Chapter Text
“It can’t be that hard,” Yevgeny’s friend Asher says, taking a hit from his vape. “Can’t you google who your dad is?”
Yevgeny was ditching his fucking math class and was hanging out with his best friend on the school bleachers. The nice thing about going to a rich ass private school is that they won’t kick you out as long as your parents donate enough money. Skipping class doesn’t make his mother happy, but math is fucking stupid and Asher had a new vape flavor, chocolate chip cookie. It was disgusting but it was better than math.
“I tried,” Yevgeny says, taking the vape for his turn. “There’s a fuckton of Milkoviches in Chicago. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Are you sure your dad has the same name as you?” Asher asks as he coughs.
“Yeah, my mom hasn’t told me much but I know he’s a Milkovich and he’s from Chicago and that the marriage didn’t work out,” Yevgeny lets out a long exhale of shitty chocolate chip cookie smelling vapor. “When I googled it turns out most Milkoviches are in prison.”
“You think your real dad is in prison? That’s a good reason why a marriage wouldn’t work out.”
Yevgeny shrugs his shoulders and hands his friend his vape back.
Asher was easy to talk to, he’s one of the only kids that isn’t as judgemental as their rich ass parents. New versus old money apparently is an important distinction in the upper class world and Yevgeny’s mom is new money, marrying rich and on top of that she’s an immigrant. As he’s gotten older he’s noticed how other people in the neighborhood treat them differently.
“Like I said, it doesn’t narrow it down much. Plus I have a hard time seeing my mom being married to a criminal.”
“Right, cause old fucks are more her jam,” Asher teases.
“Her current husband is an appropriate age jackass,” Yevgeny flips his friend off. His mom is looked down upon around the northside for marrying a dying man just for his money. According to his mom that's why any woman gets married, she’s just more honest about it.
“Can’t you look at your birth certificate?”
“I don’t know where my mom keeps that stuff. I tried requesting it from the city or whatever but it turns out you have to be eighteen in Illinois to request a copy of your own fucking birth certificate,” Yevgeny sighs heavily.
“If I were you I would hire a private investigator,” Asher says. “My aunt hired one to track down her cheating boyfriend. I bet they can find your dad.”
Yevgeny thought for a moment. He kind of feels stupid for not thinking of it before.
“You think you can ask your aunt for the PI’s number?”
Yevgeny enters his step dad’s house, his footsteps echoing on the cold marble floor. It’s not his house, this isn’t his home. His mom married this Howie guy six months ago after a year of dating. Yevgeny is pretty sure she doesn’t love him. Just married him for the money and status so she can keep living this upper class life. Though he doesn’t understand why, she often makes friends with the help of his friends parents rather than the other rich people in the neighborhood. Birthday parties, sport celebrations, pool parties, his mom can be found in the kitchen talking with the maids and cooks. She even made friends with the janitor at school. She doesn’t seem to be interested in other rich people, she often calls them assholes and idiots.
He walks through the house and enters the kitchen. It’s white and devoid of any personality. It looks like it belongs in a model home. Kitchens on TV of kids’ homework and drawings display. A note from mom to remind dad that leftovers are in the fridge with instructions to heat up after soccer practice. This place has none of that and it makes Yevgeny feel lonely.
He opens the giant door to the fridge and pulls out a can of those fruity seltzer waters Howie likes. He wants to get the vape flavor out of his mouth. He takes a swig and puts it back in the fridge. His mom will probably yell at him for that later.
Yevgeny heads up to his room. He hasn’t unpacked everything. This is his mom’s fifth marriage and he’s only sixteen. There was whoever his birth dad is, then the old guy that he barely remembers. He died a few months after the wedding. Then there was Carson, some finance bro who moved to London and for some reason his mom didn’t want to leave the county so they got a divorce. Then she was single for a while but when the tuition for his private school went up his mom married another divorced mom whose family owns a hospital or something. Apparently the whole gay thing was only a post marriage phase for Chloe and cheated with Yevgeny’s baseball coach. Now it’s Howie, a nice and boring guy. Yevgeny is sure something will happen and the marriage will be over and his mom will be on to the next person and he’ll have to move yet again.
