8 comments/ 16533 views/ 23 favorites O' Brother, Where Art Thou? By: komrad1156 "Yana, I wanted to let you know this is my last night." "What? What do you mean 'last night'? What are you talking about?" "I've saved up enough money to get out of here and I'm leaving tomorrow morning." Yana pulled Larissa aside where they could talk more privately. They'd been best friends since childhood and both had grown up in Brighton Beach as second-generation Russian immigrants. It was Yana who'd introduced Larissa to the world of exotic dancing after they graduated from high school four months ago in June. Yana came from a very close-knit family that loved her and put her first. She'd started dancing at Девки for the thrill and the attention more so than for the money. Her parents would die if they knew where she really went most evenings working from 9 or 10pm until late into the morning hours. She told them she had a job working as a telemarketer for a firm that dealt mostly with Russian-speaking clientele. That explained the odd hours and her older brother Boris covered for her because Yana knew about his new-found love of cocaine. In exchange for his support, he got her silence. Yana told Larissa what she was doing after her first week at Dyevki which is a Russian slang word for 'girls.' Larissa thought it was disgusting until Yana showed her the tip money she'd made that first week. It was just short of a four-hundred dollars. Even so, Larissa was hesitant about dancing with her clothes off for the kind of men who frequented such places. Unlike Yana, she'd grown up in home where her father was a hopeless alcoholic who'd mentally abused her and beat her for as long as she could remember. She couldn't prove it, but she was convinced her father was somehow connected with, if not outright responsible for, the death of her mother some ten years ago. Because of her home life, she had tremendous trouble when it came to relationships with men. In fact, the only man she really trusted was her older brother, Sergei. He was now 20 and like Larissa, he'd been the victim of their father's wrath on many occasions. He was a good, decent boy with an unbreakable spirit, but even he couldn't take life at home with their dad. The day he turned 18, he joined the Army and had been gone the last two years. Larissa cried when he told her because he'd been her protector and confidant since he was strong enough to stand up to their father. More than once he'd saved her from another night of terror in their tiny apartment after their father had gotten hopelessly shit-faced on vodka, the Russian's drink of choice. Vodka was cheap and plentiful and their dad put away a fifth of the clear liquid every day. He hadn't been able to hold a job in five years and they lived off of whatever meager benefits he could get from the system. Larissa Golovko was used to going without. She was an exceptionally pretty girl who not only didn't have nice clothes, she didn't even have little things like shampoo or nail polish. To her dad, those were luxuries which really meant they took up money he could otherwise spend on necessities which meant vodka. So she went to school all her life with greasy, stringy hair, and whatever second-hand clothes she could find at near-by apartment-yard sales or the Good Will store. Once, Yana had given her a pretty blouse and skirt she no longer wanted, and the day she wore it her father had called her 'шлюха' or 'slut.' From then on, she was content to wear what she had until it was tattered and threadbare in spite of the regular ridicule she got at school. When she herself started dancing at the club, Yana let Larissa shower at her place so she could shampoo her long, dark hair and style it so that it framed her pretty face in a way that would maximize her tips. Larissa was also supposed to be working for the telemarketing firm and both of them left the apartment dressed modestly then changed at the club. That first week, Larissa brought home three hundred dollars more than Yana and the manager began touting her as a 'featured' dancer. As such, Larissa would often have the entire floor to herself for the better part of an hour in which she could make several hundred dollars. Other than expenses for the skimpy outfits she wore to work, every dollar was squirreled away in a jar under the floor under her bed in her tiny room. Each evening, she only need wait until her father passed out drunk before going to Yana's to change and leaving for the club. Now, after just four months, she had more than enough money to leave town, get an apartment of her own somewhere, and hopefully, find a job doing what she loved. The one and only joy of Larissa's life had been ballet and she had been dancing all her life. Her mother had been her biggest supporter and had arranged a scholarship from a wealthy Russian Larissa later learned was connected with the local mafia in Brighton Beach. The money had kept flowing in even after the death of her mother. However, Larissa understood that its continuation required monthly visits to the private office of Ivan Ivanovich Smerlov. Nothing sexual had taken place—yet—but they were visits she knew where somehow inappropriate and that more would one day be expected of her. Larissa's life was full of conflicts with her father as well as contradictions. She was a pretty girl who looked plain and homely. She was a quiet, sweet girl, but the most seductive, salacious dancer at Dyevki. She didn't trust men, but she loved her brother. She loved her brother but she shouldn't. She couldn't. It was forbidden. And yet she did. She thought back to the day she turned eighteen when Sergei had come home unexpectedly to surprise her. She hadn't started dancing at Deyvki yet and she was hoping just to be able to be left alone for one day. If she was really lucky, she might be able to sneak out and spend some time with Yana. Her father was already three sheets to the wind before dinner and he downed several more shots with the kielbasa and pirogi she'd made him. As usual, he reeked of liquor, sweat, and cigarette smoke and the thought of him touching her made her sick. She went to her room as soon as she was finished eating and closed the door. Several minutes later she heard him stumbling toward her room. Шлюха? Tы готова? Ты меня ждешь? Ведь, ты сегодня взрослая. Мы будем попраздновать! "Whore? Are you ready? Are you waiting for me? After all, you're a grown-up today. We're going to celebrate a little." Larissa cringed as her door opened. She didn't even look up. She was so numb, she could no longer even cry. She could smell him from across the room and as he approached her bed, she got that sick feeling in her stomach. He stood next to her and started mumbling about what a prick tease she was and how