Brothers Forever

by Tawa M. Witko

  The morning I was to go back to school, my father told me in no uncertain terms that I was to talk to no one today. I decide to take him literally and don’t say a word to anyone, not even Mrs. Morris, which of course garners another phone call to my father. Now that I think about it, that was probably not a good idea because he is going to be angry at me. I wonder if anyone would notice if I didn’t go home at all. Car after car is coming through, picking up their kids, and I am praying that Dad’s driver somehow forgets where the school is.

  “Did you…umm…trouble?” I hear and look up to see Dimitri standing in front of me.

  I laugh. “I’m always in trouble so don’t worry about it. Sit down,” I say motioning towards the bench, which he sits down on. “So why did your family move to Chicago?”

  “My father…umm…” his eyebrows scrunch together like he is trying to think of the right word.

  “Business?” I offer.

  “Yes, business. I’m sorry, I have only studied English for a year, my words aren’t… good.”

  “I understand you just fine,” I say laughing. “Did Ricky and them give you a hard time when I was gone?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Good!” I say and then ask curiously, “So what kind of business does your dad do?”

  He shrugs and I smile. “Yeah, same as mine. How old are you anyway?” I ask, curious since he looks so much younger than me.

  “Eight, how old are you?”

  “I’m almost nine. When’s your birthday?”

  “In October," he says looking at me strangely.

  “Well mine is in a couple of months so that makes me older.”

  He smiles at me, letting me ramble.

  “I need to teach you how to fight, because in America the boys are mean. It doesn’t matter if you have money or what your parents do. All the boys here have money or big time fathers and, no offense, but you’re kind of small, which means people will pick on you. Do you have any brother’s or anything? You know, to look out for you?” I ask quickly.

  He shakes his head again.

  “I don’t have any brothers either but I am a good fighter so they don’t mess with me,” I state proudly. “I mean, with a name like Charles I better be a good fighter,” I say laughing.

  “What's wrong with Charles?”

  “Ah, nothing, I guess. It’s just that I was named after my father AND my grandfather,” I say with a frown.

  “I am named after my father too.”

  I look at him and smile. “So you are a junior, huh? How do you say junior in Russian?”

  “Mladshiĭ,” he says.

  I nod. “Mladshiĭ. I like that, that’s what I’m going to start calling you. Everyone in America has a nickname,” I say very seriously.

  He grins and nods. “I will call you…” he looks up for a minute, like he is really thinking, and then he gets this huge smile on his face. “I will call you Bolʹshoĭ брат, Bolʹshoĭ for short.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means Big Brother, since you are… older,” he says laughing.

  We both laugh, then a big black car pulls up and two very large men get out.

  “Dimitri, ваш отец ждет вас,” one of the men says in a deep voice, waving towards Dimitri.

  Dimitri looks at me and frowns. “My father is waiting for me. He will be angry if I make him wait,” he says sadly.

  “Well, you better go. I know my dad always gets mad at me when I make him wait.”

  He gets up and starts walking towards the car, and when he gets close to it, he stops and turns, waving at me frantically. “See you tomorrow, Bolʹshoĭ.”

  I smile. “Later, Mladshiĭ."

  He grins again and then I see those two guys talking to him intently in Russian and get him in the car quickly. He is explaining something to them and then the men turn to me. Before I can contemplate it any further, my father’s driver pulls up in front of the school and steps out of the vehicle, opening the car door for me. As I go to step inside, he looks at me and shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You shouldn’t aggravate your father so much.”

  I sigh and slide inside the car on to the soft leather seats. I know that I shouldn’t aggravate him but it seems that it doesn’t matter what I do. It’s never good enough for him anyway so what’s the point. Maybe he will just avoid me again. Like he did the last time. I hope so.

  “Mr. Livingston, we are approaching O’Hare and will be landing in 10 minutes.” Avery announces over the intercom, bringing me out of my memory.

  I blink my eyes a couple of times and look outside the window, seeing the city of Chicago getting closer and closer. It’s been twenty-five years since Estelle and I barely escaped the Chicago city limits. Let’s just hope I make it out again.

  Chapter 10

  After landing, I gather my things and approach the door that Avery has opened for me. I feel a heaviness in my heart that wasn’t there before. It’s like the city knows I shouldn’t be here and is sending me the vibe to get the hell out while I still can.

  “Sir, your driver will be waiting for you. How long will we be staying?” Avery asks.

  “Hopefully only a few hours. Refuel and stay on standby. I will call you later with details,” I say crisply.

  “Yes, sir,” he replies before walking back into the cockpit.

  I tighten my jacket around me as I step into the cool, fall air. I put my Ray-Bans back on as well, more to mask my eyes than anything else. I don’t know why I am feeling so paranoid. There is no way that Dimitri would know I am in town and we would never have people just hanging out at the airport. That’s not how things were done. I make my way through the airport and no one pays any attention to me. Thank God for the apathy of big cities. People could care less. When I get to the curb, I see a man with a sign that says Mr. Livingston on it. Oh, for crying out loud. I look around to see if anyone has noticed him, and when I get there, I snatch the sign out of his hand angrily.

