Restaurant La Mia Vita.

Larchmont Village- United States.

Natasha.

All my life I have lived with the idea that something is missing. I don't remember precisely what, but it's that feeling that you're living a life that's not yours. That you are living in the wrong place. That something is wrong and you have no idea what it is, or rather, you don't remember. For more than 15 years I have been having the same nightmares. I don't like to sleep with the lights off, I'm terrified of the dark. I went to psychologists, but they said that as I grew up, it would all pass.

Liars, nothing changed after I grew up.

It got worse.

There's a date I hate, a date I wish it didn't affect me, a number I'd like to erase from history, but I can't. Every August 17, my life falls into a thousand pieces. I don't know why, but it overwhelms me so much that I feel suffocated. If only I knew why Sasha's name affects me so much. If only I knew who she is, it would all make sense. My tormented brain would take a break, at least a day, a second, minutes, whatever, a break from searching for so many answers in a world that doesn't want to give me a clue.

For a long time now I have been burdened with several questions, that as the years have gone by have taken force in my life. Does parental love have an expiration date, did they get tired of raising their children? Or did they get bored of the label we give them at birth?

Parents.

This question is not at all parental, but I have it anyway. What is love, I can't tell the difference between affection, appreciation, admiration, pride or sympathy. For me, they all come in the same bag. I asked my uncle once, but to tell the truth, I was not very satisfied with his answer.

"Little girl, love for a child has no expiration date and we will never tire of our offspring. There are just some people who weren't born to be parents. Love, you can't explain it, little one. You just feel it. It comes to you when you least expect it and from whom you least expect it. The day you find it, you will know how to differentiate what kind of affection you have or feel."

He may be right, but I don't know, I'm not happy. Maybe my parents' abandonment has a lot to do with it. According to my aunt and uncle, my parents wanted the best for me, so for almost 20 years I have been living away from them. I have grown up believing that, abandoning your little girl with your relatives and never looking for her again, is the best reason in the world. I tell my tormented head that they had a reason for walking away from their daughter. I don't want to think badly of the people who fathered me, but honestly, I must have done something wrong for them to not even want to see me.

Sending gifts on Christmas, birthdays, and the occasional phone call for some patriotic date, is not love.

Since I was 8 years old, my parents sent me to live with my aunt and uncle in California. They have been my second home, my second family. They have supported and accompanied me in every important moment of my life.

But well, that's life. No, that's my life. My name is Natasha Zaitseva, my father is Russian and my mother is Italian. I'm not very clear about who I was before I lost my memories. Everything I know, it's thanks to my uncles. I am a medical surgeon, for some unknown reason, I always wanted to be one. No other profession caught my attention and even if I could try to do something else, I swear on my life I wouldn't do it.

I made a promise to Sasha. Even if I don't know who he is and his death affects me so much, I will keep it.

In the world of medicine I admire a man horribly. He is my role model, he is my idol in medicine. Aleksandr Kozlov. He is the best neurosurgeon in America and Europe. His operations are successful and he is the most influential person among us doctors. Well, that and he has a kick-ass temper. If I ever get to see him, I hope to find him in a good mood.

Rumor has it that he is a bitter and cold-hearted man with no heart.

Right now while I am talking so happily with you, I am walking to the restaurant my aunt and uncle have here in California. It's Italian food, it's always crowded. In my short periods of free time, I love to lend them a hand. As of today and for a few days, I have a vacation at the hospital. I have been in the emergency room for 2 years now.

Yes, I have to think about a specialization at some point, but I like the adrenaline rush I feel there. Also for the simple fact that my mind gets distracted and relaxed with so many emergencies. That way I forget about what's weighing me down. If I ever do it, I would go for being a neurology specialist.

Can you imagine?

Neurosurgeon, Natasha Zaitseva.

Dreaming doesn't cost anything!

"Humans, your salvation has arrived! The terror of Larchmont Village is here!" I waved, entering the restaurant, the workers looked at me funny, but then they laughed.

Insensitive.

"Thank goodness we're still five minutes away from opening. If you hadn't run me to the customers, Masha," says my uncle Stefano, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Are you coming to help us, little one?'

