“Where did she do it?” Vaslav asked. “That’s why she got the knife, yeah?”
Nanessa frowned. “Alone in her room, actually.”
Vaslav quieted at that statement.
Vera noticed. “Is that new, or something?”
He didn’t answer right away, and the way the doctor’s gaze flicked from Vera to his said she wouldn’t tell the truth, either, unless perhaps he okayed it. Really, he just needed a second to think.
“She likes to make a scene,” Vaslav said. “It’s a ... thing.”
With everyone.
And everything.
But that story would take time they simply didn’t have, so he shrugged his shoulders under the weight of his jacket, and said, “She gets off on being vindictive and manipulative, but she’s also mentally unwell in her own right and sometimes, that gets everything a little twisted.”
“That’s not a great explanation of ... well, what does it matter,” Nanessa muttered with a wave of her hand. “The point is, I wanted you in my office first so I could explain why I don’t want you to meet with your mother today. You’re going to prove everything she already thinks is true to be what it is, and that can’t be helpful to anyone. Not when Monday, before this last knife incident, was the last time she even mentioned your name that anyone’s heard.”
“So she’s on to another con.”
Some emotional manipulation or otherwise, perhaps even to convince the medical staff around her that she was getting better. Or was ready to try. He wouldn’t put that above his mother because it wasn’t the first time she’d tried it—never mind succeeded. Either way, his empathy and trust for her were practically nil.
Nonetheless, Roseville was the best place for that particular brand of his mother’s fun. They knew her history, and games, intimately.
“I see your point,” Vaslav said. “On the visit side of things, I mean.”
“She almost succeeded this time. She’s already five years into her end stages of the cirrhosis, she can’t take another round of slitting her wrists repeatedly through a breakdown,” Nanessa added as she reached for the phone that was only an arm’s length away on the edge of a desk. “She’s not in her twenties, losing control over some man. At her age, with her health, having witnesses won’t save her.”
Beside him, Vaslav couldn’t help but notice how quiet Vera had turned at more of his mother’s sordid history and current state—even if it was without all the details. Did that make the woman she had apparently wondered about more human? More real?
Did she understand now that every interaction with his mother, even through a third party like her doctor, was like playing with broken glass? Dangerous and delicate. No one left without scars, and he’d been a witness and victim of Natalia’s trauma from the time he was born. Hell, oftentimes, she loved to say he was the blame.
Placing the phone, the extra length for cord making it possible, on her lap, the doctor put her hand on the receiver, but hesitated to pick it up. “Maybe she knows that she can’t keep doing this, Vaslav, but maybe she doesn’t. Either way, it’s your call. You can hold the proverbial knife. It might be the last slice, but I’ll let you have the say. You’ve played Russian roulette with my career and personal life for a whole week, and here’s where it brings us. Do we have the visit, or not?”
Clearing her throat as delicately as she managed, Vera crossed her arms over her chest with a smug smile that she tipped downward when she told him, “At least I know you kept yourself busy this past week, Vas.”
“Da—well ...”
He really shouldn’t have. The retirement said so.
Some habits were just damned hard to break.
9.
“So,” Claire drawled in a teasing manner on the other end of the phone, “how did you like your Christmas gift? I was a big fan of the color, not gonna lie.”
In the background of the call, she heard her father say loudly, “But what matters is the size and the fact she can do a triple rollover without even denting the roof, Claire, we’ve been over this. The color is not the nicest part.”
“That’s your wrong opinion,” Claire replied, “and you’re entitled to it, I guess.”
Vera’s brow puckered in indignation as low chuckles echoed from the end of the bed. She did her best to ignore Vaslav’s mostly naked form passing from one corner post of the massive bed to the other. Where she laid directly in the middle of the bed, propped up with several cushions, it wasn’t an easy task.
Vaslav made it hard to miss him, really. Instead, she put her focus on her mother, and the fact that apparently even her parents had knowledge of the custom Hummer that had magically showed up in her driveway on Christmas morning. Everything about the vehicle was made to spec from the leather interior with hand stitched details to the cream-toned paint with just a sheen of pearl for the glossy cherry on top. It wasn’t so pink that the color was obvious, but rather, in just the right light one could see the hint of blush in the paint job. It sat sixteen inches off the ground with sparkling white rims and matching steps so she didn’t have any trouble at all getting inside. More interesting was the roll bars all around the vehicle.
You know how Russia is with driving—Vaslav’s comment when she had pointed out that the cage-like structure of bars might be a little much proved that he clearly didn’t think so, and it also wasn’t up for debate.
To be fair, his matching Hummer, painted all black—which also showed up at the same time as hers, without the silver ribbon on top like her vehicle had, of course—featured the same roll bars. What was an extra thirty grand on top of the cost of each vehicle, after all? Or that’s how Vaslav put it.
“Okay, I won’t lie,” Vera started to say.
Claire laughed, stopping her from muttering any more. “Just admit it—you loved it.”
“I’m not really a driver.”
“You’re just like Demyan. You’ve gotten too used to people driving you everywhere you need to go. Cabs are not that fun. Dirty, really.”
“Well—”
“Who is paying that much money for a cab from Dubna to the city?” Vaslav interjected as he tied a smooth knot around the left bedpost with a navy-blue silk tie.
“Nobody even said anything about money,” Vera replied. “Or cabs to the city.”
“Yes, but do you know how much that would cost? You visit Hannah too much for that. Spend a few weeks getting comfortable with the Hummer; it’s good for these winter roads, too. Besides, I like to drive, and be driven. What else are we doing with our time, yeah?”
He even arched a brow to challenge Vera in to denying his statement. She didn’t. Other than hiding within the warmth of their home, the two didn’t make much time for anything else other than her two- or three-day trips to the city for a night or two with Hannah.
“Well, he makes good points,” Claire said, bringing Vera back to the conversation at hand which was more important than the fact Vaslav was now glancing her way with less patience than before. “What else did you get for Christmas?”
Lord, help me, Vera thought.