Sasha (Chapter 5)

18 years ago

He'd lost track of how long he’d been laying there, starring into the darkness.

Blanche was staying at her own place so she could pack and actually get some sleep before they hit the road to Chicago the next morning.

Sasha was also supposed to be packed and getting some sleep. Neither had happened yet.

As the moments ticked by he became more agitated, more restless. Rolling to his side, hugging a pillow, one leg out of the comforter, completely kicking off the comforter — none of it worked.

What was I thinking? he wondered, as he tried to imagine Blanche meeting his parents.

It wasn’t that he’d never had girlfriends before. He was always dating someone in high school because that’s what it seemed he was supposed to do. It was part of his master plan to fly under the social radar of his classmates.

As the guys in his class started to notice who was hot, whisper how far they’d gone over the weekend, or call dibs on Homecoming dates… he knew he needed to fall in line.

The “getting a girlfriend” was never a problem for Sasha.

The girls in his class swarmed him after his swim meets — always making sure he knew they were there to see him in his suit, not to see him swim. They begged him for help with their math homework. They threw dagger eyes at each other over who would sit next to him at lunch.

Honestly, it was all monotonous for Sasha.

His strategy of blending in was simple: match up with whoever made it easiest on him — the chattiest, most eager one. The more she filled the space, the less work it was for him. First Emma, then Angie, finally Zahra. Oh and there was Charlotte for a brief bit, too.

They were all fine. More than fine, really (according to his friends). Only Sasha didn’t care about dating or hooking up. He definitely didn’t care about Homecoming.

After a few months of zoning out while they gossiped about their mom’s affair or read him their college application essays or labored over who would ride in their limo for prom… each one eventually caught on to his lack of interest and moved along.

If you’ve ever wondered, “How many times can you think about solving that physics problem while she’s shoving her tongue down your throat before she notices?” Sasha discovered it was actually more times than you’d think (but the value was not infinite).

Never once did he bring a girl home. But it wasn’t just Emma, Angie, Zahra, or Charlotte he purposefully kept away — he held everyone at Jones College Prep at arms length.

He sensed from the first day of school there that he was different. His classmates had an almost lazy ease about them. They joked about teachers, drank on weekends, and sometimes they even smoked weed before swim practice. Mysteriously, they all somehow did well anyway. Great grades, varsity sports, and casually mentioning future plans that included Ivy League college names.

Sasha couldn’t take that chance.

He decided the only way out was through, making a few friends on swim team — Jake, Francis, and Chris — and played the role of the wallflower. He learned quickly how to appear like he, also, couldn’t care less when those three were watching (while simultaneously caring the most when they looked away). If the group was hanging out, he was there. Otherwise, he made himself sparse.

His time was spent studying, bagging groceries, and going to the Orthodox church with his parents. Every Wednesday and Saturday night. Back again Sunday morning. While he could hardly understand a word of the services since they were almost entirely in Serbian, he couldn’t handle the look on his mom’s face when he missed it. So he never did.

Only a year before he was born, Sasha’s parents immigrated from Belgrade, Serbia to Chicago. Well, it was actually Yugoslavia, not Serbia, then. The stories they (especially Sasha’s dad) would tell about what it was like to grow up there? You’d never believe these wild tales to be true. They must have made it all up — a ruse for entertainment! That’s what Sasha and Luca always thought when their Tata would regale them with bedtime lore, anyway.

“There’s nowhere like America,” they’d promised their boys. And themselves. To their credit, they never faltered on their love for their new home. Though there was always a steady stream of Serbian radio humming in the background, a not so subtle hatred for President Clinton in the late 90’s, and a fierce commitment to fútbol (never soccer)… they always had one eye looking forward. From the decision to speak only English with their children, ensuring the best education they could for Sasha, and the doctrine of “hard work and education lead to opportunity,” it was understood.

From an early age, he appreciated how important it was to his parents, especially his father, that he work hard and get a great education.

Their home was humble, which meant cozy but also a place with no secrets. One night after he was supposed to be asleep, Sasha heard his dad arrive home from the hospital. Just off a 24-hour on call shift, the cabinet door creaked open as his dad took out the bottle of Slivo. A moment later two crystal clinks on the counter and a pour for each of the glasses.

When the children weren’t around, his parents spoke Serbian. Even in the mostly foreign-to-him language, he could hear his dad was upset. Sitting in the hallway outside his bedroom, he strained — trying his best to interpret their quiet conversation.

He deciphered that his dad had delivered four babies that evening. There was much he couldn’t understand after that, but finally he gathered that his father was ridiculed by another doctor for his accent — “tttt, tttt, tttt” his father had said, referring to his inability to pronounce the American “th.”

As he peered around the corning he saw his mother rubbing his father’s back as he wiped away tears from his eyes. Sasha, feeling guilty for spying on such an intimate moment, crept back into his bed.

The next morning at breakfast, there was a full hominy on the importance of a good education. “It’s the one thing nobody can take away from you,” his father pressed. On any other day, Sasha might have tuned him out. But on that morning, he gave his full attention.

Hard work. Education. Opportunity. He couldn’t let them down. He would show them that everything they sacrificed, everything they endured, it was all going to be worth it.

So all those kids at school pretending they were in a photoshoot for Seventeen Magazine? They would never understand. Even if maybe they could, he wouldn’t take the chance.

Sure, he had to put up with them every day but, Jake, Francis, and Chris? Candidly, they could be real dicks. Other than sports, Playstation, and getting blow jobs (so they claimed), their main hobby was finding the least creative and most idiotic ways to make fun of people. He needed to stay out of their line of fire so he could stay focused on what really mattered.

Plus, he couldn’t imagine what he’d say if one of them asked, “who is that? I didn’t know you had a brother!” when they saw the photos of Luka.

Not only had he never brought a friend home, but he had definitely never brought a girlfriend home, to meet his parents.

Since graduation, Sasha hadn’t spoken to a single person he’d gone to school with. He was fine if he never did again. He’d made it through with grades that got him a full ride to college and, most importantly, kept his parents safe from the rabid crew he’d hung out with through it all.

At some point, while he was laying in bed thinking how strange it felt to actually want someone new to meet his parents, he must have dozed off. The next thing he knew, his alarm was beeping him awake.

Ready or not, Spring break arrived.