I remember I was seven. I don't remember the color of my bedspread or what toys I had in my room back then, but I do remember one night waking in the middle of the night to my mother gently shaking me, telling me to keep quiet and come with her. I asked mom where we were going because I could tell it was still very late and dark outside, but all she told me was that we were going for a drive.
We tip-toed out of the house and into a waiting car. There was a man at the wheel of the car and he sped off with me in my mother's lap without even a seatbelt on.
I noticed a familiar bag on the floor of the back seat. It was my bag and it was packed. The slightly larger bag beside it must've been my mothers.
When I peeked up at her she looked worried. Her eyes were fixed in front of her watching the road as we drove further and further from home. "Mama?" I kept peeking up at her from behind my messy bed head that kept strands of my pale hair over my face.
When she finally glanced down at me I remember her warm fingers brushing my hair back and away from my forehead. "Kuda my idem?" (Where are we going?) I asked for a second time. "V priklyucheniya" (on an adventure) she told me.
It blurs a bit after that, but from talking with my mother years later about that night and some of my own foggy memory as a little girl I know what came next was my mom handing the man who drove the car a thick envelope.
The man had thick eyebrows and an even thicker mustache. He had sweat circles under the pits of his shirt and he was as twitchy and cautious as my mother.
He handed her an envelope too.
The man's hand was heavy. I felt it when he gave the top of my head one heavy pat as my mother thanked him a hundred times. Everything was done in whispers. Everything was rushed that night. Mama took her suitcase and I took mine and we walked into a bus station and an hour later we were driving far far away.
Later in life my mother explained to me that the man I remembered was a friend of my mother's father, my grandfather. He knew shady people who did shady business like making falsified passports and ID cards.
We took a bus out of Russia because it was easier than taking a plane. Less of a paper trail. From Russia we went to Ukraine and from Ukraine we took a small charter plane to Moldova.
My maternal grandpa and grandma fled Russia too once they helped us flee, but we couldn't go to the same place because it was too risky to leave a trail so big.
Mom cried a lot about that. I do remember that, but she tried doing it at night when she thought I was sleeping.
It was my grandparents that told my mom they had friends in Moldova to host us for a few weeks while we set up travel to the U.S.
We spent a brief amount of time in Romania, where our falsified passports now said we were from, and while other plans were being set in motion. Those months passed in a daze of trains, buses, and planes. Strangers who let us take beds in their homes and smelly motels...and then America. My first home in America.
Most kids get told stories about the big bad wolf to teach them lessons. I was taught why I wasn't allowed to talk about papa or where we used to live. The big bad wolf.
I remember my brothers a little bit from back then. My eldest brother was 10 years older than me though, and the second was 5 years my elder, so they weren't hanging around me much.
I do however remember my little sister a lot. She was my half sister, we had different mother's, but we were close in age and played together.
I reunited with my half sister when I was forced back to Russia as a teenager, and that was a silver lining in an otherwise upsetting situation. She didn't remember as much about me as I did about her. Mila is two years younger than me, so she was only 5 when I left. We look a lot alike though, more than you think half sisters would.
Mila has my same oval face I guess because that part I get from my father. Where my eyes are very blue hers are a deeper color, and she doesn't have my very blonde hair, hers is a chocolatey brown like her mothers.
Her lips are full, but not plump like mine. And they are a deeper color and not very pink. Still we look like sisters and I wanted that growing up, but I grew up an only child.
Mila and I are in touch now. Even though I moved out of Russia, at least now I'm not in hiding, so we have each other's phone number and talk and text when we can. I had one photograph of my sister when we were little that my mom took with us when she secretly packed my bags the night before we left home.
Now I have new pictures with my sister. Unfortunately I don't have very many pictures with my mother.
I didn't understand why at the time, but it's because her face could have been recognized. She didn't age much over the course of my life, but as I grew up I changed and grew so it wasn't as dangerous to have my face out there in pictures.
Mom took plenty of pictures of me throughout my life and I'm thankful for the memories, but I wish I saw more of her in them. With just me being there it looks as though I experienced the world through a solitary life.
But my mother was my whole life actually. Two peas in a pod. Two partners in crime. That's what it almost felt like with all those secrets and moving around to hide from our past, to hide from Vitaly.
I don't know how my mother sacrificed so much. She left all her family behind, all her friends, all she ever knew. She left the comfort of money and a home to bring me to America. To bring us.
