Bad Boy Rich
We take a walk along the pebbled footpath, silent and with no words left to say. We both felt the same; nervous and anxious about finding Milana. I’m relieved when Phoebe points out a small condo just on the other side of the hill, clustered together with a few others.
Phoebe beats me to the front door, taking a long-winded breath and knocking softly. I stand behind her, anxiously waiting for the door to open and praying she’s here even though the nurses hadn’t seen her.
The sweat in my palms, combined with trembling hands, becomes increasingly apparent as the anticipation mounts. I hadn’t seen her in months. Did I even remember what she looked like? Of course you do you fucking moron, that’s the problem, no one else compared to her beauty and that’s what is driving you insane.
“Phoebe?”
Katya answers the door, smiling instantly and extending her arms to Phoebe. Caught up in an embrace, Phoebe’s eyes begin to cloud and her chin trembles on cue. My gaze moves from Phoebe to Katya. She wasn’t as old as Milana had depicted her. Sure, she had some greys but her face still had an element of youth. She looked a lot like Flynn, only small resemblances to Milana.
“You brought a friend?”
“Uh, no Katya.” Phoebe pinches my arm, yanking me forward. I swear she is a ball breaker. “This is Wesley… Wesley Rich.”
Katya holds my gaze; her quizzical expression making me conscious. Her eye color, light and transcending—carries wisdom. I felt it. She radiated warmth, yet I hadn’t even shook her hand.
“Listen, I’ll be waiting over there.” Phoebe points to a park bench near a small pond. “Katya, it’s good to see you, I promise I’ll be back.”
Katya nods with a smile but instead of ushering me in, she insists we go for a walk.
I couldn’t blame her. The day is nice. Blue skies with a warm breeze. The air is clean, nothing like the LA smog. Taking a breath, I felt cleansed. I couldn’t describe it…something in the air just calmed me. The more I did it, the more I began to understand why Milana called Alaska home.
“Walking outside helps me clear my head sometimes,” Katya says, leading me towards a gazebo that sat near a large oak tree.
“Yeah, I guess I haven’t had much of that lately.”
“You look lost, son.”
She called me son. The word—resonates with me. As if I’ve waited my whole life to feel this way. Loved, if this is what it is—by a parent. No strings attached, unconditional love.
“I might forget this conversation, or the words I speak now. So before that happens, before you get scared by my confusion, I will tell you this—you have given my daughter life.” She touches my hand, grasping it tightly. “I know all about you. Milly talked about you so much once she came back home. I knew she loved you, but she was terrified. The baby terrified her, and that’s why you’re here, right?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, and with her hand still clutching mine, I crumble in front of her. “She’s gone… it’s all my fault. I needed her to fix me and all along I didn’t see that she needed me.”
“Hush, sweet boy. All can be fixed. I need you, you see.”
“Me?”
“Yes, if my daughter loves you and you feel the same way about her, then I need you. I won’t be around for much longer.” Her voice wavers, but quick to bring a brave smile to her face, she continues, “You’ve created a life with her. You’ve carried on the legacy. Don’t be afraid of me, and what I’ve become. You need to make Milly see that, I need you to make Milly smile again.”
“I don’t know if I can do that…I’m fuc…I’m a screwup,” I tell her honestly. “I can’t even get my life together.”
“You will. You have no choice.”
She gestures for me to take a seat; a small wooden bench that felt unstable when I sat down.
“When my husband left me, I was sad, depressed even. I couldn’t imagine raising two kids alone. They sensed it, you know. I would cry myself to sleep and Milly would come into my bed at night and just hold me. She had no clue why I cried or what I was terrified of, she just did it. Then one day, I decided I had to be strong, for them.”
Unknowingly, a small smile plays on my lips, remembering things that Milana would often tell me.
“She loves you, and now I understand why she was so homesick and upset to be away from you. I couldn’t understand at the time. My mother is…a piece of work.”
“Milly has always been overprotective. She had a moment, or should I say, bout of rebelling when her father returned and her grandpapa passed away. I was kind of relieved, to see her acting like a normal teenager but then of course I needed to put my parental cap on and pull her into line.”
I laugh, with ease. “Milana, a rebel? It seems so far-fetched.”
“It’s true.” Katya takes a rather large breath, her shoulders slumping, a burden weighing heavily on her shoulders. “The hardest part was telling her about the disease. Seeing your children’s faces…”
She shakes her head; fighting back tears that threatened to fall. I felt compelled to comfort her; this woman, mighty and tenacious—didn’t deserve to go through this.