Kira Modest

Chapter 28

"I missed you, mom, and..." Pride forces my lips to close; it doesn't let me say 'dad'.
My brother interrupts the awkward pause.
"What about dad? Just don't lie and say you don't miss him."
"How are parents doing?" I try to deflect from the question.
"I don't believe you're still mad at him. You can't hold onto that for so long." Roman ignores my questions, just as I do his. 
I lie in bed, running my fingers over the blanket. All day, I've been trying to sleep off the club. The girls move around the apartment, but they do it quietly, kindly not disturbing my rest. 
"We talk sometimes on the phone," I justify myself, feeling guilty.
I've started to realize my mistakes in how I communicate with dad and stopped thinking that he's a hundred percent to blame. I began to realize this, quite simply, when I understood that he also has feelings, desires, and wishes, and his own life that he shouldn't dedicate entirely just to me. But what to do with my stubborn pride and obstinacy? It hinders me from living, from thinking rationally, and from making the right decisions.
"Yeah, I've heard a couple of times. He carefully tries to get something out of you. He doesn't know how to approach you, afraid to say something wrong, lest you freak out again and hang up."
"I try to talk to him calmly."
Again, silence on the phone. My brother won't give up talking to me about dad until he reconciles us both up completely.
"Our relationship has improved. I tell him about my friends and guys. A little..." I try to convince Roman of something I'm not even sure of myself. 
I told dad about Andrey for my own benefit, not because I wanted to get closer to him. Maybe I'm just selfish. 
"You're so cold with him, like an iceberg in the ocean. That's not improved. I know how well you can communicate sometimes between arguments." Roma sighs heavily on the phone. "He loves you more than anyone in the world, probably even more than me and mom, and yet you betray him, the one who values you more than his own life." 
"Because he's a murderer," I say stubbornly, almost muttering to myself.
"But he...," Roman sighs wearily on the phone. "He was just getting rid of those who got in the way of his business." He mutters under his breath just as quietly, afraid of his own words.
"Just!?" I burst out at him. "Is it only 'just' for you!?"

Before I can get angry, my wild hostility immediately subsides, and I feel that I no longer agree with my words about my father, no longer angry with him as I once was.
I feel like shit as always after Roma's words. I recall dad's tears, which he tried to hide from me during a video call. 
"Roma, I'm tired of talking to you."
"It's good that dad doesn't get tired of worrying about you," he interrupts sharply. "I feel like his hair has grayed even more during this time." 
He's about to bring me to tears. I'm so tangled up in all of this. With dad, with work, with university. It seems like everything in my body and mind is lost in a terrible maze and can't find a way out. Could I really not understand myself so much? Was dad right? Am I really so small and stupid? 
"I need to go. We'll talk next time." I end the conversation and automatically, without thinking, switch to messaging with Andrey. Just to check, maybe he at least read it? I don't even hope for a text from him anymore. When will this crap end... How did I get into these feelings? I never loved anyone and lived peacefully, but no, I had to get stuck like this! 
'I'll give you a maximum of five days off, no more.' The reply from Alla Vladimirovna comes to my request for a couple of weeks off. 
Okay, maybe that'll be enough time to make a decision. I don't want to consult with Arthur. I know what he'll say. The inner demon has quieted down and isn't talking to me like before. Maybe I should talk to a wall... Who should I ask for advice!?
While I slept all day, darkness settled outside. The air had turned quite chilly in recent weeks. The weather is hinting at the approach of winter. It was time to change the tires on the motorcycle and soon enough, to tuck it away. Riding in the frost is just too cold. 
I decide to take a walk, maybe even a jog. It helps me gather my thoughts.  I hope intrusive fantasies of bumping into Andrey on the road wouldn't distract me from making the right decision. 
I put on warm black leggings, a white hoodie, and white sneakers. On top, I wore a black leather short puffer jacket. I shouldn't freeze. There is no makeup, but surprisingly, I look good and refreshingly natural. The roads are nearly empty, with few people around, but there are more streetlights than necessary. They illuminate the streets so brightly that it feels like broad daylight. I strolled slowly, trying to relax, observing everything passing by. My nose began to chill, and I started sniffing softly. Hands are in gloves, because when running I won't be able to hide them in pockets and they may freeze. Thanks to riding a motorcycle, I got used to gloves and don't even feel their presence on my hands. 
The jumble of thoughts in my head quiets down a bit, and I begin to think sensibly. The unobtrusive slow jog dulls the ability to scrutinize everything around me in detail, and I focus on the conversation with myself in my head. 

Subconsciously, I was always drawn to my dad's affairs and business. I was curious to learn to do what he and my brother can, but I deliberately set aside those desires, for a well-known reason. And I forced myself each time to think that I want to become a judge, that I like it. Now I'm beginning to understand that I really 'forced' myself to want this. My eyes gradually begin to open to some things around and within me, but for some reason, I continue to stop them.