When Russia opened his eyes, he found that the people that at the start of the flight were sitting in his row were now gone. A flight attendant had woken him up, not that he was asleep, in fact he had simply zone out. It took a few instants for him to start making out the words that were being spoken to him. The last passengers of the plane were just now exiting and that nice lady was just making sure Russia would not stay on the plane for a return flight.
The boy quickly took his luggage and backpack and, almost running, stepped out of the plane, onto the boarding sleeve. His feet made loud noises when touching the ground, the tumults created rumbled through the tunnel and were ampliated by the echo that is inevitably characteristic of that passage.
Russia rushed to the baggage claim, absent-mindedly walking across the John F. Kennedy International Airport. It was late evening and the structure was only illuminated by internal lights. Still, there were many people around, living their own lives and having their own problems. Some where saying goodbye to loved ones, others were rejoicing to meet again friends and family.
Planes taking off could be noticed through the windows, although the sight was partially blocked by the reflections of the insides. Many thoughts were now flowing in the teen's head. Most, if not all, were fears. All he could see, although he was not watching, was the ground. Luckily people were more careful in trying not to bump into him.
Oh, he knew that it would be hard to let go. But now that he was here he could not turn back. He abruptly stopped, raised his gaze, in front of him was written ''Welcome to New York''. He sighed, and in lowering his eyes he met his reflection on a nearby window, just to lock them again on the ground.
He left the airport and took the first bus he saw that was going to Manhattan. In entering it, he swiftly took a window seat about in the middle of the vehicle. Several minutes later it set off for the city, just after it had filled in with passengers.
Russia had never seen such a place. Tall and well-lit buildings everywhere. So many colors and so many people too. All the colorful billboards gave the city a lively look. His eyes widened seeing each skyscraper and he passed the whole ride looking mesmerized out of the window.
He did not know how much time it had passed when the bus finally arrived at his destination. But when it did, Russia again started feeling all the worries. Indeed, just moments before he was too stunned by the city's exotic beauty to actually remember his situation.
Hurriedly he got off the machine and bolted out of the bus station, into the street. There, almost as if in a fever, he took out his phone, which he had completely forgotten about and still was turned off, and opened yet again his notes. There he had saved the location of his apartment, he had before, when waiting for his plane, learned the address by heart, but now it seemed to have slipped his mind. When he had made sure of where he had to go, he rapidly set off.
It did not take long for him to arrive at his flat. It was on the fifth floor of the building. From the outside the complexion looked old and quite dirty. The elevator too seemed worn out, but Russia could not go for the stairs since he was carrying all his things with him. Besides, he was used to antiquated lifts.
Upon standing in front of his door he felt a wave of almost calm go through his body. He found the key under the entrance carpet, exactly where he was told it would be. So he unlocked the door and opened it in a slow fashion.
He took a first look at the apartment. A little corridor followed the entrance, on both sides there was a door. Walking down the small hall he arrived in the living room, which also was the kitchen and dining room. All furniture was there. Russia put down his backpack on the floor, and left there also his luggage. He made for the two doors in the corridor, noticing he had left the entrance door opened he hastily shut it, for then opening the side ones. In the first he found the bathroom, it was mostly a classic white; in the second he found the bedroom, it was furnished with a twin size bed, a bed-side table and a wardrobe. No window in those rooms, in fact there only was one in the lounge.
Russia was rather hungry, but did not really feel like eating. Without even opening his baggage and changing his clothes, he lied down on the brownish couch and dozed off.
***
He was woken up the next day by the bright light coming from the window that occupied almost the entirety of a wall in the main room. At first Russia felt lost, it took a few minutes of staring at the void to remember where he was. And as soon as he did, he stood up and went checking the contents of the cupboards in the kitchen. There he managed to find some rice, flour, pasta and a box of biscuits. He still found this gesture of leaving him some food very kind and thoughtful. He quickly took a few biscuits and, as if he were in a race against time, went to get ready.
Some thirty minutes later he felt fresh and was prepared to go out.
Of course one would wonder, why would he go to such a city as New York?
Well, as to explain, Russia was in search of a brand new life. Not exactly voluntarily though...
He knew his father was in a dangerous position, his job was a risky one after all. Just one wrong step and he would have been done for. Oh, how many times he had promised to little Russia that all would go according to his plans, but maybe just for a second did Russia believe him. He knew his father was the worst scoundrel, a plain liar. And because of him, all his life was ruined; as guess what? Of course he screwed up!
On that fateful day, Russia has received the orders he knew would come, but hoped he would never hear. He took only essentials with him and during the night he ran off, leaving his beloved house, an old but well-kept flat in Saint Petersburg, the place that he grew up in, with all his memories, good and bad ones. But he could not waste any time, so he took a taxi to the airport, and left with the first plane to Istanbul, then from there to Paris, and finally he was off to New York City. He did not get a chance to say goodbye to anyone, not even to his house as he was too busy with packing up; he did not look back once.
His father had wanted him to go to this city if something ever happened to him. And there were plenty of reasons: the main one was that he knew some people here that would help his son. He was not a very likable person, but he had been an important one whatsoever. Russia was lesser known in general, he was heard of, but all of his father's acquaintances here had never actually met him in person. Russia was also kind of reserved, he used to go out when he was in Petersburg, but would only frequent the same places and never spoke a word to anyone when he went there.
So really, even if he felt he was leaving his whole live behind, the only person he actually 'abandoned' was his father. He knew he would be dead by the time he would arrive to the US. But was not so upset about it, it was not him that was bothering his heart: rather it was the fear of the new. He was so used to that cycle that had been his life until now, that he got more nervous than he would have expected now that he had finally approached this fresh start. In all his worries there was hope, though it was well hidden under the anxieties of meeting new people, having to eat weird foods, living in such a city that felt more or less opposite to his...
But perhaps he needed this push, if nothing had ever happened that forced him to leave his country he would have never had done so! And now he had a chance. No one could harm him now that he was in America. He did not have to hide, he did not have to lie, he did not have to pretend anymore. He felt freed of all those restrictions he had when he was in his homeland. Yes, he loved his country, but his father had made his existence a living hell. Ergo, now he was liberated.
And, ready to set off for this new opportunity, he lifted up his gaze. He quickly checked his appearance for a last time, and looking at the tall mirror positioned in the bathroom, he could see his well-combed, dark brown, short hair, paired with two brown eyes and some formal-ish clothes. He hoped he was looking good enough to make a decent first impression. So he put on a jacket, took the house-key and his phone, and then finally left the apartment.
...
Author's notes:
This is the first part of a little story I thought of. I am not a good writer at all, so I excuse myself for my terrible grammar and sentence structure. I am also not very original and I lack imagination, but I am doing my best.
All chapters in this story will be kind of short, and there won't be many parts either since I'm planning to make it a tiny tiny, and perhaps even boring, adventure.
But this is still just an introduction! Even though you can probably already figure out how this is all going to develop.
Well, until next time!
Word count: circa 1700 words