He flops on his bed that’s way too big for one person and pulls out his phone. Asher texted him the private investigator’s information. Yevgeny grabs his laptop from under his pillow from when he fell asleep playing video games. He starts writing an email. He writes everything he can think of, his birthday, that he grew up on the southside, that his dad’s last name is Milkovich and there’s a high possibility he was or is in prison. Then he apologizes for not knowing anymore then that and shuts his computer and tries to push the idea of finding his real dad out of his mind.
Yevgeny zips up his baseball bat in its bag. Yevgney is the shortest on his team but the most powerful hitter. His high school is on track to make it to the Illinois state Championships and Yevgeny is very excited about that. He’s worked very hard, making the varsity team his freshman year and almost breaking the state record for most home runs last year, a record he hopes to break this year.
“Hey Babe Ruth,” a voice sings.
Yevgeny looks up and sees Serenity, his girlfriend of three months. It’s the longest relationship he’s had. A lot of people dismiss Serenity for being another vapid fake blond who is too consumed in their looks to be smart. But Yevgeny knows a rebel when he sees one. Serenity is always pushing the limits of the dress code to prove how stupid they are. Having nail polish not in the approved colors, wearing too much make-up, and she even got in trouble for wearing the wrong kind of socks. Yevgeny wishes he could be as brave as Serenity. She’s not afraid of speaking her mind and can handle herself when people, mainly adults, try to control her.
“Hey,” Yevgeny says as he kisses her. He grabs his bag in one hand and his girlfriend’s hand in the other and they head to her car. He puts his baseball gear in the back of Serenity’s Tesla and hops in the passenger’s seat.
“So, uh, Asher gave me this email for a PI,” Yevgeny tells her. Serenity quickly glances over at him as she navigates her way out of the parking lot.
“What you need a PI for?” She asks.
“Um, I’m trying to find my dad,” Yevgeny says.
“Really?” Serenity confirms with excitement. “That sounds so fun! Do we have to meet this private I in some seedy office building? Oh, I have the perfect outfit, real 1930s femme fatale vibes.”
“No, it’s all through email,” Yevgeny laughs.
“Oh, that’s less fun.”
“They’re asking for two thousand dollars though,” Yevgney bites his lower lip. A habit his mother tries to break him of.
“So? Just ask your mom,” Serenity tells him.
“My mom is not like your parents,” Yevgeny explains. “She doesn’t just give money when I ask. She gets all fucking KGB and integrates me. Says I have to respect money and can’t spend it on dumb shit.”
“She doesn’t know you’re looking for your dad?”
“Definitely not, she doesn't want me to know who he is,” Yevgeny looks out the window. Looking at all the giant houses in their neighborhood. He wonders what family secrets are contained inside those fortresses.
“This is sounding fun again. You’re doing this behind your mom’s back?”
“I have to, she won’t tell me a damn thing about him. I don’t even know his first name.”
“You think it’s something cool like yours?”
“You think my name is cool?” Yevgeny asks. He’s grown up with most teachers not knowing how to pronounce it and people trying to give him weird nicknames to avoid saying it. Howie has taken to calling him Sport. His mom is lucky that her name can be Americanized to Lana. His friends call him Yev, but he doesn’t know if anyone else with that name and he thinks it’s very harsh sounding.
“Yeah, it’s exotic, sexy even,” Yevgeny rolls his eyes at Serenity’s flirting.
“Your name is a lot better,” Yevgeny says honestly.
“My name? It’s not a name. It’s a fucking word.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty.”
Serenity pulls into Yevgeny’s driveway. They enter the house and go to the kitchen. Yevgeny is always starving after baseball practice.They walk in and find Asher sitting at the table, eating leftovers that Svetlana had prepared for him.
“Hey man,” Yevgeny greets his friend. “Whatcha ya doing here?”
“Dude, I need updates on the whole situation,” Asher says with a mouthful of beef stroganoff.
“What situation?” Svetlana asks, concern covering her face.
“Nothing, it’s something for school,” Yevgeny says glaring at his friend.
“School? Something wrong?” Svetlana asks.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yevgeny tells his mom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“No, no,” his mom waves his excuse away with her hand. “Come sit and eat and tell me what is wrong with school.”
Yevgeny could kill Asher.
“It’s just a tough school assignment Mrs. Jacobs,” Serenity tries to assure Svetlana. Yevgeny inwardly groans at the mention of his mom’s new married name. “We’ll just head to Yev’s room and work on it.”
