#this is an Ivan Delavriskov hate post

[noa-de-cajou]

The following texts references sexism, homophobia and transphobia.

Domhildr belongs to @soupedepates

Amandine belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

I feel like the lobby in this house is getting bigger and bigger with each and every one of my visits.

Maybe it’s just me that feels smaller, despite the heels, despite my situation, despite the fact that I’m grown now.

“Auntie Leoooo!”

Well, here come three of the few good things about Christmas. I didn't even have the time to get my coat off before getting jumped by my two nephews and my niece. I barely see them at all since they moved to Belgium. The laugh escaping me is sincere.

“Nice try, kiddos, but you're not getting the gifts before dessert!”

Danil, the oldest, puffs his cheeks.

“No fun.”

“I don’t care about the gifts! I just want a hug from auntie,” Nina whines.

Meanwhile, Saveliy keeps holding out his arms to ask for uppies, which is kind of hard with his siblings glued to my leg and my eight-centimeters heels.

“Kids, let your aunt breathe, will you?”

My brother-in-law arrives to get Danil and Nina off me, and takes his youngest into his arms before smiling politely.

“Hello, Leonova. Sorry about this, they've been all giddy since this morning.”

“Good evening, Zachary. It’s no problem. Is my sister around?”

Zachary is nice enough, compared to some other members of this family. We just don’t have much in common is all. If I'm completely honest, he’s a little bland, but as long as he makes my sister happy…

“Yes, she's in the dining hall with your brother. They've been waiting for you too.”

I thank him with a nod and head over to the dining room. Dear god, the Christmas tree is even taller than last year. Imagining Father climbing on a ladder to decorate it is pretty comical, even if he surely didn’t do it himself. But I'm not really interested in trees. No, what matters is my siblings, chatting together near the window, and their faces lighting up when they see me.

“Hi, Novushka!”

Misha’s looking a lot better than last time. Her hair has grown back to her shoulders, even if it’s thinner and curlier than before. When I hug her, I only feel a flat torso against mine. It’s a little strange, but at least she seems alright. And she’s told me the chemo worked. That's all that matters.

“Heyy, Misha, I want a hug from Nova too!”

Misha laughs and lets Denevan come embrace me. My littlest brother is twenty-four now, and he sure looks smart in his brand new suit and tie. It’s weird to see him all grown-up when I practically raised him. Fresh out of business school just like his sister and already well-off. Wonder who he gets that from. He lets go of me, looks around confusedly.

“Kal isn't coming this year either?”

…

“Well? Have you changed your mind?”

Kalerich glances at me and shrugs.

“You know they don't want me around anymore. I don’t see why this year is any different.”

Yeah. I know. Otherwise you wouldn't have taken refuge at my place. Maybe a part of me likes to rub it in, the way you fell from grace, the way you went from the golden heir to a college dropout no one believes in anymore, the way I'm the most successful out of both of us now.

And the other…

“No. I'm sorry, Deni.”

“You know it’s complicated between him and Father, Vanya,” Misha adds hastily.

Denevan makes a face. He doesn't know, actually. He just thinks Kalerich and Father had an argument over who would inherit the company, which isn’t untrue. But he doesn't know about the rest and I think that's for the better.

“Well, I'm glad to see you three are still as chummy as ever! Now, let us all sit down and catch up, alright?”

Ha. Speaking of the Devil, here he comes with his most faithful priestess. My father and stepmother. Ivan and Honora Delavriskov.

And at his command, we all sit down, because the lambs don't resist when the shepherd guides them home, now do they?

So here we are. My dad, sat at the far end of the table. Honora to his right, Denevan to his left. Misha sits between her mother and husband, I sit next to my brother and my niece. My nephews face each other at the other end.

No matter what I do or how much I work my ass off, I'm still seated next to the kids. They make sure I know my place even though I've carved one for myself.

It doesn't matter. It’s fine. It’s only one evening. I start eating with the others, chatting with my brother, listening patiently to Nina when she tries to ask me for a food she doesn't know the name of. I talk like I'm a convict and the conversations are my last cigarette as I await for the moment of my public execution. I’m not disappointed.