ugly she was and how no man would ever want her. That's when she thought she heard the front door open and shut. A part of her hoped it was a break in. Maybe a man with a gun. If she were lucky, they'd kill her father and her nightmare would be over. She'd remembered thinking it would also be okay if they killed her, too. As her father reached out and grabbed her arm, she saw him. Tall, handsome, and strong. The moment he saw what was happening he said in a very loud voice, "Не трогай мою сестру. Я тебя убью!" "Don't touch my sister or I'll kill you." The old man turned around too quickly and lost his balance. He fell into the nightstand knocking over the small lamp standing on it as it fell along with him. He drug himself to his feet and looked at his son and said in Russian, "Well, well. Look what the cat drug in. It's the soldier boy himself." Like Larissa, Sergei Golovko spoke only English outside of their local community, but their father's English was so awful they spoke only Russian at home. He told his dad, "You don't scare me anymore. I'm not afraid of you. The last time I was home I thought I taught you a lesson you'd never forget." He took a step closer and put his finger in his dad's face and said, "If you lay a hand on her I'll kill you with my bare hands." Their father turned around and looked at Larissa who was still cowering on the bed. He turned and faced his son who was a good four inches taller and in perfect physical condition. "Your sister is a fucking slut. That's why you love her so much. Yeah, I know all about you two," he slurred. "You two are going to make some kind of monster baby together. Don't kid yourself, Sergei. Larissa is nothing but a whore. A sick, fucking..." The old man didn't even see the right cross that broke his jaw and sent him flying back into the nightstand. The next morning, he had no idea he'd hit the corner of it with his head or how the huge gash got there. He only knew he was in more pain than he'd ever been. He lay there in her bedroom calling her name and begging for help. But she was gone. Sergei told her to get cleaned up and to change into the pretty dress and other things he'd bought her for her birthday and carried inside in the kinds of bags she'd only seen other women carry from the nicer stores. He'd even remembered the little things they didn't have at home as he handed her scented soap, shampoo, and perfume. Larissa hadn't worn perfume since her mother was alive when she would dab a tiny bit behind her ears on special occasions. Just having her beloved brother home for her birthday was more than enough. These gifts were more than she'd received on all of her previous birthdays combined and just looking at them made her cry tears of joy. When she was ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. "I'm beautiful," she told herself for the first time in her life. "I really am a pretty girl." And she was. Her hair was soft and shiny. The dress was blue and so pretty. She'd never worn pantyhose and although she'd worn high heels at Dyevki, she'd never worn them for any other reason in her life. She felt like she was in a beauty pageant and had just been declared the winner. "Seryozha?" she said using the diminutive form of his name. "It's all so beautiful. Thank you!" "Happy birthday, Larissa. You are beautiful. Did I get the size right on the dress and shoes?" "Yes. Size 2 for the dress is perfect. I love it! The shoes are wonderful, too!" She wasn't large for a ballet dancer, but she did have boobs and most of the girls who were the best dancers did not. Hers were only a B-cup but still, that was larger than normal for most girls who shared her passion for dance. She hugged her brother and that feeling of contradiction swept over her again. How could she feel like this about—him? He was family. He was her flesh and blood. And yet, he was the only boy—or man—about whom she'd ever felt this way. He made her feel safe, secure, and...loved. She hated herself for the way he made her feel, but she couldn't make herself stop feeling it. She loved Sergei. Even more wrong and even frightening was the realization she might be in love with him. As these conflicting thoughts swirled around inside her head, she pushed them aside and asked her handsome brother, "So what are we doing tonight?" "We're celebrating!" he told her. "It's your birthday, I have money and we're going out. We're going out and we're going to have nothing but fun all night long." He reached into a bag and said, "Oh, I almost forgot. The lady at the store said this would look nice with the dress." He handed her a beautiful cardigan sweater that matched the color of the dress. Larissa didn't care he hadn't even removed the price tag. She unwound it from the button around which it was wrapped and set the tag on the kitchen table. She handed the sweater back to Sergei and turned around so he could help her put it on. "I feel like a princess, Sergei!" He looked at his little sister and smiled. He put his hands on her shoulders and told her, "That's because you are a princess. You are my princess, Larissa, and you always have been." Larissa felt weak in the knees as he stared into her eyes. That...that feeling. It always came whenever he looked at her that way. It made the conflict that much worse, but she loved how she felt more than anything else and he had told her she was beautiful and that's exactly how she felt. "Shall we?" he said as he extended his arm. She put her hand inside his elbow and said, "Ну, давай!" "Okay, let's go!" With rare exceptions, Larissa's life consisted of a world that was mostly confined to a five-block radius of the apartment she grew up in in Brighton Beach. A time or two, she's wandered a little further from home but always with the fear her father might somehow find out. She was supposed to go to school and come straight home. The only exception was ballet class, her one reprieve from the harsh reality of the hell she called her life. This night was different. It was unlike any other. Sergei paid for a taxi, an unheard of luxury in her world. They left Brighton Beach and entered a new world when they arrived in Manhattan, a place so far away from Larissa's life it may as well have been on the moon. Here, things were clean. They were bright. They were—alive. Everywhere she looked she saw people. Laughing, smiling, holding hands. It was as if they had no idea what real life was like. The beatings, the verbal abuse, the threats, the intimidation. The endless bottles of vodka. The fear. The longing to be free. Here, people were free. And they seemed...happy. As the cab stopped in front of a posh nightclub, Sergei paid—and tipped—the driver and went around to open the door for his baby sister. He extended his hand and helped her stand on