Page 82 of Betraying Family Vows
Before I can talk myself out of it, I reach over and grab his hand where it rests on the gear shift. His skin is warm, his fingers calloused.
Dimitri looks down at our joined hands, his expression unreadable. I pull away quickly, embarrassed by my impulsiveness.
"Sorry," I say quickly. "I know there's a chance we may be done after all this, but at least I can have this moment now. Feel like I have some control in the chaos of my life."
Suddenly, I feel Dimitri's hand reaching for mine. His fingers intertwine with mine, grip firm but gentle.
"I'd never force you to leave after all this," he says, his voice rough. “And in fact, if you even think about leaving, I'll make it my new mission to find you. Don't for a minute think you're getting away so easily and then acting like it was me who didn't want you."
My heart stutters in my chest. I turn to look out the window, not wanting Dimitri to see my face, the stupid, hopeful smile I can'tsuppress. The coast blurs by, and for the first time in years, I allow myself to imagine a future that doesn't end with me alone.
An hour later, we pull over at a gas station on the edge of a village I don't know the name of. The building is painted white, with a red tin roof and a single fuel pump that looks like it belongs in another century.
Dimitri kills the engine. For a second, neither of us moves.
Then he looks at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm going to grab water. You want anything?"
I shake my head no.
When the door slams shut behind him, the silence in the car is almost too much.
I lean back in my seat, pressing my palms over my eyes.
I don't know what I expected this would feel like, coming to the end of the story my mother left behind, but I didn't think it would feel like this. Like I'm both closer to her and further away than I've ever been.
I drop my hands and stare at the dashboard.
This is what it means to survive, I think. To hold your shape even when you're broken in places no one can see.
The driver's door opens again, and Dimitri gets in, setting two bottles of water in the cupholders.
He doesn't say anything. He just starts the engine and pulls away.
We drive in silence for a few miles before I find my voice again.
"I always thought if I ever told someone the truth, it would make me feel lighter," I say. "But it doesn't. It just feels sad."
He doesn't look at me, but his voice is steady when he answers. "That's because telling the truth sometimes doesn't fix anything. It just shows you what was broken in the first place."
I turn my face to the window again. "Well, that's bleak."
"That's life, baby."
Some more time passes in silence before he breaks it.
"When we get there, let me do the talking," he says.
"I wasn't planning on grabbing the phone and running," I say sarcastically.
He exhales a laugh.
"You'd never get past the front gate," he says.
"Well, as long as you trust me to be there."
His hand shifts on the wheel. "I do."
"Then I can't wait to meet your brothers."