“Leonova, why is your hair cut so short every time I see you?”

Because everyone says it suits me. Everyone except Honora, apparently. But I know the lengths I have to go to get even one compliment from her. They're hardly worth it. She doesn’t let me reply, anyway.

“If you keep going like that, we'll soon see your scalp,” she continues. “And your make-up makes you look like a stolen car. No man is ever going to be interested in you with this kind of look.”

Well her hair will fall off sooner than mine with all the dye she puts on her roots. And her ensemble is tacky at best, horrid at worst.

And I don't want a man to be interested in me. Or rather, I don't give a flying shit.

“Your mother has a point, Leonova.”

She isn’t my mother. She's never been. I don't care if I'm ungrateful, because she was oh so kind to take in her husband’s late mistress’ three children that he had behind her back.

My mother, my real mother, died almost twenty years ago because no one fucking cared. Not my father, not the doctors, not her family, no one.

But I don't say it.

I’m a good daughter. Good daughters smile and let their father speak.

“How old are you already?”

“I'll be turning thirty this february, Father.”

But it's not like you care enough to remember my birthday.

“Thirty! Thirty, and you’re still unmarried.”

Yeah.

Because you forced me to cut off the only person I've ever wanted to marry.

I still remember her eyes. Full of hurt. A cold hurt. But the worse was how disappointed she seemed. Disappointed in me.

I could have told her. That it was to protect her. But I didn't.

Keep calm. Breathe. Don’t let him get to you.

“I'd rather focus on my career for now.”

He bursts out laughing. No one else laughs but no one else comes to my defense either.

“Your career? Look at your sister! She can juggle her work, children and marriage just fine.”

“Dad, it’s different,” Misha tries. “I’m a dentist, Leo has a lot more responsibilities than–”

“What do you even do that takes up so much of your time?” Honora cuts her off, her eyes fixed on me.

I stab my turkey with my fork. Sauce splatters to the sides of my plate.

“I’m a marketing manager. I thought I already told you.”

“Marketing manager? I was already marketing director at your age,” my father scoffs.

Yeah. Because you inherited your father’s company, just the way Denevan will inherit yours. Meanwhile I had to make my way in a luxury company all on my own, while trying to handle my superior that wants me under his desk before promoting me and scares all the women in my team because he gets too handsy.

But a cheating, lying asshole like you wouldn’t understand that, now would he?

Because we’re nothing without you and your goddamn money. But I make my own, now. I don't need this. I don't need you.

Kalerich’s dubious stare comes back to my mind.

Why do you still go?

“It’s been going well so fa–”

“But you're still single.”

I am not.

I have a girlfriend. Her name is Ether. She wants to be a gynaecologist. She’s hard-working, kind, too kind, laughs loudly, swears too much, forgives too easily, never sleeps enough, likes her coffee with a lot of sugar, has the most beautiful smile I've seen and I've been treating her like garbage. But I'm in love with her. I'm in love with her. Even if I know she deserves better, I keep coming back to her.

But I don’t say it.

There’s a crucifix on the far wall and I feel like it’s looking right at me.

I smile for the imaginary camera.

“That's right.”

My father sighs in disappointment.

Disappointment. Again.

Disappointment in her eyes when I told her it was over.

Disappointment in Domhildr’s mouth when I told her I had a girlfriend.

Disappointment in Ether’s words when she learned about the cheating.

Disappointment on Denevan’s face when I told him his brother wouldn’t be here.

Disappointment, disappointment, disappointment, you're a fucking disappointment–

“You're lucky I've started looking through potential fiancés for you.”

… What?

“I should have done this much earlier, to be honest. I thought you’d manage to find someone decent, but it looks like I've overestimated you.”

My blood runs cold. My stomach is nothing but a mess of knots all tightening simultaneously.

Denevan’s nervous eyes dart between me and our father. Misha looks like she's frozen in her seat. Zachary pretends to be busy helping Saveliy cut his meat.