the beautiful, clean sidewalk. "Seryozha, this is...unbelievable! I've heard about places like this but never dreamed I'd ever see them." She hugged her brother and thanked him again. "Even if this night ended right now, it would be happiest day of my life." He wiped a tear of joy from the corner of his sister's eye and said, "It's not going to end now." He offered her his arm and said, "Shall we?" as he tilted his head toward the entrance. Larissa had never been to a piano bar. For that matter, she'd never to been to a bar or a club of any kind with the exception of Dyevki. Each of her senses was on overload as she tried to take everything in at once. People were talking and laughing, music was playing, lights were glittering, beautiful people were dancing, and the then there was the room itself. She'd never seen anything like it before. From the bar with its hundreds of clean, shiny glasses, the long mohagony bar itself, and the leather-topped stools in front of it to the tables with the linen tablecloths, to the chandeliers to...everything! "So what do you think?" he asked her. "Oh, Seryozha. It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen!" She couldn't stop looking or smiling. "I love to see you smile, Larissa. It makes you look even more beautiful," he told her. Suddenly, she was aware that her pretty new dress wasn't all that pretty. It was good enough for her to fit in comfortably, but she was amazed at the kinds of things other women were wearing. Everywhere she looked she saw pretty women in beautiful cocktail dresses, their ears, necks, and wrists adorned with expensive jewelery. All of them wore makeup—something she could never afford. Her newfound joy was suddenly replaced by the old familiar sense of not being good enough. She saw herself as nothing more than an average-looking girl with average-looking clothes in a world of above-average people made beautiful by the money and things they had. A sense of shame settled over her; a dark cloud with which she'd lived all of her life. "Are you hungry?" she heard him ask. It momentarily snapped her out of her self-imposed misery. "Yes, I'm starving," she told him. They took a seat at a table not too far from the bar. Almost immediately a nice-looking young man in a white shirt approached them and said, "Hi there! Can I get you anything?" "Two glasses of champagne for now," Sergei told him. "We'll take a look at the menu and let you know." The young man looked at Larissa but didn't ask for ID. When he looked a second time, Sergei handed him a twenty-dollar bill and he decided she looked close enough to go ahead and risk serving her. "Seryozha, you know I don't like alcohol," she told him sternly. "It's just champagne and tonight we're celebrating. One glass won't hurt. I promise. What would you like to eat? They have what's called a short-order menu but there are quite a few choices." "I want a hamburger!" she said excited. "I've only had a hamburger once in my entire life when mama was alive and I want one tonight. I want everything on it they can put on it. Is that okay?" Sergei smiled and said, "Of course. Anything you want." They placed their order when their drinks arrived and Sergei proposed a toast. "Life hasn't been easy for us, Larissa," he began. "In fact, living with our father is a kind of hell on earth. I escaped by joining the Army. This toast is to you finding your freedom and a better life so...to a better life!" "На здоровье!" they said as they took a first sip. Larissa had never so much as touched a drink in her life. Just moments after she swallowed a small amount she felt a pleasant tingle around her lips which made her smile. "This is really nice, Syerozha. Thank you, again." When her hamburger arrived, it was piled high with lettuce, tomato, pickles, mushrooms, and slathered in mayonnaise. Larissa struggled to find a place to take a first bite but managed to do so as water, oil, and grease dripped on her plate. As she chewed, the flavor hit her tastebuds like nothing she'd ever had. "Oh, my God! It's so delicious! I could eat one of these every night!" she exclaimed as she tried to talk with a mouth full of food. "Then you'd have to give up ballet," her brother teased. "You'd be so fat no one could pick you up!" Both of them smiled and laughed as they ate and drank. Larissa's foul mood was once again lifting. As she polished off the enormous burger/meal, she looked around and saw other people dancing. "Can we?" she said excitedly. "Is it okay to dance?" Sergei finished his champagne and said, "Of course we can. Finish your drink and we'll dance." Larissa drained her glass and found herself feeling tipsy for the first time in her life. As she stood she didn't lose her balance, but she did grab the edge of the table. "So that's what alcohol does to you. Now I see why our father stays drunk all the time," she half-heartedly joked. "It won't last long," he told her as he took her hand and let her to the dance floor. Larissa had never really listened to music growing up. Most of the music she'd heard was accompaniment for ballet. As she and Sergei floated around on the floor, Larissa looked around for her mother because she was sure this must be heaven. "I can't believe people do this kind of thing all the time. I can't even believe places like this exist," she said wistfully. She suddenly felt sad again as she realized this night would soon end and that she'd be back in her shitty little apartment with her shit-faced father living her shitty little life. She laid her head on her brother's shoulder and said, "I don't want this night to ever end." "I have another surprise for you," he told her. Her mood quickly swung again. Good news rarely came and pleasant surprises were few and far between for her. The thought of some other nice thing in the same night was hard to imagine. "What surprise?" she asked eagerly. "We can stay in a nice hotel tonight. I want you to see what it's like to stay someplace safe and warm and clean and quiet for once. I want you to have one night away from...him." "I can't even imagine such a place," she told him honestly. She was accustomed to hearing sirens, gunshots, arguments, and other noises every night of the week. She really couldn't picture a place of solitude like that. O' Brother, Where Art Thou? Around midnight, Sergei suggested they leave so that she could enjoy her room a little while before falling asleep. "I don't want you to spend your one night away from that shit hole asleep," he told her. "I want you to see how nice things can be away from that place and away from...him." Larissa still couldn't stop looking at the people and the busy streets on the next taxi ride to the hotel. Sergei had a friend who's father was in the Russian mafia and he'd scored him two