nod before taking a deep breath and stepping my foot onto the floor of Chicago O’Hare. Well, welcome back to the United States!
The airport is as loud and busy as the one I left yesterday. But here, I feel much more out of place than I’ve ever felt in London. Probably because I haven’t been to Chicago in almost thirteen years.
I can’t help but slow down in my step, looking around with a weird mixture of anxiety and excitement in my chest. They say all airports are the same, but I don’t think it’s true. Everything here is so different from Britain, and I can feel my heart beating faster. Do I want to go back-or do I want to dive into this new world?
“Oh, sorry.” “Excuse me.”
Of course someone bumps into me, hurrying to get to their gate, and I blink out of my thoughts and grab the strap of my backpack tighter. Okay, where am I supposed to pick up my luggage here? Mom said she’d be waiting for me in the baggage claim area-and the thought makes my chest tighten with nervous anticipation.
God, how fast everything’s changed in the last few weeks! Just two months ago, I wouldn’t even think about being here and seeing Mom again. To be honest, it still feels surreal. I’ve already forgotten what it’s like to have a family-but I hope I’ll be able to get used to it again very soon. I mean, it should be nice, right?
I chew my lip without a second thought, following the directions to the baggage area, while my mind goes back to the past. To the last time I was in Chicago.
You see, I was actually born here, in the city of crime and power. I even have some distant memories of my childhood, when I was surrounded by a huge and powerful family, when everyone was speaking Russian, when
I had my older sisters and cousins to play with. I’d even go as far as to say that I was happy here, even if now I understand what kind of life my family led at the time.
Yes, I’m a member of one of the biggest Mafia families in Chicago, and…god, I don’t even know what to think about it. As a child, I thought it was cool, but now I see it in a different light-especially after my own uncle decided to kill me.
I was ten at the time, and of course I had no idea what was going on when my parents suddenly decided to send me away with my grandma. I remember the rushed preparations in the middle of the night, Dad holding his finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet, and the glint of tears in Mom’s eyes when she hugged me for the last time before nudging me toward the entrance of, yes, O’Hare airport. My life has made a nice circle, huh?
As it turned out, Mom and Dad sent us to the UK where they had a small property in Dorset, close to the shore. Grandma kept telling me that it wouldn’t be long until we’d return to Chicago, but somehow I knew she
was lying.
When the next academic year rolled in, I got accepted into a British private school, and two years later I moved into the dorms to live on school property. Grandma was the only family I had at the time; she’d visit me sometimes, and we would always spend holidays together. Mom would join us once or twice a year, but it always felt as if she was doing it in secret and in a hurry.
Irina, my oldest sister, would sometimes come to visit us with Mom, but neither Elena nor Dad would ever be there. They explained to me that Elena had run away from the family, but no matter how many times I asked them about Dad, they would never give me a proper answer. That is, until a few years later, when Grandma let it slip that Dad had already passed away. I wasn’t surprised-it was expected, considering the kind of business my family was doing-but I felt like another string connecting me to my family had been torn.
When I was seventeen, cancer finally got Grandma, but no one was there to bid her last goodbye. Only a few days after the funeral did I receive a letter from Mom in which she apologized for not being there and explained that it was too early for me to go back. My Uncle Yuriy didn’t want me there, and it was too dangerous to go against him, so it was safer for me to stay in England for now.
I didn’t mind.
My whole life was in Dorset, and even if deep inside I was scared of being left completely alone, I told myself I’d be fine. I had some friends and roommates, and I had a couple of good teachers who encouraged me to apply to a university. I didn’t want to get involved with the Mafia again-I had a dream to be a photographer, and it was more important than the family I barely knew anymore.
And so I did apply to a university in Southampton, got accepted, and spent the next few years working on my fine arts degree. I didn’t hear anything from Mom all this time-until a few weeks ago, she suddenly
showed up at my graduation ceremony. I’m not gonna lie, it made me happy to see her on such an important day, but it turned out she hadn’t come to congratulate me.
When we got to my dorm after the ceremony, Mom revealed that Uncle Yuriy was dead, Aunt Olga had taken over his place, and I could finally come back home to my family. Wasn’t it great? But I didn’t even know how to react. I mean, it’d been years since the last time I saw my family, and it didn’t look like they were particularly eager to see me either.
I had my own plan for the future, and I didn’t really want to change it for them.
When I talked about it with Mom, she didn’t get mad. She only asked to spend a few days with me. And even though at first it was
awkward, I realized later that I had kinda missed her. I never managed to get very close with my friends in Britain, and no matter what I was telling myself, I’d been lonely ever since Grandma died.