“You can sit here,” Svetlana gestures to the table Asher is sitting at. “I can help.”
“Uh, it’s for English,” Yevgeny quickly lies. “Don’t know how much you can help.”
“What? Am I not speaking English?” Svetlana challenges.
“It’s AP English, so I think this is beyond your abilities,” Yevgeny sees the hurt on his mother’s face. He didn’t mean for it to come out so cruel.
“Oh, at least eat before you study, yes?”
“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” Yevgeny doesn’t know why he’s still lying. He is starving but he really wants to stop his mom from asking questions. He can see that his attitude is hurting his mom but he has to ignore that.
“Thanks for the strog Mrs.J,” Asher says, getting up to follow Yevgeny and Serenity up stairs.
Yevgeny takes a seat at his gaming chair, Serenity plops herself on the bed and Asher moves one of the many moving boxes to take the bean bag chair on the floor. It’s a conference of friends, a trusted circle that can speak openly about everything.
“Way to keep it cool Ash,” Yevgeny scolds his friend. “Almost blew the fucking secret.”
“Yeah yeah, so did you hear back from the investigator?” Asher says, dismissing Yevgeny’s anger.
“The PI is asking for two thousand dollars,” Serenity informs.
“Cool, just steal your step dad’s credit card,” Asher responds like that was the obvious thing to do.
“My mom checks the bank statements online every night,” Yevgeny says. “She doesn’t mess around about money.”
“Do you have any gift cards?” Serenity asks. “She can’t track those.”
“No, I used the ones I got for my birthday on my new headphones,” Yevgeny says with disappointment. “Besides I didn’t get two thousand dollars worth of gift cards.”
“How about cash? How much cash do you got?” Asher asks.
“What? Am I a grandma? I don’t carry cash,” Yevgeny says.
“I got a couple hundred in my wallet,” Serenity offers. “My dad makes me carry it around for emergencies.”
“I’m not gonna take your money,” Yevgeny says. “This is my shit I got to figure out.”
“Too bad, I’m giving it to you anyways.” Serenity places the money on his bedside table and gives him a wink. Yevgeny blushes at the gesture.
“You could always get a job,” Asher offers. “I’m sure Howie would let you intern in his office or something.”
“I don’t want to work for Howie. I would rather kill myself.”
Yevgeny swivels in his chair. It seems as soon as he makes traction with his quest, life bites him in the ass. It appears that the universe doesn't want him to know who his dad is. Yevgeny bites his lower lip. If he gets a part time job that would have to be scheduled around his baseball and it only would pay minimum wage, it would take forever to raise the money.
“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Yevgeny states, scratching his left eyebrow. “I mean, do I really need to waste money on a PI?”
“If you want someone to get your birth certificate and track down your dad, then yes?” Asher says with confusion.
“Yeah, but just because my mom keeps my family a secret from me doesn’t mean I'm a secret from them,” Yevgeny points out.
“Huh?” both his friends stare at him with puzzled looks.
“Look, I know I’m from the southside and there’s Milkoviches all over Chicago. If I go down there and ask around I’m sure someone would know my dad, right?”
“This plan gets more fun by the minute,” Serenity smiles.
Yevgeny stares out the window, a bird is sitting up on a telephone wire. It looks lonely, Yevgeny thinks, being up there without a flock. It's hard to be attentive to Ms. Henry’s lecture on the Black Plague and it’s not because she sounds like she’s snoring when she talks. Yevgeny”s mind has been solely focused on going across to the other side of the river all week. He has a list of businesses in his phone that seem to be owned by Milkoviches. The plan is to show up and start asking if anyone knows about a Milkovich being married to his mom and having a kid sixteen years ago. Someone is going to have to know something. His dad could even work at one of these family owned businesses.
“Mr. Milkovich?” Yevgney’s name pulls his attention out of his daydream.
“Uh,” Yevgeny weighs the odds of Ms. Henry asking him a yes or no question and then from there it’s just a 50/50 chance of getting the right answer. “No.”
“No? What animals brought the black plague to Europe is no?” Mr. Henry says to the muffled giggles of Yevgeny’s classmates.
“Shit,” Yevgeny says a little too loudly.
“Mr. Milkovich, this school has a strict policy on improper language.”
“Sorry Ms. Henry,” Yevgeny apologizes.