tickets to a five-star hotel in Manhattan. Neither of them were prepared for the experience beginning with the way they were greeted at the door to what they saw in the room. "Oh, my goodness! Look at this place!" she said as she sat her purse on one of the two king-sized beds. She ran from the bed to the bathroom to the mini-bar to the balcony to the bed. There were beautiful, white fluffy towels being warmed on brushed-nickel pipes. The his-and-her bathrobes were thick and plush and warm. The countertops were marble. The sunken lighting was surreal. The view of the city to Central Park from the balcony was stunning. In the middle of the room was a bucket of ice. In the middle was a bottle of champagne and a note that said, "Лариссe с днем рождения!" or "To Larissa. Happy birthday!" Sergei understood this favor came with a payback, but it was a price he was willing to pay to give his sister a night she would never forget. "More champagne," she said as she finished reading the thoughtful card she believed came from her brother. "That was so thoughtful, Syerozha. Thank you for the nice card," she told him as she gave him a big hug. He didn't tell her someone else bought the card and paid for the champagne. He did however, tell her to watch out as he popped the cork. Foam ran from the bottle as she held out a glass which he filled half full for her followed by a second for himself. This time it was Larissa's turn to toast. "To the best night ever!" she said smiling from ear to ear. As she sipped champagne, she glided around the room like the ballerina she was and found even more interesting items as she flitted from place to place. The first was a remote control for the huge wall-mounted television. She clicked it on and watched the massive screen come to life. There was also a DVD-player, a radio, and another remote to control the lighting. She couldn't stop smiling as she turned the lights up as bright as they would go then all the way down until they went off. After the fourth time, Sergei gently took the remote from her and said, "Okay, enough of that. Let's see if there's maybe a movie on we can watch." Larissa was fascinated as he turned on the Guide then scrolled through the hundreds upon hundreds of available cable channels. He switched from TV to movies and as he was scrolling down Larissa suddenly said, "Stop. Stop! Dr. Zhivago! I want to see that!" Neither of them had ever watched the movie, but Larissa had heard her mother say it was the most romantic movie ever. It had been her favorite and Larissa had always wanted to see it. Three and a half hours later, Larissa had finished two more glasses of champagne and she was weeping. "I can't believe he died so close to her. It's just...so sad!" She was already leaning against her brother but when she watched Yuri clutch his chest and die just as he once again saw the love of his life for the first time in many years, she put her arms around her brother for comfort. Sergei had never had a girlfriend of his own. Like Larissa, he'd suffered so much abuse at the hands of his father that he had no self esteem and no idea how to treat a woman. He was a handsome young man and a number of girls had let it be known they were interested in him, but he never accepted their affection. He couldn't. He was too broken. The only girl he had ever trusted, the only girl he had ever loved was Larissa. He was now experiencing those same feelings of guilt and lust he'd felt so many times before. Not once had he ever acted on them although the temptations grew stronger with each passing year. Now, he was holding his beautiful sister in his arms and he cursed himself for being unable to stop the stirring he felt between his legs. He could smell her hair and touch her skin. She had always been beautiful to him but tonight she was his princess. He stroked her hair and told her it was okay. He was there and everything would be all right. "You've always made everything all right, Seryozha," she told him. "No matter how terrible things might be, you always made them better." "That's what you do for someone you love," he told her. "You know I love you, right?" Larissa nodded and wiped away her tears. "And I love you, too," she told him. "Larissa?" he said. He waited for her to look up at him. "I wanted tonight to be the most memorable night of your life. Have you enjoyed it?" She was staring into his eyes; the same eyes she'd looked into a thousand times before. And yet this time, there was something...different...about them. There was a look that made her feel...desire. It was so confusing. She'd never even been on a date. She'd never kissed a boy. And yet here she was feeling those feelings at that very moment. She had no way of knowing her brother had the same kinds of feelings. Feelings of desire mixed with the deepest of shame. Yet neither of them had ever felt like this before. He was so handsome in his dark suit and she was so beautiful in her pretty new dress. "Yes. It's been so wonderful. I couldn't have even dreamed something like this could ever happen to me." As she spoke, she never stopped staring into her brother's eyes. More than anything she found herself wishing he could know how she felt. She wanted him to feel the same way. She wanted him to...kiss her. Shame welled up inside her but desire overpowered it as her need for him took control. He knew her like no one else and somehow he could sense it. She needed him just as he needed her. Like her, shame tried to overwhelm him, but lust won out as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips on hers. She wanted to pull back. She needed to tell him 'no.' But it was as though another mind controlled her and she was unable to do anything but kiss him back. Neither of them spoke as their tongues touched, exploring the other's. Not a word was said as she helped him out of his jacket nor when he unzipped her dress. The only sound in the room was their breathing which grew louder as he took her hand and led her to the bed with the most luxurious sheets and the softest pillows money could buy. As they kissed, he removed her bra and let it fall to the floor as she hungrily unbuckled his pants, pulled down the zipper, and let them fall to the floor. He pushed her onto the bed and lay on top of her, their mouths still exploring one another's bodies. For the first time in her life, a man cupped her soft breast and took her nipple into his mouth. Larissa gasped and moaned with pleasure at the new sensations flowing through her body. Instinctively, she reached down and found the one thing she had wondered about for so long. What did a boy...a man...look like? How big was it and how did it feel? She still hadn't actually seen it, but as she held it in her small hand, it felt enormous. Sergei raised up