I’m on my own.

My tongue feels like it’s made of lead.

“You… You can't just–”

“Oh, but I can. That's the better option for everyone.”

“Your father's right,” Honora agrees. “I mean, I don’t want to speak ill of your tastes, Leonova, but the man you were with for some time…”

She wasn’t a man. She wasn't happy as a man.

That's why she couldn't have been happy with me or this family either.

Not when Father chuckles with so much disdain.

“Right, him. He turned out to be quite… well, his whole delirium about being a woman… Who could have thought? Either way, it wasn’t normal. I’m glad you had enough sense to break up with him. Those people are sick and we’re not doctors.”

“Those people”. I dated one of “those people”. Goddammit, I loved her. I probably still do.

How dare he? How dare he talk about her like she's sick when Misha, his eldest daughter, was actually sick with something she could have not recovered from?

Who am I kidding. Legitimate or not, it doesn't matter. We’re still daughters and not sons.

“What was his name again? Ar–”

Her name was Amandine.

Stop. Stop talking about her like that. Stop, stop, stop.

I stuff some meat into my mouth and Honora looks at me disapprovingly.

“Don't look at us like that, Leonova. Do you have any idea how you made us look to our acquaintances and business partners? How many justifications we had to come up with for you? I mean, everyone thought you were…”

Misha’s face turns sour.

“Mom. That’s enough.”

“No,” I interrupt. My voice sounds like dry ice. “They thought I was… what?”

“You know what I mean!” Honora exclaims.

“No, I don't. They thought I was what?”

“A homosexual.”

The room goes dead silent. My stepmother’s eyes widen.

“Ivan!”

“What? There's no point in sugarcoating it. And since Leonova isn’t like that, I don’t see why I should beat around the bush.”

Leonova isn’t like that.

“Auntie Leo? What's a homosessual?”

“Nina, be quiet and eat your food,” Zachary whispers furiously from the other side of the table.

I smile at my niece like I don't want the ground to open and swallow me whole along with this entire godforsaken household.

“You can ask your parents later, Ninoshka. Okay?”

She stares at me with her big blue eyes, but obeys and goes back to picking at her food. Six years-old are more perceptive than they look. But I can't let her see through the cracks. She'll realize their presence soon enough anyway.

“Leonova, you have to understand. Your father and I are just worried for you. That's why I'm not so sure about the short hair… People might get the wrong idea…”

I hate how sincerely worried Honora sounds. How she genuinely thinks she’s doing this for my own good. She treats me like I'm her real daughter, always has.

That's probably the worst thing she could have done.

But I don't say it.

I just smile. I don't reassure her. I’m not sure I'll be able to contain the venom in my voice if I try to.

“Well, no harm in looking for fiancés for you, then?” my father asks with a smile.

“No. Not at all.”

The words are gravel in my mouth.

“Good. At least there’s still hope for you. We wouldn't want you to end up like your disappointment of a brother, now would we?”

My siblings stare at their plate. Danil frowns. Kalerich has always been his favorite uncle. But Zachary’s eyes dissuade him from trying anything.

Disappointment.

I feel nauseous.

“Let's resume eating, then,” Honora exclaims joyfully. “Anyone want seconds?”

Saveliy raises his hand enthusiastically, Danil mumbles that he’d like that. Misha looks like she lost her appetite. Denevan passes me the wine with the most discomfited expression I've ever seen on him. Bless his heart.

I pour myself drink after drink, barely touch my dessert, only taking a bite out of Nina’s because she offered me to. By the time the kids open their gifts, I'm not sober at all anymore. There’s a bunch of wrapped packages with my name under the tree and the mere thought of opening them in front of everyone makes me want to puke.

“I’m going out for a smoke.”

I don’t ask for anyone to join me. My father and Honora only give me disapproving glances, Misha doesn’t smoke anymore, Zachary will be too uncomfortable to join me and Denevan has never touched a cigarette in his life. No one says a word when I walk out the room, no one says anything about how wobbly I am on my heels.

