𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

14

and so, over the weekend, giovanni called both his mother and his father to let them know that he was coming home.

he was nervous, to say the least. it had been several months since he had last been in touch with his parents — four for his father and five for his mother. a lingering fear danced around in the back of his subconscious, as he felt like he had been a bad son: he thought he was being quite mean in his certain 'anonymity' toward them, but he couldn't help it. his weeks had been busy and his work kept him rather occupied — so occupied that he found himself getting lost in it. being a made man now, there was barely any time to sit down and write a letter, let alone paying the cost to mail it and then wait for a response back. still, he felt guilty: he knew his parents' phone numbers like the back of his hand. he knew he shouldn't have waited this long to call them.

he sat alone in a wicker chair in the conservatory of the lavigne mansion, morning sunlight filtering through the wide, frosted windows around him. with a deep breath, he picked up the telephone from beside him on the glass side table, his skittish fingers playing with the long, curly wire. first, he dialled his father's number.

after a few dull, montonous beeps, ivan's hoarse voice filled his ear. "privet?"

giovanni stopped for a few moments, his words hovering on his tongue — it was such a strange feeling to hear his father's voice again after so long. in that split second, it all came back to him: the way his father sharpened his t's, dragged his i's and rolled his o's. he almost couldn't believe he had even answered the phone in the first place.

"privet, papa," giovanni said. "it's me."

"giovanni?!" ivan said, his tone laced with disbelief. the thick accent of his was one thing he could never forget. "hello, son. why are you calling me? is something wrong?"

"no, nothing's wrong," giovanni answered, a smile on his face. "i'm just calling to say that i'm thinking of coming home for a week or so sometime soon."

an intense silence sounded from the other end of the phone. "oh, home?" ivan scowled. "i'm surprised you even know where home is."

giovanni bit his lip, holding the phone closer to his ear. "don't be like that, papa, please. i know it's been a while since we've spoken properly, but i want to come home."

ivan let out a cough that rattled his ribs. in the background, giovanni could hear him fiddling with a tissue. "well, i suppose you could... when are you thinking of coming?"

"monday, next week," giovanni said. "i'm bringing a friend."

"a friend?" ivan said, raising his brows. "a woman?"

giovanni smiled and shook his head. "no, papa. not quite. i'm bringing a friend. his name is jesse, i invited him to come with me."

"jesse..." ivan muttered. "isn't that a girl's name?"

"i thought that, too," giovanni said, cocking his head thoughtfully. "they do things very differently here in america..."

ivan rubbed his stubbled chin and sighed. "well... i suppose jesse can come. whatever makes you happy."

giovanni dipped his head, disappointed at his father's nonchalance. he could tell by his tone that he did not want an american in his house. "thank you, papa. i'll get my flight tickets as soon as possible."

"okay, giovanni."

"oh, papa, before you go," giovanni said, fidgeting in his seat. "is natasha still in berezenki?"

ivan frowned. "well, she's in detchino, staying at her mother and father's house."

"yes, that's what i mean," he said. "would you be able to tell her i'm coming?"