black widow movie | dear violette romanoff,

chapter two | nightmare in ohio

"I want mac and cheese," Yelena says.

I look at Mom. "We can choose? I want Dad's ice cream for dinner."

"Oh, you do? Okay. Well, I want... caviar and champagne," Mom jokes.

"Don't be dumb, Violette," Yelena says. "We can't eat ice cream for dinner."

"Grab the napkins. You take this. Thank you. Violette, you go sit in your spot, okay?"

I go and sit down at the table, fiddling with the placemat.

"Oh, will you grab the ranch dressing for Dad?" Mom squeezes Nat's shoulder, and she nods. "Thank you. Okay."

"Green beans are my favorite vegetable," Yelena tells us.

I shake my head. "I don't like vegetables."

"Oh, we know you don't," Mom smirks.

Yelena nods. "I don't either, but I was just saying..."

The front door slams shut.

"Dad's home!" Mom shouts, and I get up. "No, no. Violette! Sit back down!"

"Dad, Dad, Dad! Daddy!" I shout, jumping into his arms. Dad's big and tall and hides behind silver glasses twice the size of his face.

He throws me around enough to make me laugh. "Come sit down, baby," he says. There is a deep, low break in his usually headstrong Russian voice.

I run back to the table. Nat places the ranch in the middle of the table and sits down beside me as Dad paces back and forth by the window.

"Everything okay?" Mom asks, watching Dad hesitantly.

He sighs loudly. "How was everybody's day?"

"Mommy taught me about lamp bugs," Yelena says.

"Lamp bugs," Dad mumbles and laughs.

"And I fell and hurt my knee, but it doesn't hurt anymore. And we also saw fireflies in the backyard. That was my favorite part of the whole day." She keeps going.

Mom and Dad stand up and leave the table. They stand in the doorway and stare at each other for a long time.

"Yelena, we see fireflies every year," Nat says.

"I know, but I'm older now, so I know more about them."

"I don't like this dinner," I say firmly. "Nat, you eat my corn."

She takes it off my plate. "Don't complain about being hungry."

"I won't. Yelena, can you eat my potato?"

Yelena moans.

Mom and Dad sit back down, and Yelena shooshes me. Dad looks serious, Mom looks plain sad.

"Girls..." My dad straightens his posture. "Do you remember when I told you that one day we were going to have that big adventure? Today's the day."

Yelena's face lights up. "Yay!"

"What?" I look at Natasha, who is doing surprisingly well to hide the way she is beside herself. "How long?"

"It won't be that long," Dad assures me. "Not that long. All right, let's go."

Things are going too fast for me. I don't have enough time to put on my shoes before the car takes off. I didn't want an adventure.

The car drive seemed far too long and dark. I hated when we would drive in the dark. I bite into a fruit strap.

"Are we there yet?" I shout.

Nat's looking out the window at the kids on the street.

"Where are we going?" Yelena asks, letting me rest my legs on her thighs.

"Home," Mom says quickly.

"Are we there yet?" I moan again.

Natasha looks anxious, which makes me more nervous.

"Mommy, you're silly. We just left home," Yelena smiles.

"I don't wanna go anymore, Daddy," I protest.

"I don't either," I hear Nat say.

The ride continues, and I get more tired with each passing minute. Each road looks the same, each tree, each bush, each streetlight.

"I want my song," Yelena demands, and Dad presses in the disc.

"No! We always hear that song," I groan. "Daddy, are we there yet?"

American Pie by Don McLean begins to play, and I wine harder as Yelena sings along.

"Shut up, Yelena."

She sings harder.

"Shut up!"

"Violette, stop shouting, please," Mom says. I would usually continue, but she seems too stressed out for any further punishment from me.

"Come on, Yelena. Hurry up, baby."

I stare at my feet, sitting in the car, watching them move as my ankles control them going up and down. Up and down, up and down, up and down.

I can hear my mom. "Violette! Nat, honey, get her out of the car."

Nat opens the car door and reaches for my hand gently. "Come on. We have to go, Vio," she says, rushing. "Come on. Seriously."

"I don't wanna go."

"Let's go. Come on, Nat. Hurry up. We gotta go," Mom shouts again.

Nat wines. "Mom, she won't go!"

"Get her out, Natasha! We have to leave."

Nat taps her foot. "Okay. Come on." She unbuckles my seatbelt and helps me out of the car, grabbing my hand and running me over to a bigger car with wings.

"What is that, Nat?"

"We gotta go. Come on, you gotta run."

"That's a plane," Nat answers, panting. She lifts me up and into the back seat. "Okay. Okay. Sit with Yelena. I have to get those photos of us from the car, okay? Stay with Yelena."

Nat sprints across the dirt in bare feet towards our car, deserting Yelena and me. We watch from inside the plane as Dad handles a gun while Mom removes the blockages from the plane's path.

"Is this a holiday?" Yelena asks me.

"Nightmare," I answer.