and let her help him remove the boxer shorts he was still wearing and as he did, Larissa saw...it...for the first time in her life. She got only a fleeting glance of it and its shape fascinated her. She pushed her brother off of her and onto his back. She kissed him from his mouth to his chin and then down his chest to his stomach. He felt his hand on the back of her head gently guiding her toward it...as she saw it...really saw it...for the first time. It was so beautiful to her. She studied its shape from the tip which was shaped something like a heart of sorts to the thick veins all around it to how it disappeared into a thick, dark tuft of hair. She traced its length down to where she saw a kind of sack she'd learned in school was called a scrotum. She placed her hand underneath it and gently lifted it up. As she did, she was aware of two objects inside which were the size of large chestnuts which floated with the movement of her hand. She ran her hand back up the length of the shaft admiring its beauty the entire way. Without prompting, Larissa pulled the tip of it to her warm mouth and softly kissed it. Her brother moaned but didn't speak. Nature told her to open her mouth and accept its length a little at a time. As she wrapped her red lips around it, Sergei groaned louder, his hand gently pushing her head down until she could go no further. She then gently raised back up, all the while holding him tight with her lips as her tongue licked its entire length. Larissa repeated this a second time and then a third. Somehow, she just knew to continue doing this same thing over and over, a little bit faster each time. As she held his cock with her left hand she again reached down and gently cupped the objects inside of the pouch of skin which had now grown taut. After just a minute or so more of this, her brother gently pulled her head away and grabbed her shoulder indicating he wanted her to lay next to him again. When she did, he rolled over and laid on his side next to her then kissed her like before. This time, his hand massaged her breast for a short while before making its way to the center of her own pleasures. When his finger found the special place only she had ever touched, she reacted with a gasp of her own and a deep moan of pleasure. He body ached for him as she felt his finger slip inside of her. She was aware that she was very wet 'down there' and that his single finger and then two followed by three fingers entered her effortlessly. She'd heard from Yana that having sex was painful but only for a moment. After that, she'd been told, it felt...wonderful. Larissa wasn't worried about a small instant of pain if it would bring her long moments of pleasure. She was aware she was now breathing very hard and that she was pushing hard against his fingers and hand. "Больше," she cried softly. "More." He raised up and looked into her eyes. They were hungry. They were desperate. Desperate for him just as he was desperate for her. "Ты готова?" he asked her. "Are you ready?" She nodded and pulled him to herself. As with her, nature told him when and where to push. As he did, he also just knew to do so ever-so slowly. He watched her eyes for any signs of hurt or pain. He briefly met some kind of resistance and saw her tense up then nod again. He pushed gently but firmly, saw her wince and heard her yelp softly. He stopped, waited, and when she opened her eyes and nodded again, he continued to push. It seemed less painful for her but still not pleasant as he pulled out and back in several times. Then, almost magically, her countenance changed. The wincing stopped and he felt her squeeze him and push back against him. She was okay and she was enjoying it just like him. Sergei re-entered her and took her all the way to the very end this time. When he did, she whimpered but not from pain. She wanted more. He began thrusting back and forth, in and out as she arched her back and cried out softly. Her hands were pulling him close, her nails digging into his back. "Да, да, ДА!!" she cried. Her voice made him lose control and he felt himself emptying insider her. When he was drained, he lay beside her as she draped her arm around him. Not a single word was said as they fell asleep in one another's arms. The next morning, neither of them spoke about what had happened. Larissa was up first and was sitting in the thick, luxurious robe after having showered in a bathroom more ornate than any Russian Orthodox Church she had ever seen. She was drinking a cup of hot tea and asked Serge if he'd like some. "That would be nice," he told her as he headed for the shower. As they drove back to Brighton Beach, they sat in silence the entire way. As the driver pulled up next to their rundown apartment building, Sergei told her he wouldn't be staying. "I have to be back to the post tonight and I have a long flight so I have to say goodbye." "I understand," she said. He held her hand and said, "Happy birthday." He kissed her softly on the cheek. "Thank you," she replied. "I will never forget the most wonderful night of my life, Seryozha." "Nor will I," he assured her as she opened the door and walked back into the hell she called her life. As she and Yana continued their conversation she remembered there had been one exception to the rule of saving her money. Two months after Sergei left she'd had to see a doctor from Planned Parenthood to eliminate—the mistake. Larissa knew many people thought a fetus at that stage was nothing but a clump of cells, but to her, it was a child. An unborn child which unlike any clump of cells would develop into a baby the same way she once had. Larissa loved her baby and because she understood the risks, she loved it enough not to bring it into her world. She'd stopped taking his calls after that. She could never tell him she'd been with child—his child—let alone that she'd decided to take its life in order to save it. It was just one more sick, twisted contradiction in her life. Another was that she was now the best dancer at her ballet studio while also being the most popular topless dancer at the most exclusive men's club in Brighton Beach. Exclusive men's club. Larissa almost laughed when she thought of the irony in that. No, it wasn't exclusive. It was a means to an end and nothing more. The means had been accumulated and tomorrow this would end. All of it. The dank apartment, her horribly disgusting father, showing her body to lurid men for money. Then tomorrow, her dream would begin. A new life. A position with a real ballet company. And maybe one day a family of her own with a husband she loved and trusted. It didn't seem like too much to ask. Just a small corner of the world where she and her children could be safe from the horrors of the world in which she'd grown