If The Seas Catch Fire(77)

Katashi thumbed through it. “Yep. We’re good. You need anything else?”

“Not at the moment. But we might be in touch soon.”

“You know where to find me.”



*



“Good morning, Sergei.” Brittany looked up from pushing a small cart down the hall, and she smiled brightly at him. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “How is she doing?”

The smile didn’t quite hold up, though she sure tried to keep it alive. Glancing down the hall, Brittany said, “She’s a little less… here today.”

Sergei winced. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Brittany faced him again. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “I should, um…” Clearing his throat, he gestured at Mama’s room. “Do you have her pills?”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” She scanned the tray of meds on the cart, and picked up one of the little paper cups. “Here you go, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” He took the cup, and they exchanged smiles before continuing down the hall in opposite directions.

Outside the door, as he always did, he took a few seconds to steel himself. Then he put on a smile and went inside.

Mama was by the window as she often was. As he shut the door, she looked up, and she stared blankly at him. “Hello,” she said in English.

Well. Good thing Brittany had warned him. The days when there wasn’t the slightest flicker of recognition, not even to mistake him for his brother, were the worst.

Also in English, he quietly said, “Hi.” He gestured at the chair beside hers. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Mama looked at the chair. For a moment, she didn’t even seem to understand what it was for, or where it had come from. Then she looked up at him. “All right.”

He put the pills on the table between them and sat down in the familiar chair while she watched him like she’d never seen him before.

She glanced at the pills. “Are you a nurse?”

“No, I’m…” He swallowed. “No. I’m not.”

“Oh. I see.” Confusion pulled at her features. Though she didn’t say it, the “Why are you here?” was unmistakable.

“You seemed lonely.” And I miss you. “Like you could use some company.”

“Oh. Well yes.” She smiled a little. “It does get lonely here sometimes.”

I’m so sorry, Mama…

Silence descended. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t know who she was now, and she didn’t know who he was. They were strangers. He could make small talk with strangers, but it was different when that stranger was Mama.

Some days he wished she’d come back, just for a moment, so she could know that the men who’d destroyed their lives weren’t getting away with it. The game had taken years, but it was coming to an end. Piece by piece, domino by domino, everything was happening the way he’d hoped, and soon, it would be over. And though he didn’t want her to remember what had happened, he wished that on some level she understood that the evil in this town was inching closer to karmic justice.

I’m so close. The whole f*cking thing’s ready to come down.

“You shouldn’t talk that way,” she said, calmly making him jump out of his skin. “You seem like such a nice boy.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d spoken the thought out loud. Quietly, he laughed because at least then he didn’t cry. She really didn’t know who he was today. Didn’t have a clue. Watching some stranger break down in tears would confuse her and terrify her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I won’t talk like that.”

“Good. Good boys don’t.”

He didn’t know what to say.

Before he could think of something, she spoke again: “You remind me of my son.”

Sergei’s head snapped up. “I do?”

She nodded, gaze fixed on something outside. “My Sergei.”

Sergei swallowed. “Really?”

“He always swears.” Clicking her tongue, she shook her head. “With his language, the boy will be a dock worker someday.”

He stared at her in disbelief for a moment but then managed to laugh. His foul mouth may not have been his best feature, but it had started young. Young enough that apparently Mama still remembered.

She laughed softly, and gazed out the window with a smile. “He’s a good boy, though, my Seryozha. A good boy.”

Sergei pretended to cough just to give himself an excuse to turn away and swipe at the sudden sting in his eyes. When he faced her again, he whispered, “Tell me about him.”

She looked at him. “Who?”

No, no, Mama—don’t slip away yet.

He moistened his dry lips. “Sergei. Tell me about him.”

“Oh, Seryozha.” She sighed wistfully. “A boy who wants to be a man too soon.” She shifted her attention to the scenery outside. “He’s younger than his brothers. They were schoolboys already when he came along.”

The memory of his protective older brothers made his chest hurt. They’d kept a close eye on him and never let a neighborhood bully lay a hand on him, but they’d also taught him to be fearless and wild.