Status: active :)
Bay Boy
Seven
"You want to know about my mom?" Jordan nodded. "Okay. So basically I'm gonna talk at you for a really long time and some of the stuff I'm gonna say is gonna sound really crazy and unbelievable but it's true, I swear. Alright?" Jordan took a sip of wine, "go ahead Mila."
"Where do I even start? Alright, well my mom was born in Moscow to a math teacher, my grandma, and an engineer in a factory, my grandpa. My mom was always incredibly bright and also athletic. Her family wasn't particularly for or against communism and the Soviet government, it didn't really affect them so they didn't care. Anyways my mom always wanted to be a doctor or maybe a biomedical engineer. But the Soviet government had other ideas. They wanted her to work for them-as a KGB agent. My mom agreed, she didn't really have a choice. If you said no to the government there would be consequences, they would hurt your family or your house would burn down or something like that. The system was incredibly corrupt. So my mom spent five years working for Soviet intelligence, doing some classified stuff, working with government secrets. She was a good agent. Anyways, when my mom was twenty three, her dad, my grandpa went missing. He went to work one day and just never came home. She continued working as a KGB agent. Then when she was twenty four, she met my dad. He was twenty five and an American grad school student, doing research on Russian history to get his Phd in Russian history. They met at a coffee shop, super cliche I know. Anyways, my dad was doing research into people who were well, disposed of, killed, by the government for pretty much no reason at all. Just because the government was suspicious of them. My mom told him about her dad and they became great friends and then eventually fell in love. Eventually my dad unearthed some documents that showed her dad had been killed by the government for suspected treason with no due legal process. No trial or anything. Anyways my mom was so well, angry, she just wanted to get out of the Soviet Union. There was a brief period in 1989 when they allowed people to emigrate but the U.S wasn't willing to take her. So she said if they let her in the country she would tell them Soviet secrets, insider information. By that time she was so attached to my dad she couldn't leave him. And besides she knew the Soviet Union was close to collapsing. So the U.S agreed, the CIA took her on as a consultant and she helped them with their foreign policy towards the USSR. Some of the secrets she told them affected how they treated the USSR and led to it's collapse. But anyways my parents got married in 1989 and mom got pregnant me with me just a bit after. In late 1989 my grandma wrote a letter to my mom saying that there was a chance my Dad was still alive. My mom and dad flew back to Moscow. But it was a trick, the Soviet government knew my mom had sold her soul to the devil, to the U.S, so they trapped her in Russia, wouldn't let her leave. My grandpa was dead. So I was born in Moscow and finally in 1991, when I was one, the Soviet Union collapsed and my family went back to the U.S. My mom and I got citizenship, my dad got a job at Georgetown and my mom was still with the CIA. Everything was great. They bought a house together, the whole classic American dream. Then when I was twelve I was sitting home on a Sunday with my mom, and my mom was playing the piano. She loved the piano, she was an excellent piano player. And all of a sudden she was pressing down really hard on this one key, and then she fell off the bench. I called 911 and they came. She was admitted to the hospital and the doctors said it was a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. She went into a coma and her prognosis was grim, only one out of four people come out of comas after aneurysms and when they do they almost always have really severe disabilities. But I thought my mom would make it. I mean, one in four? My mom was one in a million easily. One in ten million maybe. She spent her life beating the odds, I truly thought she'd come out of the coma and she'd be her normal self. But then after a week of being in a coma she just died, it was so hard. I visited her everyday and her fingers would flutter and move, and the doctor said that was a good sign. But then she died. She had life in her and she fought, but she died. My dad was crushed. My mom was the light of his life. If anything could make anyone believe in soul mates and other halves and all that stuff, it was seeing them together. I was so worried about my dad. He was never truly the same after her death. But my Mam's death motivated me. I worked crazy hard and I'm going to become a doctor. I'm going to do what she couldn't. I owe it to her. That's the reason I live with my dad, I owe it to her. I'm the last bit of happiness in his life besides work and he needs me. Wherever he goes, I go. That's why I transferred to McGill after he got a job there. And this is pretty unrelated, but my first year of medical school, right after I founded I was accepted to Georgetown I got my Mam's name, Vera, tattooed on my wrist. Vera means faith in Russian. So it's fitting I guess. But yeah, that's why I don't talk about my Mam. Because even after nine years, it's incredibly painful. Sorry for ranting, you probably fell asleep during that." I hadn't noticed, but while I had been talking Jordan's large, warm hand had enveloped mine. It was comforting. "Milena," he said, his blue eyes brooding, and then he pulled me into a tender hug. It was a simple, innocent hug, one with no ulterior motives. "Mila, I'm sure your mother is very proud of you. And I understand now why you don't talk about her. I won't bring it up again, I promise. But I think you are so brave and extraordinary. You didn't drown yourself in the sadness, it made you better instead of bitter. You're remarkable, Milena Narkov. I have never met anyone like you."