I wanted to have my family back. I missed my sisters and cousins. I missed having someone to talk to. I missed home-but could I call Chicago my home again?
I didn’t know, but after some musing, I decided to give it a go. It won’t hurt me to stay here for a few months, right? And if things go wrong and awkward, I can always go back to the UK. The thought makes my heart lighter, and I smile to myself and straighten up, heading to the baggage claim.
I notice Mom and Irina as soon as I get there-partially thanks to their blonde hair that always makes us stand out in the crowd, but mostly because of the three men in dark jackets hanging around them. Welcome to the Mafia world, huh?
“Ah, Alina! Here you are.” Mom is the first one to notice me, waving her hand, and I notice Irina giving me a small smile as well. My suitcases are already next to them, so I guess it saves me the trouble of looking for them.
“Hi, Mom!” I hurry toward them, opening my arms to hug Mom, and from the corner of my eye, I notice that one of the men is keeping an eye on me. What, does he think I’m dangerous? So much for a family reunion.
Irina is next, but it’s been so long since we saw each other that I don’t even know how to act around her. She looks cold and serious with her posture straight, her hair perfectly styled, and her blue eyes behind the glasses even colder than I remember. Still, Irina smiles at me and pulls me into a hug, and even though it feels a little awkward, I can’t help but smile, hugging her back.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Irina says with a quiet chuckle and pulls back, holding my shoulders and studying me from head to toe. “You were so tiny last time we met!”
“Yeah.” I chuckle awkwardly, rubbing my neck and looking to the side. I used to be tall and slim when I was a teen, but over the last few years I’ve gained some weight and, apparently, stopped growing upward.
“You’re cute,” Irina says with a note of affection. She ruffles my hair, making me grimace. “So are you-”
“Ivan spotted Mexicans hanging around,” one of the men interrupts her, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “It’s better to keep moving, ma’am.”
Huh?
“Good Lord,” Mom murmurs with annoyance while Irina nods at the man, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“Alright. Take the luggage. Alina, don’t get lost.”
I frown, eyeing the man who moves to take hold of my suitcases and look at Mom. I’m too tired after nine hours on a plane to comprehend it properly. “What’s this all about?”
“I’ll explain to you later,” Irina says, giving me a quick glance, but it doesn’t sound like she’s too bothered by the man’s words.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mom adds, patting my shoulder, and I nod, unable to hold back a yawn as I follow the men through the airport. “Oh, you must be tired. You need some rest, dear.”
“I need some coffee,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes. As if on cue, I smell a note of coffee in the air. I look up and notice a sign with a steaming cup, and then another one, and another. So I guess it’s true that Americans like their coffee shops.
“Well, I’m sure we have a few minutes to spare, don’t we, Ira?”
Mom raises her voice, pulling Irina’s attention, and I can’t help but smile to myself. It’s kinda nice to have someone to care about me.
Irina pauses in her step and turns to us with a thoughtful hum, and the men in front of her immediately do the same, turning around to keep an eye on us. It’s almost creepy, to be honest, but I guess I have to get used to it now.
“Well, it should be clear now.” She shrugs and looks at the nearest coffee shop before turning to me. “It’s not a problem. Do you know what you want?”
I huff and demonstratively straighten my shoulders. “I can do it myself. I’m a big girl, remember?”
She chuckles, shaking her head with amusement, and I can’t help but smile before taking off toward the coffee shop. I wonder how long it’s gonna take us to get familiar with each other again, but it looks like it won’t be too difficult.
What turns out to be more difficult than I expected is ordering a simple cup of coffee. Why are there no prices? What are these sizes? And how on earth am I supposed to know what sixteen ounces is? I purse my lips, staring at the board and trying not to look too confused, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.
“It looks like you need some help here.” The person steps closer, and the sound of his low, velvety voice makes something inside of me tighten. Ah, damn. I never knew a voice could be so attractive.
I look up at the man beside me-only to go still when I meet his dark eyes and small smirk. He’s tall enough to practically look down at me, with broad shoulders, honey skin, long black hair, and sharp, handsome features that make him look like a guy off the book covers. Damn, maybe he is?
I swallow, not knowing what to say for a moment. It’s the first time a guy like this has decided to come up and talk to me all of a sudden, and I feel a traitorous blush rising to my cheeks.
“So?” He quirks an eyebrow, and I quickly look away and take a deep breath. Okay, time to pull myself together. It’s just small talk, right?
“Yeah, sure.” I nod and look up at him with a smile. “I’d use some help here. Is everything in America so weird?”
He laughs, and I guess I did something right.