up. Tomorrow, all of that would be buried once and for all. "Do you know where you're going?" Yana asked her. "Seattle," she told her. "Seattle? Washington? Why there? What's in Seattle, Larissa?" "Nothing special. It's just the farthest place I can get from here without going to Alaska. I don't mind the cold but I don't want to deal with snow for months at a time. Seattle gets rain but not much snow." "Where will you live? What will you do?" Yana asked her. "I'll find a nice apartment and I'll look for a job while I try to get into a company. I have enough money, Yanochka. I'll be okay." "Will I ever see you again?" Yana asked with tears in her eyes. "You can come visit me anytime you want," Larissa assured her. "I'll miss you so much," her best friend told her. "I know. But you also know I have to leave. I can't stay here another day." The two best friends hugged and cried and said their goodbyes. Larissa packed the one suitcase that had been her mother's and filled a backpack, as well. That and her purse held everything she owned. As she got ready to leave, she scribbled a short note to her father telling him not worry and to remember he now had one less mouth to feed. She didn't sign it let alone use the word 'love.' She just left it next to the bottle of vodka he'd opened but didn't finish the night before. She boarded the first bus that would take her to Philadelphia. From there she'd make several other changes until she arrived in Seattle nearly four days later. She planned to sleep as little as possible and try and take in as much of the country as she could on her journey to her new life. As the big silver bus pulled away, Larissa felt years of fear, pain, and anxiety melt away. The shame was another matter but it could wait. A week later, she was in her very own first apartment. She'd bought a futon, some sheets, and a pillow and for the first time in her life, slept in her own place. It came with a refrigerator, a dishwasher, a microwave oven, and a washer-dryer. It was modest but clean and compared to Brighton Beach, quiet as could be. To her, it may as well have been the Taj Mahal. She took a job waiting tables at a local diner while arranging a tryout with the local ballet company. She rehearsed each day before going to work to keep herself ready and limber. To her delight, she was one of only two girls asked to come back after the initial call. When she was offered a place in the company and a real salary, she had never been happier in her life. For the next two months her life consisted of dancing all day and seeing the kinds of things she'd never seen in the evenings. She'd even made a new friend whose name was Marissa which made her laugh when she thought of how it rhymed with her own first name. Larissa, Marissa. It was very funny to her. Marissa had been with the company for two years and loved the ballet as much as she did. They spent most of their free time together going to museums, restaurants, and exhibits. The saw the Space Needle, Pike's Place Market, rode ferry boats on Puget Sound, and together they shopped for the things Larissa needed to make her little place a home. No, she had indeed never been happier. Until the day that he showed up. He was waiting for her when she and Marissa left the ballet studio. She was so stunned to see him that she stopped dead in her tracks and just stared. "Давным давно сестра," he said. "Long time no see, sis." "Who is this?" Marissa said excitedly. "He's hot!" Still shocked, Larissa said barely audibly, "My brother, Sergei." "Hi, Sergei! I'm Marissa, your sister's best friend. I had no idea she had such a handsome brother." Sergei acknowledged her then said to his sister, "Can we talk? Can we go somewhere? Just the two of us?" "Not now," Larissa said as she came to herself and began walking. Sergei fell in step alongside her as Marissa tagged along next to him. "I had no idea you were living here," he told her. "I'm stationed at Fort Lewis just an hour or so south of here. I finally got Yana to tell me where you were and I couldn't believe you'd leave without telling me." She kept walking without speaking to him. "And why wouldn't you take my phone calls?" he asked. "I called every day for weeks. I left messages at the dance studio." Larissa's arms were folded as she kept up the brisk pace. Sergei stepped in front of her, stopped and said, "I just want to talk. That's all." She looked at him and when she did she regretted it. That sick feeling she always got returned. Even worse was the other feeling she'd fought so hard to forget. The one that always won out. The one that made her feel so...ashamed. "Fine. Meet me tonight back at the ballet company at 8 o'clock. We can have dinner. This time it's on me. But that's it, Sergei. We have dinner. You talk. You leave. Understand?" "Yes, of course. Thank you. I'll see you at eight," he told her smiling as he turned to leave. "Goodbye, Sergei!" Marissa called out hoping to attract his attention even as he was headed away. He waved weakly over his shoulder and pulled up the collar of his jacket against the cold wind as he walked away. Larissa chose a modest restaurant not because she couldn't afford something nicer but because she didn't want to send the wrong signal. She wouldn't insult him and take him to a fast food place, but this was not a celebration and it most definitely wasn't a romantic dinner. It was an opportunity for him to talk and that was it. Larissa would be polite, but she would be firm. Under no circumstances would she ever allow her brother to...be with her...like that. That, she had determined, would never, ever happen again. Once their food had arrived, Larissa said, "You wanted to talk, so talk." O' Brother, Where Art Thou? "How have you been? Is everything all right? You didn't return any of my phone calls and..." "I'm fine." Her curt reply stung. "Is there some reason you wouldn't even talk to me? Are you mad at me or something?" There it was. That boyish 'you hurt me so bad' look that she couldn't deal with. "You know why, Sergei. Don't embarrass us both by asking me to spell it out for you." She looked around, leaned toward and said quietly, "That can't ever happen again. This can't happen." She spread her hands out to indicate she meant him and her. Sergei pushed the food around on his plate then asked, "Is there someone else? Have you met someone?" Larissa wanted to tell him there was but she was a terrible liar. Truth be told she was still unable to date a man—any man. The trust issues were hard enough but the thought of being intimate with him was too much. She didn't know how to be someone's friend yet let alone a girlfriend. Marissa was helping her learn but were it not for Marissa's own deep insecurities there was little chance even she would have