"Where do I even start? Alright, well my mom was born in Moscow to a math teacher, my grandma, and an engineer in a factory, my grandpa. My mom was always incredibly bright and also athletic. Her family wasn't particularly for or against communism and the Soviet government, it didn't really affect them so they didn't care. Anyways my mom always wanted to be a doctor or maybe a biomedical engineer. But the Soviet government had other ideas. They wanted her to work for them-as a KGB agent. My mom agreed, she didn't really have a choice. If you said no to the government there would be consequences, they would hurt your family or your house would burn down or something like that. The system was incredibly corrupt. So my mom spent five years working for Soviet intelligence, doing some classified stuff, working with government secrets. She was a good agent. Anyways, when my mom was twenty three, her dad, my grandpa went missing. He went to work one day and just never came home. She continued working as a KGB agent. Then when she was twenty four, she met my dad. He was twenty five and an American grad school student, doing research on Russian history to get his Phd in Russian history. They met at a coffee shop, super cliche I know. Anyways, my dad was doing research into people who were well, disposed of, killed, by the government for pretty much no reason at all. Just because the government was suspicious of them. My mom told him about her dad and they became great friends and then eventually fell in love. Eventually my dad unearthed some documents that showed her dad had been killed by the government for suspected treason with no due legal process. No trial or anything. Anyways my mom was so well, angry, she just wanted to get out of the Soviet Union. There was a brief period in 1989 when they allowed people to emigrate but the U.S wasn't willing to take her. So she said if they let her in the country she would tell them Soviet secrets, insider information. By that time she was so attached to my dad she couldn't leave him. And besides she knew the Soviet Union was close to collapsing. So the U.S agreed, the CIA took her on as a consultant and she helped them with their foreign policy towards the USSR. Some of the secrets she told them affected how they treated the USSR and led to it's collapse. But anyways my parents got married in 1989 and mom got pregnant me with me just a bit after. In late 1989 my grandma wrote a letter to my mom saying that there was a chance my Dad was still alive. My mom and dad flew back to Moscow. But it was a trick, the Soviet government knew my mom had sold her soul to the devil, to the U.S, so they trapped her in Russia, wouldn't let her leave. My grandpa was dead. So I was born in Moscow and finally in 1991, when I was one, the Soviet Union collapsed and my family went back to the U.S. My mom and I got citizenship, my dad got a job at Georgetown and my mom was still with the CIA. Everything was great. They bought a house together, the whole classic American dream. Then when I was twelve I was sitting home on a Sunday with my mom, and my mom was playing the piano. She loved the piano, she was an excellent piano player. And all of a sudden she was pressing down really hard on this one key, and then she fell off the bench. I called 911 and they came. She was admitted to the hospital and the doctors said it was a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. She went into a coma and her prognosis was grim, only one out of four people come out of comas after aneurysms and when they do they almost always have really severe disabilities. But I thought my mom would make it. I mean, one in four? My mom was one in a million easily. One in ten million maybe. She spent her life beating the odds, I truly thought she'd come out of the coma and she'd be her normal self. But then after a week of being in a coma she just died, it was so hard. I visited her everyday and her fingers would flutter and move, and the doctor said that was a good sign. But then she died. She had life in her and she fought, but she died. My dad was crushed. My mom was the light of his life. If anything could make anyone believe in soul mates and other halves and all that stuff, it was seeing them together. I was so worried about my dad. He was never truly the same after her death. But my Mam's death motivated me. I worked crazy hard and I'm going to become a doctor. I'm going to do what she couldn't. I owe it to her. That's the reason I live with my dad, I owe it to her. I'm the last bit of happiness in his life besides work and he needs me. Wherever he goes, I go. That's why I transferred to McGill after he got a job there. And this is pretty unrelated, but my first year of medical school, right after I founded I was accepted to Georgetown I got my Mam's name, Vera, tattooed on my wrist. Vera means faith in Russian. So it's fitting I guess. But yeah, that's why I don't talk about my Mam. Because even after nine years, it's incredibly painful. Sorry for ranting, you probably fell asleep during that." I hadn't noticed, but while I had been talking Jordan's large, warm hand had enveloped mine. It was comforting. "Milena," he said, his blue eyes brooding, and then he pulled me into a tender hug. It was a simple, innocent hug, one with no ulterior motives. "Mila, I'm sure your mother is very proud of you. And I understand now why you don't talk about her. I won't bring it up again, I promise. But I think you are so brave and extraordinary. You didn't drown yourself in the sadness, it made you better instead of bitter. You're remarkable, Milena Narkov. I have never met anyone like you."
♠ ♠ ♠
What do you guys think? Comment please so I can improve my writing. Do you think I should do some more of Jordan's POV?