Zariah
That must have been the worst night of my life. In truth, I went off. It was a combination of menstruation cramps, not living my dream career, and the ‘Top Ten worst MMA leg injuries’ list. I almost puked while watching each one because I was too damn dumb not to watch. I just had to see what these men go through for their love of fighting. I spoke with Samuel about it, as I value the love he and his wife model, he told me that people oftentimes argue in their marriage. It’s all about coming back together after a fight, not allowing those feelings to propel us further apart. So I must’ve wallowed and apologized, and Vassili didn’t use the shit I slung at him in our argument at all, as I’ve seen occur in other people’s relationships. He simply accepted my apology.
Over the next couple of months, my husband completes rehabilitation. Every increase in his strength, he equates to his queen and his princess. We have arguments, but none of them parallel in comparison to that night.
When Vassili returns to Vadim’s Gym, Natasha is nine months old, and I silently pray that God keeps my husband safe as he spars with Nestor. Yuri is shouting about how good of a fighter his cousin is, in that accent, all I want to do is laugh about how he says cousin, but I’m too nervous.
Taryn bumps her shoulder against mine. “Girl, everything is good. Now, give me that baby so you can go cheer your man.”
I chuckle. When I grab Natasha by the underarms to hold her out, she pulls against me. “No!”
“Oh hell naw,” Taryn says. “How many times have I snuck you candy when I watched you while your mom and dad went on a date. I have blown off many Friday nights for your little cute self.”
Natasha shakes her head.
“Oh, Natasha,” Yuri turns to her. “Taryn and I took you to Disneyland—”
“You took my baby to Disneyland?!” I snap.
Taryn grumbles under her breath. “Boy, why?” She gives him an incredulous look; for a super-rich girl, her attitude can switch up in a minute.
He shrugs. “It was just a few hours while you guys were at the Bruno Mars concert. But… uh…”
“Vassili and I haven’t taken her yet,” I pout.
“Look on the bright side.” Taryn grins, “You aren’t worried about Vassili now. You can just take out all that rage on Yuri.” She sinks back into the foldable chair and laughs her ass off.
Yuri says something in Russian. Natasha’s eyes widen. Somehow, I believe my baby understands. Her dad says certain things in Russian, too, that shit pisses me off.
“Good, Good,” Vadim shouts as they work on a few standard routines. I glance toward the cage. “Tell Nestor if you feel any pain.”
Vassili says something in Russian. Here we go again. I narrow my eyes at him, and he winks at me.
“He just said he’s a pussy, and will do,” Nestor laughs while blocking another hit.
Vassili fires on him, crosses and hooks. “Don’t say that word in front of my baby!”
“Okay!” Nestor does his best to block most hits, and although he’s wearing head gear, he stumbles around.
“That is good!” Vadim grips the cage, while ordering from the outside, “Now, no horsing around, Vassili.”
Natasha climbs down my leg. She’s started to stand on her own. She holds onto the edge of my skirt and begins to move around to see her father.
“Vassili!” I shout. She starts to walk.
“Vassili!” Taryn and I screech in unison.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” Yuri says. “My Godbaby!”
“She’s walking. Go Natasha,” Vassili says, as he and Nestor pump a fist in the air.
“Next year, I want you in my cage, Natasha,” Vadim adds.
“No she won’t,” I quickly say, while laughing and cheering. She falls down. I hurry to catch her, and Vassili picks her up before I can. Damn, he got out of the cage and down here in a second.
“Taryn did you get this on camera,” I ask her.
Her eyes brighten. She gives this idiot look. I shake my head. My friend still doesn’t have a job, she still lives off her father and Yuri as well. I glance at him. He shrugs. Damn, these two are a match made in heaven. He loves his exotic Asian and black girlfriend, and she loves his dumbass.
“Oh no, we didn’t take a picture or anything.” I pout.
“Don’t worry, I got it.” We all glance toward the weight section.
Sergy, the three-headed monster adds, “I got video.”
He hands over his phone. Within an album full of selfies, there is a short clip of Natasha walking. “Way to go, Yuri, when I send this to my mom, all she will hear is your cussing ‘Oh shit.’”
Sergy nods. “I didn’t get it when she first started, but I got a couple of steps, the way you were all shouting about it, I thought I should. Vassili, I’ll text it to you.”
My husband nudges me softly as I thank him. Vassili knows damn well that every time I cross paths with Sergio I’m still a little embarrassed about how I came in and cussed him out. I’ve never cussed anyone out so badly, besides my husband, but that’s just a part of marriage.