For a very long time she didn't tell me the full reason why we left. It was told in segments.
First it was, "Papa wasn't a nice man, so we went away." Then it was, "Papa is a powerful man and that's why we're careful." And so on until she told me the truth of it all.
Vitaly Petrov is a criminal.
He's a harsh and violent man. He's a cold hearted and possessive man. And he wanted me and mom to stay by his side until he was through with us.
My mother left Russia because she found out what Vitaly expected from his eldest daughter and she refused to let my life turn out that way. To be sold off.
Yeah, I remember the night we slipped away right under Vitaly's nose when I was seven. I often pictured how he might have reacted when he came home from one of his late nights only to discover his wife and daughter were gone.
When I was little I pictured him sad and crying. When I got older I knew it wasn't as sentimental as that. He probably flipped out, scoured the earth to find our trail ready to kill us for disobedience or worse.
I always wondered if that man was ever caught from helping us. Would they have tortured him? I bet they would.
But we were never found, so maybe that man didn't get caught and maybe we don't have blood on our hands for using others to help us disappear. Grandma, grandpa, aunties and cousins I'll never know.
When I say I don't like getting into my past with others this is what I mean. How could I tell the man I'm fucking that my father's a monster criminal, my brothers have followed in his footsteps, my mother was in hiding and stole me away from him when she had the chance. That my name is actually Aleksandra Petrov, not Lexi Vero. That I was actually born in Russia not here. That my mom is dead, but that my father is very much alive and coming here very soon.
The big bad wolf. Kids are told dark tales to teach them lessons, but all my monsters are real.
-
I had the apartment to myself. Chloe was out with friends. I took the opportunity to call my sister. I don't like speaking Russian with my roommate being around. She asks too many questions like how I speak the language so well when I'm American, and why that girl looks a lot like me but she lives in Russia.
Mila's dark hair is the biggest distincting factor between us. She had it parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears just like she has since she was a kid.
"Hello lovely" I greeted my sister when she answered the call. She returned the greeting with a Russian form of endearment that means something along the lines of 'little sun' and that's because she used to call me a yellow head when she was a baby due to my hair color.
We got to talking a little bit about what she's up to and what I'm up to, but then she turned a bit more serious when she said, "I asked Papa if I could come to America with them. He said no." I scoffed, but then I thought about it.
"It's probably better if you don't. They're coming for business and I don't want you mixed up in that."
"He won't tell me what the business is though. I'm 18 now. I'm not a kid" she told me like it was my fault he'd been more sheltering with her than he is with me.
"Trust me, Mila. It's a blessing" I told her. I doubt she agreed, but she doesn't know about the marriage proposition or at least I don't think she does.
"You don't want me seeing your cool American life or what? I wanna meet your friends, see your job, and New York City. I wanna go" she repeated.
"No, I definitely want you to come. Just don't come with them. We'll set something up. Ask your mother instead of dad. She's probably easier to convince."
Mila knew I wasn't wrong. My dad likes to control everything. He hasn't let Mila come thus far. I don't know if he doesn't trust me with her or doesn't want her getting ideas of moving here like I did, or what, but he's been a douche about it.
"Any boyfriends?" Mila lowered her voice like someone was in the room with her. I know she isn't at my fathers house. I can see the background and it's definitely the bedroom of her mothers house. I snorted a laugh at her question.
"Oh come on! You're gorgeous I know you're full of crap when you say there are no guys after you" she did a mannerism like she was fake spitting. I rolled my eyes.
"They're after me. I just don't pay attention" I corrected her. "I wish I had your problems. Cool Aleksandra, unaffected by men, traveling the world, and taking pictures" she taunted me.
I flipped her off. She laughed and her laugh is contagious, it made me smile.
Mila has no idea what she's talking about though. I'm not cool, unaffected Aleksandra. I'm careful Lexi. I'm 'I'm gonna be forced into a mafia marriage' Lexi. I'm 'I'm expected to be a virgin for my future husband' Lexi.
But I'll spare Mila that. I'll let her think what she thinks about me.
"You have no friends, huh? You don't want your baby sister to know you have no friends, that's why you don't want me coming to New York" she went on teasing me.
"I don't even like people" I went along with her. "Well people like you, so you better have friends. I want the full experience when I go visit you," my stubborn little sister persisted. "Yes Mila."