“Vasilisochka? Are you waking up?” My father’s questioning tone was followed up with a soft knock on the closed door of his guest bedroom. Because I didn’t answer right away, he continued knocking and calling my name. The persistent beckoning stole me away from my slumber. I squinted at the window and groaned at the dreary grey sky miserably.
I hate getting up when it’s cold outside.
“No, let me sleep.” I protested, squeezing my eyes shut and curling up under the heavy quilt. I wasn’t ready to face today.
“Nonsense, Vasha. It’s almost ten in the morning, don’t be lazy.” Dad scolded with a smile in his voice. I knew he was just teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness in his statement. “Come to the table, breakfast is waiting for you.” My stomach growled at the mention of food, and I sat up to sleepily rub my eyes. Glancing up at the ceiling, an e
Evgeniya lived about 20 miles away from my father, in a small home. Wooden cottage style. I parked my vehicle and double-checked my messages to make sure I had the right place. When I was sure, I surveyed the structure gravely. It was a dark brown house, crafted out of logs and various sturdy materials. Just like you’d see with classic housing, the brick chimney produced a thick cloud of grey smoke. Watching it release into the cold starless night, I reluctantly slid out of my car and grabbed three packages from the backseat. In Russia, we always bring gifts when we’re visiting. Even if the hostess is the mother who abandoned us as a child. I felt the scowl creeping up and struggled to hide it. You’re here to talk. You came on your own, don’t be rude. I scolded myself silently, trudging up to Evgeniya’s front door. Before I could change my mind, I quickly knocked three times.Knock, knock, knock
Just as Evgeniya was carefully setting a plain white tea pot in the middle of her large table, a young blonde boy walked into the dinning room. His eyes almost matched Sasha’s, but were a slightly darker shade of blue. He shared the same ears as Evgeniya and I, and they became bright red once he saw me sitting among his family.“Who’s that?” He asked his parents warily, slowly making his way to the table.“Dima, this is your older sister Vasilisa. She’s come all the way from America to meet you. Have manners.” Evgeniya scolded gently as she began serving my siblings child-sized portions. Kirill grinned at me, gesturing toward the feast in front of us.“You’re so small. You don’t eat in America, yes? Help yourself dear.”I actually put on ten pounds since moving to Arizona, but the backwards compliment made me smile a little as I served myself a few potato pancakes with a hearty dollop of so
Nicole (Brody’s) Point of View:I knew it wasn’t fair. None of it was, to anybody. I didn’t want my friends to start thinking of me as some shitty flake, but I couldn’t tell anyone why I broke up with Liza yet. Mainly because it’d affect everyone else, too.There’s something about Francine though. We’ve always understood each other on another level, and I’ve found myself in situations where I could tell her shit I’d never even spoken out loud before. That includes to Olivia, and Livys been my best friend since grade school.I arrived at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Chicago almost a week ago. It’s surreal being back here, after going through the program myself at one time. At this point in my life, I’ve served six grueling years and clawed my way up the ranks. Many of my fellow Officers report under me now, and I’ll admit it’s strange ordering peopl
Zlata Likhachyova’s corner bakery has always been popular, ever since I can remember. She’s famous for her freshly baked cookies and Medovik (honey cakes.) That familiar warm, sweet smell filled my nostrils invitingly as I hurried inside. Three people bundled up in heavy jackets and warm clothing waited patiently for their orders, sitting in the only four available seats. I used to hound Zlata about buying a larger space, but she’d wave me off and give me something to “stick my nose in so I’d stay out of her business.” Crowds would come and go, and there were days I’d be rolling out dough, baking, and layering the final products with rich creamy icing without any breaks for eight hours straight.Everyone in Tobolsk came to “Sladkiy obrashchat’sya” for their baked desserts. Even though the establishment was often cramped and uncomfortable, the delectable treats made up for it.
Olivia’s Point Of View:"Answer me Olivia! What’s so hard about talking this shit out!? We’re supposed to be getting married next year. If there’s something you need to say, then say it!” My fiancée was flushed; Fired up, without anything to put her out. I felt frozen in place as I watched Charlotte shriek, grabbing one of our small wooden chairs and hurling it into the hallway desperately. She gets like this when I won’t talk to her.God, she’s so beautiful though.Char’s waist length black hair was tangled alluringly around her toned shoulders as she brought her arms back at her sides. She wore one of the pretty little hand sewn dresses her mom made for her some years back. It was thin. Thin enough that I could see the perfect curve of her breasts through the material. Her caramel colored skin looked radiant against the stark white of the dress,
Liza's Point of View:"You can just drop me off here—yep, by the curb. Thanks." I slurred to the Lyft driver, throwing the door open before the car had a chance to make a full stop so I could teeter on my blush colored high heels. As I straightened up, my head felt like it'd been slammed through a door repeatedly and I had to take several deep breaths as I started stumbling toward Francine's apartment. Don't hurl, Liza. After way too many drinks with Enrique, the tall glass of sexy stud I met at Bar 1 just hours ago, I'd originally just wanted to go home to sleep it off. If he called me in the morning, great. If not, I wasn't too worried about it. I just needed a distraction right now. That's when I got Francine's voicemail. The only thing better than crashing after a long night of drinking is getting ready for round TWO with your bestie! Yeah, buddy. I shimmied up to her door, admi
Charlotte’s Point of View:I just barely got the news about Francine, and Liza wasn’t picking up her damn phone. I tried three times before giving up and deciding to just drive down to Banner myself. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not answer my calls. As I was hurrying out of Applebees -don’t judge me, they’ve got killer specials for Happy Hour- I heard my iPhone 11 notify me of a text coming through.Finally Liza! Fudge. I whipped it out and abruptly stopped walking. My eyes widened in disbelief.Fucking really? Now!? Right now!!?SMS: C’mon baby, just call me? I haven’t heard from you since you flew back to that desert wasteland you call home now. Did your replacement catch on? ;) My EX girlfriend, Andee Calaway, was really doing this. Even after I told her to stop trying to reach out, an
I tried to listen to Olivia and stop worrying about my girlfriend, but I didn’t have a good feeling about the way things were going at all. I turned my phone off after getting her text message, and attempted to calm myself down mentally long enough so I could lay down and doze off for a few hours. Napping is a luxury I never had when I lived in Russia. There was my full time job, the impossible time difference between Francine and I, and all of the other tasks I kept myself busy with on a daily basis. Since moving to America, all of that went away and I suddenly found myself bored to death. To combat this, I’d go to sleep after studying some English in my text books, and completing whatever chores needed to be done while Francine worked. There was only so much dusting, vacuuming, cooking and yes- even baking- that I could do before I lost my mind. Thus, I fell in love with naps. More often than not, I’d wake up to Francine kissing some part of my body, tha