  “Don’t you ever hold a sign up for me!” I growl at him and see him cower before me.

  “So…sorr…rryy, sss…ir,” he stutters as he opens the door.

  I get in the car, shaking my head. As he pulls into traffic, he glances at me from the rearview mirror and the look on my face tells him that I am not some everyday businessman, even though I am in my navy Gucci Suit. I thought about wearing my jeans but that would surely have sent a message to Dimitri that I was there for trouble versus a negotiation. So, I opted for the suit I packed. I rub my temples and close my eyes, already feeling the telltale signs of a migraine coming on.

  “Where to, sir?” My driver says, trying to gain some form of composure.

  “Take me to Navy Pier,” I say, leaning my head back and feeling my chest heave.

  I need to calm down before I see Dimitri. There is no way I can walk in there feeling like this. His men will eat me alive, hell, Dimitri will kill me on the spot for coming in there showing weakness. I shake my head at that thought and turn towards the window, glancing at the buildings and places that marked my childhood. Forty minutes later, we are pulling up in front of Navy Pier.

  “I will be parked over there,” he motions to where the limousines and drivers park.

  “I won’t be long,” I say as I exit the vehicle, gripping my briefcase firmly in my hand.

  As he pulls away, I glance over at the fountain. It is a huge square with water that sprays out from all angles. A long time ago, there was a different fountain here. It wasn’t as fancy as this one, but it was still a lot of fun. I can see parent’s taking pictures of their children in front of it but at the same time they are hollering at them not to get wet. I can’t help but grin as my eyes close momentarily.

  “Bolʹshoĭ, you are going to get us in trouble!”

  “Are you afraid, Mladshiĭ? It’s just a little water,” I say, laughing as I run and jump underneath the sprays of the fountain.

  The next thing I know
, I am face down on the concrete and Dimitri is on top of me.

  “I’m not afraid!” he says, laughing as I buck him off me.

  He jumps up and takes off around the fountain with me in hot pursuit.

  I take a deep breath and turn towards the entrance to the pier. Dimitri and I spent most of our youth here. There wasn’t much here when we were younger. It didn’t turn into a tourist attraction until the 90’s and we were already long gone by then. But back in the 70’s and 80’s, it was quiet. It had some vendors and I think there was a school here once as well but mostly people used to just hang out. I liked it because it was peaceful. This is where Dimitri and I used to go when we wanted to talk without his father’s men overhearing us. I came here all the time, it was my best thinking spot. I look at all the families walking around. There are so many people here. This was a mistake. I shake my head and make my way to the far end of the pier where there are less people. I stand at the railing and look out onto Lake Michigan. How many times did Dimitri and I find ourselves here? It seemed like it was daily, especially when things got hectic and crazy. I run my hand through my hair and sit down on one of the benches, blocking out all the noise around me, and remember when our lives changed forever.

  “Okay, what’s going on Mladshiĭ?” I ask angrily.

  He doesn’t say anything; he just stands against the ledge of the pier holding onto the top rung and looking over it into the water. He has been standing there for close to ten minutes already. It’s freaking cold out here too. I know something is wrong. He has been extraordinarily quiet all day, but when I questioned him he said that we would talk about it later at the pier. That’s all he gave me. His birthday was yesterday, but I didn’t see him because his dad had taken him out of school for the day and wouldn’t let me talk to him when I called later that night.

  “Damn it, Mladshiĭ, if you don’t tell me right now I am going to beat the crap out of you. What’s going on? Is this related to your dad?” I ask, grasping at straws.

  It’s got to be about his dad because he was fine the day before his birthday. When I mention his dad, he lets out some sort of weird chuckle and shakes his head but I’m not sure if that is supposed to mean yes, it’s about his dad or no, it’s not about his dad. I wish he would just tell me already.

  “Bolʹshoĭ, you know what my father does right?” He asks softly.

  We have never actually talked about what his father does for a living. I suspected it was something illegal, primarily because there are always big men around and his father doesn’t go anywhere that I know of. And well, there is always someone ‘watching’ Dimitri. I never wanted to stereotype them but I sort of assumed his dad was some kind of mob guy. It never mattered to me. He was my friend, who cared who his dad was!

  I sigh. “No, not really. Does he do something illegal?”

  Now, Dimitri full out laughs. One of those laughs that originates deep in your belly and comes out loud and almost scary. If there was anyone else around and saw him they would surely think he was nuts. And, to be honest, he is sort of freaking me out right now. When he finally stops laughing, he turns around and leans against the bars of the pier’s ledge. He is staring at me and I swear I see tears in his eyes. This can’t be good.

  “Is your father still pushing you to be some kind of financial asset manager?”

  I frown. “Yeah, he has my life already planned. Why?”

  “So does mine,” he says cryptically.

  “What’s going on, Mladshiĭ?”

  “Yesterday...” he pauses and looks down. “I thought that my dad wanted to meet with me, you know, man to man.” He looks up at me and I nod.

  “That’s not what he wanted?” I ask the question but I already know the answer based on Dimitri’s reaction and the look he has on his face right now.

  He shakes his head. “No, he told me that since I am now becoming a man that it was important for me to start preparing for my new life.”

