CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“We had a nice little thing going, Barry and I. I took the pills. He sold them. Eventually, he recruited that girl to help him. I told him it was a bad idea,” Galina added with a weary wave of her hand.
All of them were hovering in a combination of exhaustion, rage, grief, and another entire collection of emotions Niko couldn’t begin to describe. The staff had been sent home. The doors locked. Ilya had broken out a bottle of champagne, but the rest of them had switched to coffee or nothing at all.
“He didn’t tell me, by the way, when she started skimming the money, either. I didn’t find out any of that until after she died, and by then he owed me thousands. So I kicked him out. And you,” she added, to Theresa. “But honestly, what else could I have done? Kept you? You weren’t mine.”
“You made that abundantly clear,” Theresa said in a cold voice.
Galina gave each of them a harried, defensive stare. “None of you can understand what it was like. Struggling the way I did. The money I made from those pills—drugs those patients didn’t need, by the way, so it’s not like I was taking something away from them. That money bought your sneakers and sent you to camp. It paid for the pizzas you ordered on a Saturday night. I did what I had to do. That’s all.”
Niko rubbed at his eyes. “And it caught up to you, huh?”
“I moved to South Carolina, and I’m not proud, but yes, I ran into some trouble.”
“You didn’t quit your job at the hospital down there. You were fired,” Ilya said. He looked like shit, and Niko couldn’t blame him.
“I quit. But I was named in part of a roundup. I got five years. It would’ve been more, but I gave up some other names. You do what you have to do,” Galina said.
“How could you have gone to prison without telling us?” Alicia asked.
Galina scowled. “I think that’s a question you all should answer for yourselves. How could I, indeed? How could I be essentially missing for years, not a damned word from any one of you. You never bothered to find out where I was, what I was doing. I could’ve been dead!”
“You weren’t dead. We got your Christmas cards,” Ilya said.
Niko wanted to give his brother a high five in that moment but refrained. It felt irreverent and wrong, especially in the face of Alicia’s obvious red-eyed grief. “How’d you manage that?”
“I sent them to a friend, who mailed them for me without a prison stamp. I didn’t want you to know, any of you. I didn’t want you to worry.”
Ilya’s lip curled. “Or you were ashamed?”
“Of course I was ashamed!” Galina shouted.
Silence. Painful, awkward, broken only by the sputter of the coffeepot on the counter behind Theresa. Ilya let out a strangled laugh, though his expression was humorless. Niko put an arm around Alicia, pulling her closer, offering what comfort he could. It wasn’t much. It might not have been enough, in fact, but he was grateful she let him.
“My driver’s license lapsed. I lost my medical license. I couldn’t work in my career any longer, and what else could I do? I got word my mother was dying. I came home, thinking at least I have a place to stay and people who will love me. My family. I should have known better.” Galina shook her head, then put her face in her hands and started to cry.
Niko had seen those sorts of tears too many times to be truly sympathetic, although his instinct was, and maybe would always be, to try to defuse the situation with her. This time he managed to keep his mouth shut. It was Ilya who stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder.
Galina looked up with a hopeful expression. “Ilya. Believe me, I’m so very sorry. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished here tonight. The last thing in the world I wanted was for tonight to be ruined.”
“Then you should’ve told us all of this a long time ago,” he said without a shred of sympathy in his tone. “When I get home tonight, I want you gone.”
More silence, and this time it was fierce. Beneath his arm, Alicia’s entire body tensed. Niko thought she might say something, but what could she do? Defend Galina?
Not a single one of them did.
She stood, slowly, stiffly. Her shoulders squared. Chin lifted.
“A thankless child is sharper than a fang,” she said, misquoting Shakespeare. “All of you. I may not have been the best mother—”
“No,” Ilya said. “No, you were never even close.”
Galina continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “But I love you. All of you. Yes, Theresa, even you. And I wanted nothing more than to come home and have us all be a family again. I’m sorry that none of you can appreciate that.”
“Be gone when I get home,” Ilya said again.
“It’s still my house,” Galina whispered finally in a broken voice. She looked at Niko, her gaze pleading. She held out a hand, clearly expecting him to take her side. “Where on earth do you expect me to go?”
Niko was done placating and making excuses for her. “You’ll find a place. You always do.”
“Fine.” She gathered herself and gave them each another long, hard look before she let herself out the front door.
From the parking lot came the flash of lights and the sound of tires on the gravel. None of them said anything for a few seconds. Theresa turned on her heel and went into the kitchen, and after a second, Ilya followed her. Alicia turned to look up at Niko. She wasn’t crying, but it was clear she was barely hanging on.
“I want to go home. Please, take me home,” she said.
“Anything,” Niko promised. “Anything you need.”