“You can write me your apology in detention,” Ms. Henry responds.
Yevgeny’s friends waited for him outside the school. They have already changed into their street clothes so as to not announce to the southside that they attend a richey private school on the northside.
“I can’t believe Ms. Henry gave you detention for not answering a question right,” Asher says as Yevgeny approaches them. “If that was the bar I would be in detention a hell of a lot more.”
“Ms. Henry is just a straight up bitch,” Serenity says. “She takes the student handbook way too seriously.”
Serenity heads towards her Tesla.
“We should take the L,” Yevgeny says, stopping his friends in their tracks.
“Why the fuck would we do that?” Serenity asks.
“Unless you want to be carjacked or your tires slashed, I suggest we take the train,” Yevgeny points out. His friends reluctantly obey.
The closer the train gets to the southside the more and more Yevgeny realizes that they still stand out in their weekend clothes. He feels Serenity step closer to him and he puts a protective arm around her. He looks out the window and sees the landscape of Chicago change. The tall skyscrapers of the city become houses with broken down cars in the front yard.
“Do you remember when you lived down here?” Serenity asks.
“Not really, I was really little,” Yevgeny tries to remember. “I remember being around a lot of people, but I don’t remember who they are.”
“Your dad’s family?”
“Maybe, I do remember leaving and being very upset. I think I had friends that I was scared of not seeing again. There were two girls I was always playing with.”
“What were their names?”
“I wish I remember.”
“Hey lovebirds,” Asher interrupts. “This is our stop.”
They get off and walk down the stairs to the street. The have to side step pass a sleeping bum and crossed the street so they could get their bearings. They stand in front of a diner, Patsy’s Pies.
“Where to first boss?” Asher asks Yevgeny.
“Uh, I think we should check out Ronnie’s Roofing,” Yevgeny says looking at his list on his phone. “It’s not too far.”
The trio head down the street following the directions on Yevgeny’s phone. They come to a small strip mall that had a donut shop, a coin laundry and an office for Ronnie’s Roofing. They enter the office, there’s a beat up couch with someone taking a nap and a small desk with another person watching something loudly on their phone.
“Hi,’ Yevgeny says to no one in particular. He imagined an office of a roofing company would have samples of tiles and pamphlets of previous works to go over with potential customers. Instead this room is virtually empty.
“Pull around back for drop offs,” The guy on the phone says without looking away from his screen.
“We’re not here for a drop off,” Yevgeny says. What could people be dropping off at a roofer’s?
The phone guy looked up.
“What the fuck you kids want?” he asks
“Ah, I was hoping to speak to Ronnie Milkovich?” Yevgeny asks, hopefully not sounding as nervous as he feels.
“Ronnie is locked up, you can speak to him in four to six months,” was the simple reply.
“Oh,” Yevgeny looks at his friends who just shrug their shoulders. “Are you a Milkovich?”
“Who’s asking?” The phone guy cautiously asks.
“Um, my name is Yevgeny Milkovich and I’m trying to find my dad?”
“No shit? How old are you?” The phone guy pauses his video.
“Sixteen.”
“Fuck, has it been that long?” They’re was a pause and the phone guy continues. “Uncle Ronnie ain't your daddy.”
“You know who I am?” Yevgeny asks with hope.
“I know you shouldn’t be snooping around the southside asking for Milkoviches,” the phone guy. “Now fuck off before I stop beining so nice.” The phone guy pulls open a drawer in his desk and pulls out a gun, sending Yevgeny and his friends running out the door.
“What the fuck?” Asher shouts as they catch their breath a few blocks away from the obviously not a roofing business office. “Is your dad part of the mob?”
“How the fuck should I know that?” Yevgeny defends.
“No wonder when you google Milkoviches in CHicago it turns out they are all in prison. That was shady as fuck,” Asher says.
“Did you see some of those tattoos?” Serenity asked. “Yev, I think your family are white supremacists.”
“I don’t see my mom marrying someone from that family,” Yevgeny says. “Come on let’s try the painters next.”
“You seriously want to keep going?” Asher asks.
“Yeah, he seemed to know who I was. We just have to find the right guy to talk to,” Yevgeny says.
“I should have had my dad update my will,” Asher mumbles as he follows Yevgeny.
