Belonging

I walk downstairs, my eyes shifting from side to side as I hold my phone loosely in my right hand. My grandfather messaged me to tell me he's taking Maxim to the rehabilitation centre at six a.m. whilst I was still asleep. It's nine now, so hopefully he'll be back soon.

I walk into the kitchen, surprised to see Aleksander behind the counter. He looks over at me and smiles.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Are you hungry?"

"I was just going to make toast." I whisper.

"You sit down, I'll make it for you." He says. So I go over to the other side of the counter and pull myself up onto one of the stools.

Stupidly, I had assumed my grandfather would leave me home alone. I didn't think that he would leave one of my brothers in charge of me while he was gone, but I suppose I should've known he would.

"The other day, when you were on holiday and I called you.." he begins, and I already know where the direction of the conversation is going. I shift uncomfortably in my seat as he continues on, "and Ivan said that we were going to see Angelina now, I want to talk to you about it."

"It's okay," I whisper. "You.. you don't have to explain anything to me. She is your cousin and you've known her forever. You don't have to stop talking to her because of me."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, "Ana, we didn't go there to have fun with her. We hadn't spoken to her since everything happened, so we went to explain to her the consequences her actions produced." He tells me softly. "None of us are interested in talking to her, not after what she did to you. And just because we've known her longer it doesn't mean we like her more than you. We don't. None of us do."

"Petro does." I whisper. "And Ivan.. and.. and, well.. more of you do too." He opens his mouth to talk so I rush my next sentence out before he can interrupt me. "I-I really don't mind if you want to go see her again-"

"Anastasiya, please listen to what I'm saying." He says, rounding the counter. He sits next to me as two pieces of bread heat up in the toaster. "We don't want to see her again. Petro doesn't, and Ivan doesn't. None of us do."

"Are you sure?" I whisper.

"I'm positive." He responds. "Here, let me show you something." He pulls his phone out and sets it on the counter between us. He clicks on a photo of a run down home. There are cracks in the brick walls and one of the windows looks to be smashed.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Angelina's new house." He tells me. My eyes widen as I look up at him. "Another reason why we had to go was because they were trying to get back into their old house to stay there, the one grandad pays for. We were stopping them."

"That's really where they live now?" I ask.

"Mhm. And she goes to a different school now too. You won't be seeing her again, okay?"

I nod a little bit. The toasted bread pops up and I jump. He smirks a little bit as he stands up, rounding the counter again. He grabs a plate out before smearing the toast with butter. He slides the plate over to me and I thank him quietly before beginning to eat it. He pours me a glass of orange juice and hands it to me too.

"So you don't need to worry about anything related to her." He assures me. "And you definitely don't need to worry about any of us liking her over you, because that couldn't be further from the truth."

I nod, despite the fact I know that isn't the case for all of them, namely Petro. But I don't say anything about it. His words comfort me in a way I didn't know words could, like how my grandfathers did yesterday. His reassurance encases me within a cocoon of relief and gratitude; I find that my shoulders are released of a weight of much magnitude as I start to eat my buttery toast.