befriended Larissa. They were more co-dependent than two people sharing a part of their lives with each other. But perhaps Larissa could learn how to act and more importantly how to actually be a friend to someone. She desperately wanted her dream of a family to come true, but she knew she had a long way to go before that could become a reality. "No. There's no one else, Sergei. I'm too fucked up to have a boyfriend. For God's sake, look at us. We're adults living on our own and yet here we are together—again. And don't even try and tell me this is just about talking or dinner. You and I both know exactly what this is about and I'm here to tell you that part of my life is over. Do you understand me?" During her final sentence, their server walked up and started to ask whether they might need something else. The harsh tone in Larissa' voice, the hissing sound she made, caused the server to say, "I'm sorry. I'll come back in a few minutes." "Larissa, I just wanted to let you know I'm being sent to Afghanistan," he told her. The angry, contorted lines in her forehead softened then smoothed. She blinked several times as she looked down to avoid his stare. "When do you leave?" she asked. "In two weeks," he said. "We've been training and preparing for the last two months. We'll be gone for a year and I wanted to see you. I wanted to let you know in case...you know." Larissa felt sick to her stomach but not from the thought of being with her brother again. It was the thought of him coming home in a flag-draped casket. The thought of never seeing him again. The crystal-clear clarity she had when she agreed to meet him for dinner was gone. She was once again a jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She couldn't think. She couldn't speak. She just sat there looking at her uneaten food. "I also wanted you to know that I made you my official next of kin. You know, in case..." "Seryozha, заткнись!" "Shut up!!" "Just stop it. I know what you're doing and..." "Larissa, I'm not doing anything. I'm just talking to you. Look, there's no way Dad is going to get a dime from me. You're the beneficiary of my serviceman's group life insurance now. It's just over $400,000 and I want..." "Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!!" she nearly screamed. "I don't want your money. I don't want anything from you. I just want you to leave me alone!" Her faced was once again screwed up in anger and despair. There were tears in her eyes and her voice was choked with emotion. "I want to be cremated, Larissa," he continued determined to finish what he'd started. "I don't deserve to buried in Arlington Cemetery with those real heroes. I'm broken. I'm defective. I'm what people call a freak of nature. I just want to be incinerated and forgotten." He paused and said, "By everyone—but you." The words he spoke were more than just words because she knew exactly how he felt. Somewhere deep down, she knew she wasn't to blame for the way she was. This was the fault of her poor excuse of a father. It was his failure to love and nurture her and provide a decent male role model for her brother. He instilled in them the fear and anxiety that ruled their lives. He made them feel the shame they bore and lived with every day. Yes, they were still responsible for what they'd done together but only in the strictest sense. Even there, their miserable mistake of a father was to blame for their fucked-up needs and desires. She wanted to tell him about the pregnancy. The baby. Their baby. But she knew it would only cause more confusion and more pain. "How could I ever forget my own brother?" she said quietly without looking up. "How could I not remember all the times you kept him from me? How could I not think of the times we held each other when we only had each other?" She looked up at him and through her tears asked, "How could you possibly think I wouldn't still love you?" As she spoke those words, she lost control of her emotions and began to sob loudly and uncontrollably. People looked and then stared at this pretty young girl who was in such pain. The women shot angry looks at Sergei assuming this was his fault. He took out his wallet, laid $50 in cash on the table and stood up. "Come on. I'll take you home," he told her. Larissa just sat there and sobbed. Sergei knelt down next to her and grabbed a linen napkin and dabbed her eyes. "Larissa? Let's go home, okay?" She stood up and grabbed her purse while Sergei helped her with her coat. People were still staring but his apparent kindness seemed to mollify them for the most part. He hailed a taxi but Larissa said, "No. I want to walk." "But it's over three miles to your apartment and it's cold outside," he said. "I don't care. I want to walk," she said as she pulled her coat tight and buttoned it up. Sergei lifted up the hood in back and covered her head. "Okay, we'll walk." It took them almost an hour to get home and neither of them had said a word. At her doorstep he said, "So...I guess I'll be seeing you then." She'd stopped crying but she was no more able to think clearly than she had been at the restaurant. "No, come inside. I'll make you some hot tea. I don't have much to eat, but you didn't touch your meal. You need to eat something. Then you can go." "I'm not hungry," he told her. "Okay, then just the tea," she said as she unlocked the door and let them in. "You can put your coat here with mine," she said as she dropped hers and went to put on some water to boil. "That's okay," he said. "I won't be staying." A few minutes later she set a steaming mug in front of him and said, "Here you go." He looked at the tag and said, "This is Earl Grey. Look at you learning about the finer things in life." Most people would have laughed. Larissa's apartment was still very spartan in spite of her attempts to make it look like a home. She depended on Marissa to keep her from buying the cheap, gaudy junk that looked so shiny and beautiful to her. She didn't know Earl Grey from any other tea. She just liked the box it came in. "Drink," she said. "It'll warm you up." After her third sip Larissa said, "Tell me what you do. In the Army. Is it dangerous?" "I'm an infantryman," he told her. Larissa knew almost nothing about the military but she did know the infantry fought on the front lines. She'd also heard that the Taliban planted bombs on the roads and that every time soldiers rode in a vehicle they could be killed, and that was more than she wanted to know. "Are you afraid?" she asked. "No, not really." He took another sip and told her how good it tasted. "I'm not afraid to die, Larissa, and you know why. The only think I'm afraid of is...losing you." He watched her reaction when he told her how he felt and she looked right at him and said, "Черт возьми!" Go to hell! "You can't lose me because you don't HAVE me! Don't you understand that? I'm not yours! I can't be...yours!" Her hard exterior crumbled as she finished speaking. Her hands were shaking and she was crying again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like..." "You need to go now," she said softly as tears fell to her cheeks which were red from the anger and the hurt. He finished his tea and said, "Thank you for the tea." He stood up and walked toward the door. "So I guess this is goodbye." "I guess so," she said softly. He put his hand on the doorknob then stopped and walked back to the table where she was still sitting. "I'd like to hug you one last time," he told her. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said without looking up. "I don't want this to be our last memory, Larissa," he said as he reached out and touched her hand which was holding her cup. "Don't," she said. "Please just go." "I can't," he said. "I can't leave like this." He uncurled her fingers and held them with his. "Sergei, no..." "Just a hug. That's all. Please. На всякий случай," he said quietly. "Just in case." She knew she shouldn't give in, but the thought of never seeing her brother again was very powerful. He raised her hand slightly and then she pushed her chair back and let him help her stand up. She knew better than to look at him as she put her arms around his broad shoulders. "Take care of yourself, okay?" she told him. "And be safe." "I will," he promised her. "I know you won't write to me, but I also know you'll think of me and that you know I'll be thinking of you." He held her close and said, "I will always be thinking of you, Larissa because..." "Please don't say it. Please," she begged him. "I'm not leaving until you know," he replied. Tears fell again as she said, "I already know. I've always known." "That I love you?" he said as he stroked her long, dark hair. "Yes," she managed to say. "That I'm still in love with you?" He felt her shake her head as though she meant to tell him she didn't know that or didn't believe it. Instead she choked out, "I know." He hugged her close then raised his hand and put his index finger under her chin and lifted gently. "Please don't, Seryozha," she pleaded. She tried to will herself not to let him. She couldn't look into his eyes again. She just couldn't. And yet as he continued to raise her chin she found herself unable not to meet his gaze. As she did, she blinked several times. Her eyes darted back and forth between his and she knew that he knew. "You're in love with me, too, aren't you?" he said as he stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. "Yes," she said without looking away. "I hate myself for it, but I have always been in love with you." "Then perhaps you'll help me take off my coat?" With a will of their own her hands reached up and began unbuttoning the big, heavy peacoat knowing they wouldn't stop there. Two minutes later they were both completely undressed. Sergei kissed her gently then picked her up and carried her to the futon which still served as her bed. Larissa wanted him inside her so badly it hurt. She couldn't explain how but the thought of not having him made her ill. She took him in her mouth for several minutes remembering how wonderful it felt to love him like that. She'd forgotten how he filled her mouth as well as her hand as she cupped him again. She was happy when she didn't have to ask him to pleasure her orally once he'd been satisfied. She wanted to remember his handsome face between her legs forever. She wanted to connect the way her body felt when he touched her with this image knowing it would be there every time she touched herself that way from then on. She cried out as his tongue did exactly what she'd wanted it to do. Somehow, he just knew when to stop using it and replace it with what she wanted the most. It was the only thing she wanted or needed in the world. His beautiful член (chlyen which literally means 'member') inside of her. His хуй (hooey or cock) fucking her the way he had before. She pushed hard against him and pulled him close accepting his tongue when he kissed her then letting it go when he began to thrust. The sound of his grunting sent her body into pleasant spasms of passion. The feel of his hot semen splashing inside of her body was ecstasy. When he was through, he lay quietly beside her holding his hand. "I want this to be our last memory," he said as he stared up at the ceiling above them. Larissa squeezed his hand in agreement. He showered, dressed, and hugged her goodbye. As they held one another he whispered, "Я тебя люблю Ларисса." "I love you, Larissa." She choked back tears and said, "И Я тебя." "And I you." As the months passed she tried to forget about him. A beautiful card came just before Christmas Day. He only told her that he was thinking of her—always—and that he was fine. Two months later another card arrived on her birthday along with a dozen red roses. Again he told her that her thoughts filled every waking moment of every day. Two months later, on a chilly Spring day, she was leaving the ballet studio when she saw two men in green uniforms standing out front. She quickened her pace and tried to walk passed them when one of them said, "Ma'am? Are you Larissa Golovko?" As the life drained out of her she croaked a one-word reply. "Yes." "Ma'am, I'm Captain Darren Williams. It is my sad duty to inform you that your brother, Army Sergeant Sergei Golovko, was killed this morning in Afghanistan by an Improvised Explosive Device or roadside bomb." She didn't hear anything else when he told her about something called a 'death gratuity' benefit or even when he handed her the check for $100,000. She would later receive his life insurance benefit of $400,000 but she would have to request it. She stood there and listened for another ten minutes then just walked away. Robotically, she stopped by her bank on the way home and cashed the check and had two certified checks drawn up for $50,000 each. When she entered her apartment, she went inside and opened the door of the oven in her tiny kitchen and turned the black knob on top. She barely heard the sound of the hiss it made as she made her way to the table and addressed two envelopes. One was to Yana. The other was to Marissa. She didn't include a note explaining what she did or why. She put stamps on both then dropped them in the mailbox just outside her apartment. She went back inside, took off her coat and used it to seal the crack between the floor and the door. She then made her way to the futon where she'd last held him. She sat down and thought of him. When she could no longer sit up, she gently laid down and continued thinking of him until she could no longer think knowing her nightmare was finally over.