Every business they visit turns out similar. Whatever company is on the sign outfront doesn’t appear to be what they do on the inside. As they continue the tattooed guys with guns tend to be prepared for his visit. They threaten him and tell him to stop asking questions. Yevgeny thinks Asher is right his dad’s family appears to be part of a criminal organization. But more heartbreaking is that his dad doesn’t seem to want anything to do with him.
“Let’s just go home Yev, it’s getting late,” Serenity says.
“I have one last place,” Yevgeny says, still trying to hold onto any hope. He just needs a name. If he can leave with a name then this whole day wouldn’t be a waste.
“Dude, this place is getting scarier as the sun is going down,” Asher points out.
“Come on you babies,” Yevgeny teases. For some reason the southside, despite all the horror stories, is not freaking him out. Maybe this place is in his blood. “I tracked down this one Milkovich on socials, Sandy, who bartends at this place.”
“We can’t go into a bar Yevgeny, we’re only sixteen,” Serenity points out.
“I don’t think the southside cares about that,” Yevgeny says.
Yevgeny was right. They were able to walk right into the bar with no questions asked. They made their way to the bar.
“Hey,” Yevgeny greets, getting the attention of the dark messy haired woman pouring the drinks.
“Shit,” she says as she looks up. “Yevgeny I presume?”
“Yeah, you know who I am?” Yevgeny asks. “Are you Sandy?”
“Follow me,” Sandy nods her head towards a back door and the trio follows them.
They follow her through the back and out into an alley. Sandy offers the teenagers a cigarette and the boys willingly take one and Serenity politely declines which in a way that made Sandy laugh.
“We guys really got the family group chat blowing up,” Sandy says as she lights her own cigarette. “It hasn’t been this active since my Uncle Terry died.”
“Oh,” was all Yevgeny could think to say.
“I’m honored that you came to visit me,” Sandy says, blowing smoke from her cigarette.
“So are you going to be the first person to tell us something about Yev’s dad?” Asher asks.
“Nope,” Sandy says. “Gonna tell you the same fucking thing you’ve been hearing all afternoon, you need to stop asking around and go back to you fucking northside palace. Asking around for a Milkovich is a good way to get shot.”
“Does Yevgeny’s dad know he’s looking for him?” Serenity asks. “I mean if word has gotten to you I assume he must know?”
“Sure does,” Sandy says.
“Can I speak to him?” Yevgeny asks carefully.
“Nope,” Sandy simply says.
“Why the fuck not?” Yevgeny yells in frustration.
“He doesn’t want to see you,” Sandy says. “He wants you to leave the southside.”
Yevgeny’s heart breaks. His dad really wants nothing to do with him.
“You really shouldn't be here,” Sandy says. “If you mom is still a bitch like I remember she’s proberbly freaking the fuck out.”
“Come on Yev,” Serenity pulls on his arm. “It’s getting late. Let’s just go home.”
“Please, for fuck sakes I can’t leave here with nothing,” Yevgeny begs. “Yo have to tell me something, like what’s his name?”
“Go home,” Sandy instructs as she flicks her cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with her boot. She turns to head back into the bar but she pauses. She turns her head and gives a little smile. “If you dyed your hair black and got some knuckle tattoos you would look exactly like him when he was your age. It’s like the fucking Twilight Zone.”
Yevgeny opens the front door to his house. Serenity just dropped him off, he was too emotionally drained to give her a proper goodbye. He just half hartley waved as he got out of the car. He wanted to go straight to bed but before that he went to grab one of his mom’s bottles of vodka.
He walked through the house, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
“Yevgeny,” he hears his mom call as he passes the study.
Shit, had texted her earlier to say he was doing homework with Asher all afternoon. How could she suspect something? Yevgeny takes a deep breath and pivots into the study. He sees his mom and Howie on the couch. Howie has a hand on her knee.
“Hey mom,” Yevgeny greets as he slowly steps into the room.
Howie gives Svetlana’s knee a squeeze and stands up. Before he heads out the room he pats Yevgeny’s shoulder and tells him to, “hang in there Sport.”
Yevgeny rolls his eyes at the nickname.
His mom calls him over to the couch in Russian. He can see the anger firing through her eyes like she was Cyclops from the X-men. She really must have some KGB connections if she knew where he was all afternoon.
“Now,” she commends him.
Yevgeny feels so small. He just found out that his dad doesn’t want to meet him and now his mom, the only parent in his life, is mad at him. He might as well be an orphan.
