The Boy from Reactor 4 - By Orest Stelmach Page 0,17
that position. You have to trust me on this.”
“Trust you? Listen to yourself. I’m your brother, and you won’t trust me by telling me what’s going on.”
Nadia remembered when Marko had secretly tracked her during her three-night survival test on the Appalachian Trail to make sure she didn’t get hurt. She was twelve years old at the time. Her father had insisted she become the youngest girl in the history of the Ukrainian scout organization PLAST to earn the survival merit badge. Marko had saved her from a pair of criminals who’d escaped from prison. Now his life was in jeopardy because of her.
“I’m so sorry this is happening,” she said. “I’m so sorry we’re having this conversation.”
Nadia resumed writing the check.
Marko said, “Does this have something to do with that antiques ring you busted up last year?”
Nadia didn’t answer.
“Does it? Were the people you put away just a front for someone else?”
Nadia signed the check.
“Oh no,” Marko said. “They were, weren’t they? Oh, shit. Uke or Russian?”
Nadia tore the check out of her book and slid it across the bar toward him. “Will you please leave the country? For your own protection.”
Marko glared at her, slipped off his stool unsteadily, and raised both pant legs. A gun was strapped to the left, a twelve-inch Bowie knife to the right. “Got all the protection I need right here.”
“No. No, you don’t,” Nadia said. “Not from these people.”
Marko’s face darkened, as though he understood her message.
“I’m begging you,” Nadia said, pushing the check closer to him. “Please go on a vacation. For me?”
Marko tore the check into eight pieces.
“Asshole,” Nadia said under her breath. “I knew this would be impossible.”
“Then why did you bother coming?”
She added a dollop of sarcasm to her voice. “Because I hate you and I want you to get hurt.”
Nadia gathered her purse and started to leave.
“Yo, Nancy Drew,” Marko said.
She turned. As a child, Nadia had escaped from her parents’ demands that she be the perfect student, Ukrainian, and daughter by reading mysteries. She always had a Nancy Drew in her hands, and it was Marko who supplied them. He delivered newspapers before school and bought her books with the proceeds.
“I’m leaving for Bangkok on Monday. Bunch of us are hiking to Burma. Two weeks. You need me to cancel and stay, just say the word.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that from the beginning?”
“That would have been the normal thing to do. Not our family way, though, is it?”
Nadia managed a smile. “Watch out for the snakes.”
“You too, Nancy Drew. You too.”
CHAPTER 16
NADIA ZIPPED DOWN the highway to Rocky Hill, a bedroom community between Hartford and New Haven. Her mother’s condo conveniently abutted Dinosaur State Park. Yellow paint peeled from the clapboard exterior. The glass on the bottom half of the storm door was missing, as though her father were still alive and had kicked it during one of his tirades. She remembered how his temper had frayed when she resisted taking the three-day survival test. She didn’t need to be the youngest Ukrainian Girl Scout ever to win the most coveted merit badge, she told him. He screamed at her that she would never make it in America. That she had to be stronger, tougher, and more fearless than the other children because she was an immigrant’s daughter.
Her mother’s role in her upbringing had been one of tacit participation. When her father berated her for a less-than-stellar teacher assessment at an American school or a rival’s victory in a Ukrainian spelling bee, her mother fixed Ukrainian comfort food and gave Nadia compliments. But Nadia’s rewards were always conditional on her scholastic and community achievements. Both mother and father acted the same in that regard. Any and all affection she received was always conditional.
When Nadia entered the kitchen, her mother was arranging photographs at the circular wooden table. She didn’t get up. She didn’t even glance Nadia’s way.
Nadia wrapped her arms around herself. “What happened to the bottom of your door?” she said in Ukrainian.
“A T. rex got lost and kicked it when he saw his reflection. What do you think happened? The juvenile delinquents next door were playing soccer. When I told their mother she should fix it, she told me to go F myself. Can you believe that?”
“That’s terrible, Mama.”
“They’re Puerto Rican. What do you expect? This country will let anyone in now. This country is going to hell. You want some tea?”
“Tea would be nice.”
Nadia’s mother glided to the stove, her elongated,