Honestly, Sasha forgot to be anxious until the Sears Tower appeared. Blanche had completely distracted him from those nerves with all her questions and ridiculously awful singing. She had insisted on driving the entire time and, surprisingly, even that had put him at ease. Being with her often had the amnesic effect of making him forget to be worried about anything at all.
As they made their way through Irving Park, that effect started to wear off and Sasha’s heart began racing. They slowly made their way through the streets lined with trees, all waiting on their leaves to return. Blanche opened her window to feel the chilly 43 degree air and bright Chicago sun on her face. She still wasn’t over the novelty of Midwest seasons.
“Sasha? Sash?”
Sasha stared blankly out the window.
“Hey Sash! Where should I park? The navigation says it’s on the next block.”
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, let’s find parking on the street up here.”
“Everything ok?” she asked with a smidge of concern.
“Yeah, why?”
“I said your name like ten times before you responded. You were in another world.”
“Sorry. Let’s park right there behind that white car.”
She parked the car and they headed to the back to grab their bags. Sasha threw his backpack on. “I’ve got this,” he whispered to her as he took her black roller bag out of her hand and kissed her neck.
Blanche double checked the car was locked (Sasha insisted) and they walked across the sidewalk and up to a classic four-story brick building. Sasha buzzed “Unit 3 — Ilić” and the building responded with a long buzz back as the towering wooden door in front of them clicked open.
They stepped inside and from the top of the staircase heard a woman hollering, “Sine moj! Dragi Sasha! Dragi Sasha! Sine moj!"
“Mama! Please! We are coming up, don’t come down here!” he hollered right back.
“Welcome home,” Sasha gave Blanche a soft smile and led the way as they briskly climbed the stairs to the top floor. No amount of running could ever prepare the lungs for those steps.
Before they could even step off the stairs, Sasha disappeared into a flurry of hugs and kisses. His mom held him tightly, kissing all over his face as she repeated “dragi Sasha!” Blanche stood paralyzed, trying to imagine what that would be like. Her mother had taken a more hands-off approach to motherhood — wouldn’t want to chip a nail. Raised by a slew of nannies and au pairs with the occasional (and welcomed) guest appearance by her father, her mother had always been more focused on her three C’s: charities, church, and cotillion. Blanche felt her chest tighten and her eyes prickle as she watched tears flow down Sasha’s mother’s cheeks.
“Ok Mama! Ok!” His mother reluctantly let go and his father embraced him strongly with a gentle kiss on the top of Sasha’s head and then on his shoulder. If you thought Sasha was tall, well, his dad managed to eclipse him. “Tata,” was all Sasha said as they held tight in that embrace.
Finally, Sasha turned to face Blanche. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the world with a stoicism in his eyes that she hadn’t yet seen. “Mama, Tata… this is my girlfriend, Blanche Belle.”
Girlfriend, she noted.
“Zdravo,” Blanche attempted her Serbian hello just as Sasha had taught her during the first hour of their roadtrip, bowing slightly. Why the FUCK did I just bow, she tensed. “It’s wonderful to meet you Mrs. Ilić, Dr. Ilić.” No bow this time.
Mrs. Ilić stepped toward her. “Zdravo, Blanche.” She placed one hand on each of Blanche’s shoulders and leaned in for two measured cheek kisses. “We love the Golden Girls. You may call me Vinka.” Her raven hair and piercing green eyes perfectly matching Sasha.
“Thank you so much for having me to your home, Vinka.”
Sasha’s father stepped forward, “Ćao Blanche.” His light brown almond shaped eyes holding her gaze while both of his hands clasped one of hers. There was such a warmth to him. He leaned forward for the same cheek kisses. “Welcome to our home. Please call me Milan. No need for those formalities.”
“Come in, come in,” Vinka urged. “I will make coffee.”
Milan insistently took the backpack off of Sasha’s back and led the way into their condo. It was modest and clean, with plenty of light pouring through the windows. On the Eastern walls hung beautifully hand-painted icons of various saints. On the other walls, framed photographs of what she assumed were Sasha’s family members around the table and at the seaside. They made their way to the kitchen where she recognized the formality of a bright red woven table cloth covered in the most ornate cream lace doily Blanche had ever seen. Two lavish silver candleholders stood in the center of the table along with a bowl of green apples.
After they took turns using the bathroom and Sasha had tucked their bags away, they sat down for coffee. It’s never too late for coffee, Sasha had informed her before they arrived.
Vinka boiled water and grounds on the stove before pouring the Turkish coffee into tiny cups with small pink roses painted on the sides. They told stories of women in the old country who could read your coffee grounds to see into your future. Each of them had personal accounts that seemingly proved this mystery to be sincere. From a move to America to becoming a physician to having two sons…
“Wait, Sasha, you have a brother?” Blanche interrupted.
Everyone went silent. It took her a moment to realize she may have asked a question that nobody wanted to answer.
“I do. An older brother. Luka.”
Milan interjected, “yes, we have two sons. But, we haven’t seen our oldest son Luka in many many years. He left when Sasha was only thirteen and we haven’t spoken with him since then.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize,” she panicked.
Vinka mumbled “molim te bože” under her breath before quietly retreating to her bedroom as Blanche, with clammy hands, silently sipped her coffee beside the two present Ilić men.