Do Svidaniya, Ivan.

[Ivan (DELETED 5433)]

[May 19, 2014]

“So like, since you’re from Russia, does that mean you know someone in the KGB?” The vapid girl clutched her bag to her chest, staring at him like he was in a zoo. Or under a microscope. Both made him incredibly uncomfortable and he had to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. Every single time.

He didn’t quite stifle the sigh as her eyes got as large as saucers and she hissed out a whispered, “Like oh my god, are you in the KGB? You’re totally an assassin, aren’t you? That’s why you have those tattoos.”
“I do not know anyone in the KGB.” He enunciated carefully, knowing that English speakers had a difficult time with his accent. And he wouldn’t want her to come up with another reason that he was actually a dangerous assassin. “I am not in the KGB.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked away. Eventually the people at this university would stop asking him insane questions. He thought it would be better in Canada than the United States, but apparently the misconceptions weren’t just American.

He supposed it could be worse. He could have the last name Romanov and everyone asking him if he was related to Anastasia and if they’d ever found her and if the monarchy was coming back. Hushed whispers about Rasputin and Black Widow and whoever else they could think of who was Russian in the movies followed him. He hated Canada.

He hated Russia, too, but Canada was rising in the ranks. He doubted he’d ever go back to his home country now that everything had been squared away for him to study in Toronto instead. Impeccable academic achievement meant nothing to his classmates when he was foreign.

It just seemed like every day he got another question of what his name meant and where in Russia was he from and was Russia turning back into the Soviet Union. On the latter, he hoped not. He was just a child when the Federation was forming, but he never wanted to go back to another political upheaval. Another reason why he’d left.

Since he refused to return to his own country, he supposed he’d have to make a home in Canada. Along with the more annoying people. At least he was supposed to be going to a party that night out on the lakes. Away from Toronto and his classmates, beyond those who had accepted him as just another student. What could go wrong?