Page 31 of Brutal Secrets

Nona’s lips turn down in a grimace. She scowls at me, her face pulled out of its usual smile. “He no good man?” she asks shrewdly.

“How did you know? That’s what he said.”

There’s a crash from outside the kitchen and then the patter of footsteps as Nadia comes bowling into the kitchen, her long hair wafting around her head. She’s still in pajamas and she’s carrying a brush.

“I need braids, Mom. Nona has to do the Wednesday hair for me.” She throws the brush down on the table. We haven’t even hit the teen years, and already every other thing is a challenge.

“Wednesday hair? It’s Friday.” I pick up the brush and turn to her.

“No, Mom. You are so . . . duh.”

She doesn’t even have the words for what I am, and her eyes roll so fast they could knock over bowling pins. Her expression reminds me of last night, when I told her father he had a daughter, but I still pull her into my lap and inhale her toasted-bread smell.

She slings her leg over mine and snuggles into my neck, her words muffled as I squeeze her tighter and rain down kisses on her hair. “Wednesday Addams. Not the day of the week. Don’t you know anything?”

Apparently not, I think to myself, if last night is anything to go by.

My stomach twists when I consider how the reality of meeting Vadim will square with the stories I’ve told Nadia about her father. That she was conceived in love. That the man who helped create her made me feel protected and cherished, even if he lived in a country far away.

Was it a fairy tale or more like telling children about Santa, making them believe in the magic of life before all the golden things get tarnished by time?

Nadia picks up the brush and jumps off my lap. “Nona does better braids than you.” She walks over to Nona and hands the brush to her. “My eyes don’t go with the look. Can I get black contacts?”

“What? No. You can’t. And you can’t be Wednesday either. She hates her mom.” I stick out my tongue at Nadia.

She pulls a face back. “I don’t hate you, Mom. I just think you’re embarrassing.”

“Okay. Get Nona to do your hair, then go get dressed. We’ve got twenty minutes to get out the door, and you haven’t eaten anything.” I stand on weary legs and get ready for the walk to school.

That’s the joy of New York—you can walk everywhere. I promised myself that if I was in town, I’d be the one to take Nadia to school myself, even if the bitchy throngs of moms at the school gate offer a cold welcome and Nadia would prefer to be driven in a town car like the cool kids. It’s hard to give your kid any sense of the real world when you have money and staff, but not being chauffeured to school is a start.

I’m pulling on my shoes when Nadia walks out with perfect braids, and I point her to the sensible flat school shoes when she tries to pick up the Wednesday Addams style clunky platforms. Walking keeps your feet on the ground.

As I’m heading out the door with Nadia, Nona puts her hand on my arm. “You come back. We talk.”

The walk to school is a blur. Nadia’s chattering away about how Wednesday Addams doesn’t care about what people think and why she needs to dye her hair black if she and her friends are going to form a detective club. Her braids bob as I walk behind her.

How much of the way she bounces on her feet is me and how much is Vadim? With her blue eyes, she looks so much like her father. I’m almost tempted to invest in a pair of black contacts for her as she ambles through the school gates, talking to a bunch of kids I don’t know. The days when I had a grip on her friendships are drawing to a close. She doesn’t look back as she walks through the wide oak doors, and I turn toward home.

I’m saved from further dark thoughts when the phone rings.

“Stevie. Did you get home okay?”

There’s a dark laugh as I walk past the deli and a string of coffee shops. “Yeah, no thanks to lover boy. Kept going on about how he knows I want to sleep with you. His goons manhandled me out of the club.” He sighs. “What are you going to do now? Does he want to play a role in Nadia’s life? When are you going to tell her?”

I just hold the phone to my ear as I walk past the commuters on their way to work, the moms in their lululemon, and the occasional clubber coming back from a night out. I wonder how many of them had their lives upended last night.

“What’s the plan?” He keeps firing questions like bullets as I wait for the lights to change. Red, yellow, green.

“I don’t know, Stevie. I don’t think he wants to play an active role in Nadia’s life,” I say, stalling.

“Well, that’s good, right? Nothing needs to change.”

“What?” I splutter. “How is it good that Nadia’s father doesn’t want to get to know her? On what planet is that good news?”

“Well...” There’s a pause as Stevie breathes heavily. “He could be suing you for custody or asking you guys to move so that he has more access. He could be all up in your business.”

I think about the burner phone which sits in silent reproach in my purse. I don’t tell him that Vadim will probably be so up in my business he’ll turn my life upside down. Just not in a good way. And he’s not even offering a relationship with Nadia.

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