Page 78 of Vasily the Nail

“Who says I’m leaving?”

Artyom scowls, his grip tightening along with his jaw, the muscles ticking there. He’s quiet for a long time, deliberating over his words until the light finally changes and he continues to weave his way through Flagstaff. “Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted to do? You don’t think I’ve forgotten the plans you once made with Brooke, do you?”

“Plans I never should have made. If I hadn’t been so busy in school, papa never would have had to give her a ride to work that day. She wouldn’t have been there when the bomb went off.”

“That was a fluke, and you know it. You cannot possibly believe that wanting to leave Flagstaff is the reason she died that day. You might have still been in class, or you might have been sick or working or who knows what. How could you possibly think the two things are in any way connected?”

“You know why.”

Artyom rolls his eyes, like he does every time I remind him I’m schizophrenic. After that first, terrible incident with the voice, the shrink told Artyom it might have been a one-off event and I may never have a full psychotic episode again, and he took it as a guarantee.

But I need to push it.

“What if I lost control of my schizophrenia? What if Ana and I set out into the world together, and I’m the only one she has to rely on? If she can’t get a job or she has a kid and I’m the only one working, and I lose my fucking mind?”

“I’m sure if you were going to, it would have happened already.”

“Average age of onset is 21 to 25 in men. My first episode was at 20, I’m 26 now, I hear voices all the fucking time.”

“You don’t! You hear your fucking conscience, you jackass!”

“Can we not do this right now? Not while you’re trying to kick me out of the fucking brigade?”

“I’m not trying to—!” Artyom cuts himself off, holding his tongue until he pulls off into a parking lot for us to duke it out.

The parking lot where Hector’s cousin and that piece of Irish garbage died.

Fucking hell.

I sit there glowering as he slams his door, marches around the car, his body cutting long shadows from the headlights as he passes them, and throws my door open. He grabs me by the collar to pull me out, but I’m a good boy. I always wear my seatbelt. He practically clotheslines me, but I remain in my seat.

“Take it off!”

I cross my arms over my chest and pout. Brooke was good at pouting, but Ana is a pro. I can learn from that.

“Vasya, I will shoot you in the foot, and then Ana really will be stuck with a lay-about and will never be able to get either of you on your feet because you’re gonna get lazy and spend all your time playing that stupid video game in your boxer shorts until you’re too fat to get around on a bum foot. Ana’s gonna leave your fat ass for some hot ski instructor and take the kids with her, and you’re gonna see them every other weekend until they admit that they hate McDonald’s and your apartment smells bad, and then you never see them again. So you’ll crawlyour ass back here and fuck up whatever great life I’m having because I’ll be stuck taking care of you because that’s what family does.”

I slump in my seat as I unbuckle the belt. That hurt a lot.

He pulls me out, but he’s gentle about it, setting me on my feet and embracing me in the way only a brother can, with a hard thump on my back and a tight enough squeeze someone’s liable to break a rib. “The worst mistake I ever made was keeping you from going back to school.”

But he didn’t keep me from doing anything, not in that sense. I made the choice not to go back to school, and that’s on me. “It doesn’t matter. I was never going to finish with the” —voices, but I’m not going to start that fight up again— “shit I was dealing with. And you needed me here.”

“I needed youhappy. You know this. I was never going to force you into this life. Dad might have in his way, but never me. It was my responsibility to take over, not yours.”

“And when you die? What then?”

“I’m not dying anytime soon. I’m going to live a long, healthy life, and you’re never going to get that opportunity if you stay here. Listen, I don’t want it to be like this. I wish we had normal lives and you could go to school and get the girl and find the right place to start your family and build your career and come back to visit on the holidays. That’s the life you deserve. That’s not the case, and I will miss you every fucking day even as I pray I never see you again.”

“Well, this sucks.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“So, what, you’re not going to miss me?” I shake my head. “Wait, no, what am I saying? I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I’m Bratva for life.”

Artyom’s lips quirk up, making it clear he knows that I’m just saying what I’m supposed to, not what’s in my heart. “Because I would hunt you down and kill you.”

“Right.”

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