"You're jealous, Rinaldi," I answer, hug him and greet the others. "I'm on vacation for a few days, so I'm just another employee here. Please, I need my good pay at the end of the week," I answer teasingly, looking around for my aunt.

"Francesca?" he asks, pointing to a hallway at the back. "She's trying to play music, daughter. Go get her, so I can finish opening the restaurant."

He blows me a kiss and leaves for somewhere in the place. Immersed in my thoughts, I walk to where my uncle pointed me. Even though years go by, this place still looks beautiful to me. When I saw an Italian flag, I thought of the story my uncles told me about how they got here.

Stefano and Francesca Rinaldi, they are my adored aunt and uncle. They have raised and cared for me all this time without complaining about my parents. My aunt Francesca, she is the one who talks to my mother the most. Not a day goes by that my aunt asks her sister, my mother, to come and see me, but she has always said that work, or lack of money, prevents her from coming here. My parents have financial problems. They live on the money my aunt and uncle send them, so when I have some free time, I come to help them with the restaurant. I don't want to abuse them and their money anymore. They have enough with my parents who live off my money.

They have never forbidden me anything, but when I turned 13, they asked me to hide my Russian accent. I don't understand how, but my uncles and aunts tell me that during my childhood, I always spoke Russian to them. I don't speak Italian, I understand it, but I'm not born to speak it. It's as if my mind closes every time I try to say a word in that language.

The only place where I hide my life is with them.

Stefano and Francesca, expatriates from their country for more than 19 years, came to California looking for a better future, even though they arrived with very little money. There were many times they slept on the streets and didn't eat for days. If it hadn't been for a friend who helped them, I don't know what my family would be today.

Turning down a dimly lit hallway, I find her. There's my aunt. A plump 54-year-old lady with short brown hair, brown eyes and perfectly groomed eyebrows. She's fighting with the stereo because it won't play the music.

"Mrs. Francesca, please stop fidgeting with that device. It could give you a heart attack," I say amused, she startles and walks over to where I was to hug me.

"My princess, you're home!" She gives me a resounding kiss and pulls away a little to see my face. "You're too thin, Natasha, they don't feed you in that hospital!" We both burst into laughter and hug each other again.

"I've come just so you can feed me," I release my grip. "How's everything been at the restaurant? Nothing you want to tell me, auntie?"

It's good to be back home.

"No, honey," she dodges my gaze, going back to what she was doing. "It's just that while you were in Iceland, we missed you terribly."

"I also missed you very much," I kiss her on the cheek. "I'll stay and help you these days. I'll go and change, auntie pretty."

I hear her laugh after I've gone. They are not very expressive when it comes to feelings, but with me they have tried to be more loving. I live with them until my best friend returns from her trip to Norway. We are moving in together, we want to be a little independent. We have enough confinement with the hospital.

***

The rest of the employees received me very well. Most of them know me and the more help they get, the better things go. Easily the days went by. Things were going well at the restaurant, and the work was not difficult either. They were never short of people, from the time I opened at ten in the morning until Jay and I closed at nine at night. I almost had to beg my aunt and uncle to leave earlier. They are advanced in age and I don't want them to strain themselves.

Besides, as long as I'm here I'm going to help them.

It was Friday afternoon and everything was very quiet, quite crowded as usual and more for the fact that it was the beginning of the weekend. I decide to change the music to Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars. With the atmosphere more lively, I take several orders, started to head towards the kitchen when 4 bad boy looking men walk in. They were quite muscular and in their looks you could read a; stay away if you want to stay alive. After seeing them I start to feel a horrible anguish and without waiting any longer, I head off to tell my uncle.

The worst of all this?

Well, my uncle knew them, because when I told him about the guests and he saw them, his face lit up and with a big smile he spoke to my aunt:

"Francesca, amare, Nathan is back" he runs out from where she was, joins my uncle and together they go to greet the quartet.

"Nathan... Who is Nathan?" I asked in a whisper.

I stood still as I followed them with my eyes to the table of the four thugs who looked happy to be back home.