Everything in this house is too big. It makes me feel like I'm twelve again.

I go out to the porch and take a huge whiff of cold air before lighting up my cig. I check out my phone. There’s one text. From Domhildr, of all people.

Merry Chrysler! (hoping you haven't broken up with your girlfriend again cuz right now my legs are closed)

The little fucker. At least the message makes me snort. I contemplate calling her, not for sex of anything, just to chat. She's from a muslim family, does she even celebrate at all? Well. She’s probably busy anyways, with her roommate or her friends or whatever. And she might get the wrong idea. We’re not friends, after all. I don’t have friends.

I start scrolling mindlessly through my contacts. Kalerich hasn't texted me. He’s probably watching a series or out to town to kill time. Spending Christmas alone. There’s a pang of guilt in my chest but I barely feel it under all the alcohol and resentment.

A part of me likes to rub it in.

And the other

Keeps being jealous of you because at least now you have no expectations to meet anymore. Yet you're still someone. A parasitic, grim, lazy sack of shit, but you're someone without them. I’d be no one without them. I’d be nothing.

Or I'd just be Leonova and there’s nothing worse to be than myself.

I scroll past.

Amandine is still registered in favorites and in speed dial, even after all these years. My thumb hovers above the calling button. I haven’t tried texting her in a long, long time. Heard from a few rumors that she got into the police. Wrote seven drafts to congratulate her, sent none. Too afraid of the possibility that maybe, maybe she blocked me and my words will remain stuck in my phone. But god I want to call her. I want to hear her voice. I miss her.

But she’s better off without me.

So I scroll past again.

Only person left is Ether. She’s at her parents right now, with her sister. Her dad is an egyptian muslim, but her mom is greek and likes christmas, so they celebrate anyways. And I know they're a happy family. I know she loves her parents and her parents love her just as much.

It’s so unfair it makes me sick.

Why does she get that and I don't?

She invited Khaliun to come, too. Khaliun who’s infinitely better than me in every way and a much better girlfriend. I’ve met her and I could already tell this much. Does Ether keep me around just so she can feel better about herself for adopting a rabid dog that was about to be put down? Am I here to make her other lovers feel better about themselves?

She told me to call her if things got too much. I told her there would be no need. Now I need her but I’d rather die than admit it.

So I call. With every intention of being a bitch, of blaming Ether unjustly for having such a great time when I don’t, of ruining my life for good so I can prove to myself I'm just as bad as I think I am.

It’s ringing.

Pick up.

Pick up.

Pick up the fucking phone–

“Yeeeessss hellooo?”

My anger is swept away in a second.

That’s not Ether’s voice.

“... Khaliun?”

“Leonova! Hi! Yeah, it’s me.”

That's her laugh, no mistake.

… What is she doing with Ether's phone?

“Where’s Ether?”

“Uuuuh, right now? Very drunk and very busy debating in arabic with her dad. Her phone was ringing in her bag and she told me you might call, so I thought I’d answer.”

Ether… told her I might call? Why?

“Is everything okay? You sound off.”

I want to scream at her. For stealing my girlfriend away from me. For getting all the good times. For being so good and nice and everything I'm not.

Instead, all that comes out is a sob.

“Aw, Leo. Christmas is a tough time for you, huh?”

…

Yeah. Yeah, it is.

I'm tired of pretending it’s not.

“Do you want me to get Ether?”

I shake my head, and realize a second later that she can’t hear that over the phone, but it seems like she understands anyways. I hear some shuffling sounds.

“Okay. Hold on, I'mma go somewhere more quiet. Stay on the line, alright?”

I do. My make-up runs down my cheeks. I hear shuffling on the other side of the line, the sound of a door closing.

“So, Leo, tell me. What’s the big sad about?”

The question is stupid. Yet it makes me sob harder.

I’m so pathetic, crying to a twenty-three years old girl I keep talking shit about behind her back.

But I'm tired. I'm so tired. I want to go home.

I just don't know where home is anymore.

I got the things I wanted, it's just not what I imagined

Making the bed - Olivia Rodrigo