only a moment, I hesitate, but I decide then and there that I can’t let him get away. I dodge a school bus as it comes speeding down the street and narrowly avoid being hit by some soccer mom’s Prius.
When I get to the other side of the street, the vigilante has disappeared.
“Shit!” I shout, turning in circles looking for him. Figuring he must still be running, I decide to head north.
He’s not going to get away. Not this time.
23
Victoria
Matvei has been gone for a weirdly long time.
While Nikolas plays with some friends in the corner of the classroom, I excuse myself and head out into the halls to look for him. All around, I see groups of parents drinking punch and chatting, and I give them sheepish smiles as I hurry past them.
I step outside, wrapping my jacket around myself. The air is cold, but life around the school seems to go on as usual. Cars slowly drive past the building, a young couple walks their two dogs, and an elderly woman is squinting at her phone, waiting at the bus stop. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Confused, I walk around the perimeter of the school, determined to find where Matvei ran off to. He has to be somewhere. As moody as he can be, I don’t think he’d just up and leave.
But I do a full circle around the school, making it back to the front entrance with nothing to show for it. He’s nowhere to be found, and I feel myself growing irritated.
This is all so familiar. When I was younger, Dad would do the same thing. Tell me he’d be right back and disappear for hours on end.
God, Nikolas is going to be so upset if Matvei had to bail. Bracing myself for his disappointment, I straighten up and head back inside. I pass the gossiping groups of parents with my head held high, giving them a contrived smile as I move around them.
I take a seat beside Nikolas, and he turns to me. “Where is Uncle Matvei?”
“He had to run a very important errand,” I say, forcing another smile. Fooling those parents outside is one thing, but convincing Nikolas that I’m not lying through my teeth is a challenge. He stares at me skeptically, then looks down at his toys. It’s clear that he’s upset, because his shoulders sink and he folds his arms on the table, refusing to meet my gaze.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I say, rubbing his back softly.
When Parents’ Night is over, I decide to head to the nearby ice cream shop. I can see in the rearview mirror that Nikolas’ eyes light up when he sees where we’re going.
Inside, he orders a triple-scoop cup of vanilla, strawberry, and peanut butter ice cream. That combination doesn’t make sense to me, but I buy him whatever he wants. When it’s my turn to order, I just take a single-scoop cone of butter pecan and swipe the card Matvei gave me for purchases for Nikolas.
We take our seats and enjoy our treat, talking about how exciting Parents’ Night was. I didn’t think Nikolas would enjoy being at school after class that much, but from the way his eyes go big as he talks about it, it’s clear that he loved every last second of it.
“Victoria?” he says after a lull in the conversation.
“Hm?”
“What were your mommy and daddy like?”
I take a long moment to decide how I want to approach this. He’ll know if I’m lying, and I don’t want to have to spend time convincing him anymore than I already have. “Well, my mom was really beautiful and nice. She loved to play piano, and she tried to teach me. I wasn’t very good at it,” I laugh.
Nikolas smiles, strawberry ice cream on his chin. “What about your daddy?”
“My dad is …” I bite into my cone and chew, quickly coming up with something to say. “He’s a good guy.”
“Do you want to be a mommy?” he asks.
My stomach twists at the thought. Not just because of my life, my upbringing, the thought that’s always lingered in the back of my head whenever my dad messed up again: When I have a child, I’ll do things differently. Not just because I’m imagining how proud I’d be to see my child walk across the stage for graduation, or down the aisle at my wedding.
But also because of the image that sprang to my mind’s eye the second Niko asked the question: a fantasy of Matvei and