| Give me the Russian one... |
[Mar. 23rd, 2008|06:45 pm] |
When Viktor and Katarina Kozlov learned they were pregnant with their first child, the news came with a lot of reservations. They were living in a very cramped apartment building in southern St. Petersburg and the neighbors were often loud enough to wake the dead. The two young newlyweds decided, though, that there was nothing else they could do other than keep that beautiful bundle. Dimitri was not that baby. Dimitri was third in line, born to a set of parents that were more than exhausted with the idea of children, but were far more accustomed to having them than not.
Dimitri was brought up with the knowledge that his father had better plans for his three sons, but the problem with this was, there was little he seemed able to do about it in that little part of Russia. Viktor made up for this fact by insisting his boys take English and French in school and any mark below the best was punished. Dimitri was very smart just by sheer nature, though, so the punishments were usually kept for Mikhail and Petr. In fact, Katarina would often have little Dimitri sit on her lap and recite passages of books to her in French just so she could hear how they sounded.
Dimitri's life, along with the lives of the rest of his family, changed when Viktor came home to a letter from his sister Anja who had moved to New York City before Dimitri was even born. She told of a great life in the big apple and insisted that their lives would be better if only they moved to America. Viktor was just tired enough of his life to agree with his sister's insistence and, before Dimitri could really comprehend what was happening, the family was packed up and crossing the threshold of Anja's home.
When they first arrived in America and found schools for the boys, Dimitri was an eleven year old boy with a thick accent. It was difficult for him to make friends that weren't just interested in his disjointed English. He let everything roll off his back, though, and that's how he came to meet his best friend Gordon. Gordy was an equally smart young boy and had the definite advantages of an American accent and golden good looks to help himself along. Dimitri found that it also helped him and, soon, people wanted to get to know the "cute" little Russian boy. The problem was, when they got to high school, Gordy found a friend in the drugs his parents' wealth could afford him. He offered to Dimitri, but Dimitri hardly ever accepted and, instead, chose to sit back and watch his best friend.
When Gordy was found in the family garage, rope around his neck, Dimitri knew what had happened and he blamed himself for it. The remaining years of high school were tough and he often did poorly just to prove that he could feel something like disappointment. Viktor, of course, felt as though this was a failure. Dimitri, his brightest son, had failed him. Viktor had no problem showing his son that he did not approve of what was happening and Dimitri rebelled.
Graduation found Dimitri moving himself to Las Vegas-- a place he'd only ever heard of. At first, he lived with friends and held up a halfway respectable job at a local Walgreens, but the money was not enough. It was rarely enough. Soon, Dimitri was kicked out of his apartment and had to make his own way. This is how he discovered this life. This is how he came to be That Russian Boy. No last name and rarely ever a first name.
His life is not so tragic as one might believe, but is also rarely ever a bed of roses. |
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![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) 702 only. |
[Mar. 23rd, 2008|06:18 pm] |
What happens in Vegas
follows your girlfriend to the clinic. |
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