I Play for Keeps

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I was crying the hardest I could remember. Things in America were falling apart worse than I could’ve imagined. The language was miserably hard to speak, the girls were Sookas, and the guys were pigs. Worst of all, I missed my mom. Life in America had its perks, but I missed my home. Most people aren’t from Russia so I mean it’s kinda hard for them to understand why I’d want to go back to a big block of ice, but here are some reasons why.

What Russia is like, from my own experience :

- it's a country that has a wonderful architectural heritage (kremlins, cathedrals and churches, monasteries).
- it's a country where the people can sometimes be cold but once you break the ice, once you start talking, they will reveal a great warmth, and will share food, drinks and a great time with you as a visitor.
- it's a country of great contrast : the architectural gems I mention are sometimes set against a background of ugly concrete apartment blocks, built during the Soviet era. Also, some people, who probably have a hard life, may be very rude (administrative staff, hotel receptionists or post office clerks). However, very often someone very, very kind and very helpful will turn up and make you forget the harsh "niet" answers you just received. What may start as a negative experience turns out a great one thanks to a local person who comes to help.
- it's a country of immense size where traveling takes time and patience, though I was never bored thanks to nice contact with fellow travelers. Landscapes change slowly, and if you go towards Siberia, you will love the scenery around Lake Baikal.
- it's a country where even the police can either be a pain or a delight. Some officers will be asking for your papers, asking for "a present" (in cash...) or for some "French cognac", but some others will give you touristic advice and offer a drink.

 

But anyway, back to the crying and sad stuff in America.

 

Michael, my adoptive big brother, had a girlfriend. And she hated me.

 

 

But I mean I hated her too, so I mean the feeling was mutual.

 

 

But this girl was just beyond mean to me. She teased me and always called me words that I didn’t understand. She called me something like a betch, and I asked her what it meant, and she said it was a compliment. Me being the smart girl I am, didn’t believe that was truthful, but I didn’t know what the word meant. And I was too scared to mention it to my big brother. After all, if he found out his girlfriend was treating his little sister like that, I’m sure he’d be very upset.

 

 

So today I was minding my own business walking up the “lestneetsa”on my way to a class when she pushed me down the stairs.

 

 

“Go home you stupid orphan. Can’t you see no one wants you?”

 

Though I really didn’t understand most of it, I assumed it was an insult of some sort, and I went to the nurse’s office. She said I would be fine and to just go home and rest. So I walked home and went to my bedroom. Then, the tears started to fall.

 

 

And that leaves you to where I am now.

 

 

All of a sudden, Michael burst through the door. I could tell he was angry. You could feel the tension burning off him.

 

 

“What happened.”

 

 

“I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

 

“You know damn well, Raina!” He never used my Russian name unless he was pissed. Really, really pissed.

 

“Nothing of importance happened today.” I turned away from him and tried (unsuccessfully) to dry my tears.

 

“Well that’s not what I heard.”

 

“Well you heard wrong.”

 

“Why are you crying then.”

 

 

“I miss my country.”

 

 

“Well though that may be true, I know there is more than that. Seriously what happened.”

 

 

“Nothing! I tell you nothing!” I shouted, sounding a little hysterical.

 

 

“Damnit Rae just tell me!”

 

 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” I stormed away from him, crying even harder.

 

 

Michael was the one person I could trust. And I felt miserable knowing I couldn’t tell him about this. It would crush him. I don’t know what he’d do, and I do not wanna find out what, so I just leave.

 

Of course, he follows me.

 

 

“Rae,” He says one last time. I turn around, crying even harder. He gives me a look of sympathy and I run to his side, crying and getting snot all over him.

 

 

But he doesn’t mind.

 

 

 

 

And he never did.