He sits next to her but avoids making eye contact.
“You made a stupid teenage choice today,” she tells him. “You are not a stupid teenage boy. Why would you put yourself in danger by going to southside?”
“It’s not that bad,” Yevgeny defends. “We used to live there, remember?”
“Yes, that’s how I know you could have been murdered.”
“How did you know I was down there?” Yevgeny asks.
“I have my ways. Now tell me why you went down there.”
“Serenity saw a cutesy coffee shop on Tik Tok that she wanted to try.”
“Bullshit,” Svetlana challenges. It catches Yevgeny off guard.
“It’s true.”
“Do not lie, I know the truth.”
“Then why are you asking me?” Yevgeny is getting frustrated. If his mom is going to ground him she should just do it. This talk is torture and he just wants crawl in his bed and be by himself. “If you know everything then why ask me?”
“I want you to tell me truth.”
“Just let me go to my room. That’s where this is going to end, isn't it?”
“If you have questions you come to me. You do not go to southside where you can get hurt.”
“I’ve tried!” Yevgeny gets up from the couch and puts some distance between him and his mother. “I’ve asked you about my dad so many times and you never answer any of them. I don’t even know his fucking name!”
Svetlana gets up too. Yevgeny’s pulse is racing, they’ve never fought like this before.
“I work hard so you live a good -”
“Work?” Yevgeny interrupts her. “What work? All you do is marry the next rich person like some kind of high end prostitute.”
Yevgeny doesn’t know why he said that. The bitchy women in the neighborhood may talk about his mother like that but Yevgeny doesn’t feel that way. He loves his mom. He hates that they’re fighting like this. He sees the betrayal in her eyes but his stupid teenage pride won’t let him take back the words.
His mom opens her mouth for a rebuttal but nothing comes out. Yevgeny thinks he might have broken her. She leaves without a word and Yevgeny is left alone in the study. He doesn’t know what to do. He just stands there for a minute, possibly waiting for his mom to return to yell at him some more. When it’s clear that he’s now by himself and slowly makes his way to his room.
He kicks over a moving box causing old childhood toys to tumble out and lets out a yell and falls to his bed. This is probably the worst day of his fucking life. He finds out his dad wants nothing to do with him and now his mom is angry with him.
Yevgeny couldn’t fall asleep. The fight with his mom kept replaying over and over in his mind. He finally fell asleep around 5 in the morning causing him to sleep pass by alarm. He was later for baseball practice and his coach made him do laps around the field as punishment. The rest of practice was awful. He couldn’t hit a single ball or catch the easiest of throws. His mind kept drifting to his parents and how they both hate him.
After practice he headed to the parking lot to wait for his uber but was surprised to find Howie waiting for him.
“Hey Sport!” Howie cheerfully greets.
“That’s not my fucking name,” Yevgeny says when getting in the front passenger’s seat.
“Oh sorry,” Howie apologizes. “That’s what my old man called me so I -”
“You ain’t my fucking dad either,” Yevgeny tells him. “I don’t have a dad.”
There’s an awkward tension between the two of them. Yevgeny thinks about opening the car door and just letting his body roll out onto the street. He doesn’t want to be in this stupid car.
“I know Yevgeny,” Howie says gently and to Yevgeny’s surprise he says his name correctly. “And I know that I don’t know what the hell you’re going through. But if you need someone to talk to, I'm here ok? I might not know what to say but I’m a damn good listener. Got perfect hearing and everything.”
“Whatever,” is all Yevgeny can think of to respond.
“I talked to your mom,” Howie says. “I think she overreacted. I’m on your side, kid.”
Why is Howie being so nice to him? Yevgeny doesn’t recall ever having a conversation with just the two of them. He tries to think of how this could possibly be a trap.
“You have every right to know who your dad is. Even if it’s hard to hear.”
“Do you know who my dad is?” Yevgeny asks.
“No,” Howie sighs. “I don’t know what happened between your parents but your mom doesn’t like talking about her life before she moved to the northside. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to know.”
Yevgeny looks out the car window. Clouds are scattered throughout the sky. There’s a bunch clustered together and as the wind blows they start to morph into one. But there’s one cloud going off in a different direction. Yevgeny wonders how that could happen and if the other clouds know that it’s missing.