“Believe it or not, Rockefeller, a guy can make a living even if he doesn’t have a degree telling him he deserves to,” I stated, blowing a plume of cigarette smoke in my brother’s direction. “Don’t forget who paid for that paper.”

“Me,” my dad interjected, guffawing as I gave him a death glare, “and you, of course Viktor.”

“I don’t need your lip service,” I said, truly feeling as though I didn’t. His acknowledgement didn’t excite me as much as it would have in the past. I was aware of what I’d done for my brother, how for years I’d carried the entirety of the family on my back. My father saying it was so was a useless confirmation of something I already knew.

“You’re more than welcome to pay my utilities if you have money to burn, Viktor,” Uncle Grygoriy teased. “Come Monday they’ll be late.”

“Talk to your son about that,” I scoffed. “He’ll be taking over my numbers racket. He should have some clams to toss your way.”

“You give with one hand and take with the other,” Maks admonished. I caught the gleam in his eye that told me he was proud that I was forewarning my family of my plans, something he’d implored me to do.

“So, you’re not considering this a vacation then?” Igor attempted to clarify. “It sounds like you’re intending for it to be more permanent. Where are you planning to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“I will believe it when I see it,” my father tsked. “You’ve been a lot of things in your life but adventurous has never been one. You were made to stay. I know this from when I wished you would go.”

“That’s a fucked-up thing to say, Uncle Taros,” Maks bristled, earning a look of warning from Grygoriy.

“I don’t mean it in a dark way,” my dad insisted, “or maybe I do. I don’t know. All I know is that you have always kept your head down so low that you never looked up to see what was ahead of you. It’s just who you are,” he told me, taking a swig of his beer.

“And you know me so well?” I challenged. For the first time in my life I was empowered by all my father didn’t know about me, like it was a special attribute rather than a source of shame.

If I hadn't already decided I would go to San Francisco, I would have made the move if only to spite him. How wonderful it was that bettering my circumstances could be both an accomplishment and a monumental “fuck you” to my father. Even though Taros wouldn’t know what I was up to, just the fact that I had the capacity to leave would be enough to shake him. I wanted him to be rattled.

“I agree with dad,” Igor said.