  “Your new life? What does that mean?”

  “That’s what I asked and he told me that as his only son it was expected that I would take over the ‘business’ when he either retired or was killed. That I am the future head of the Komarovski family.” He pauses and I try to control the panic that is starting to envelop me. “He said that I needed to ‘train’ to take over for him and that I was expected to ‘toughen’ up,” he finishes, looking down with a sad expression on his face.

  I hate that his dad always makes him feel like he isn’t good enough, isn’t tough enough. I mean Dimitri is tough, maybe he’s not mob guy tough, but he is still tough. He looks up at me and he just seems so lost, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. This is messed up.

  “We spent all day yesterday going over everything that I will ‘take over’.” He looks down again and now I can actually see tears coming out of his eyes.

  I jump up from the bench and walk over to him quickly, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Screw him, Dimitri. You decide, not him.”

  “No, I don’t, I don’t decide at all. I will never decide. Ever again. Maybe I never did in the first place.”

  He falls to the ground, like his legs just give out or something. I look down just as he raises his knees and wraps his arms around his legs, sobbing. I am at a loss. I have never seen anyone cry before and don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I mean, I can’t fix this. I can’t change his father or what his father has planned for him any more than I can change my father or my father’s plans for me. I finally just sit down next to him, bringing my knees up and then turn to watch him, feeling my eyes water at my best friend’s pain. We sit like this for a long time, not saying a word, until I can’t take it anymore.

  “I wish there was something brilliant that I could say but, Mladshiĭ, I don’t know what to tell you. What I can say is that you are my friend. We are brothers and I won’t let you go through this alone. I’ll protect you as best as I can,” I say determinedly.

  He turns to me and wipes his eyes, which are now as wide as saucers. “You can’t do that, Bolʹshoĭ. I am bound, you are not.”

  “We are brothers, that makes me bound,” I say, moving my hand up.

  He looks at my hand and grabs it. “Brothers forever,” he says as he squeezes my hand tightly.

  “Brothers forever,” I repeat, squeezing his hand as well.

  Chapter 11

  Senior Year

  Charles's 18th Birthday

  “Bolʹshoĭ,” Dimitri calls to me as he pushes my arm and makes me stumble a bit.

  “Quit it, man,” I say, frowning.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks concerned. “You’ve been acting weird all day!”

  I laugh. “I know, sorry. I need to talk to you. Later though, alright?”

  He gives me a strange look. “Like we need to go to the pier kind of talking?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, but later, tomorrow, okay?”

  “Bolʹshoĭ, do that thing with the knife,” Viktor slurs, interrupting us before Dimitri can inquire further.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. We are at the bar celebrating my 18th birthday. My dad was pissed that I bypassed some shindig at the country club to come hang with Dimitri, but I don’t care. I am already going to Harvard, isn’t that enough? Dimitri isn’t going to be happy about that. The past nine years we have been inseparable and I mean literally inseparable. We do everything together. We’ve even dated the same girls before. This will be the first time we are apart and, I don’t know, I am nervous. Oh, I am sure I can be gone and I will be fine but, who will look out for him? Viktor? Stephan? Yeah, I don’t think so. Plus, damn it, who am I supposed to hang out with? Dimitri is my best friend and brother. How the am I supposed to not talk to him every day? How am I supposed to have a life without him in it?

  “Bolʹshoĭ... come on,” Viktor slurs again except this time he raises his hands and starts shouting my name over and over again, getting everyone riled up.

  “Alright, alright,” I reply laughing.


  I pull out my hunting knife, which was a birthday gift from Dimitri last year. It's a really cool knife made from Damascus steel that is engraved with ‘brothers forever’ in Russian. Once I got it, I started messing with it all the time, flipping it in my hands, catching it in the air, throwing it. I am really good now so every time Viktor gets drunk, which is often, he wants me to do tricks. It’s my birthday though, don’t I get to decide what I want to do?

  “Okay, hold on,” I say as I slick my hair back that is falling in my face and shake my hands at my side.

  I grab my knife and hit a target on the wall. Everyone starts clapping so I do it several more times, each time in a more dramatic and exaggerated fashion. When I am done with each throw, I turn to everyone, bowing to all kinds of whooping and hollering, egging me on. I glance at Dimitri, who is laughing, as he waves his hand and a few seconds later a pretty girl is right behind me, moving her hands up my chest and then down over my belt buckle, touching me through my pants.

  “Happy Birthday, Bolʹshoĭ,” she purrs.

  I turn around and face her. She touches me some more and I smirk, leaning down and kissing her soundly on the lips, much to the delight of the crowd. By the time I am done kissing her, she is breathless and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she wants me. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and walk us over to the table that Dimitri is at. He kicks the chair out for me, laughing at how drunk I am. I sit down and bring her on my lap, moving my hand up and down her leg and she immediately brings her mouth to my neck. Dimitri pushes a package across the table, drawing my attention away from the girl. I should probably ask her what her name is.

  “С днем рождения, брат,” he says with a smile.

  “I thought this was my birthday present,” I question, moving my leg up and making the girl on my lap bounce. She starts giggling and slaps my shoulder playfully.