How hard can it be to accept that we are not all the same?

Society tends to judge us by race, sex, religion, political ideology, way of dressing, nationality and even your personality. The worst part of it all is that they believe they have the right to do so. Despite coming from parents that I don't remember giving me affection. Rather, parents I don't remember.

The abandonment of a child is very common when parents are not prepared to be responsible people.

I was raised by my aunt and uncle and for a long time they tried to change what in my childhood, someone taught me. I remember my principles, my Russian values and teachings. I used to be very conceited about my nationality or how perfect I am, but my uncles made me change. They taught me to have respect for the different tastes of all human beings and to be more humble.

But let's not fool ourselves. They loathe Russians, they loathe someone? Sasha.

"You can't judge anyone if you have to save them. You are a doctor and you must do your duty as the mother of all," my conscience opines.

Am I Thor's mother now?

Ok, let's get back to the main topic...

The acceptance of individuals.

I understand everything, what's more, I don't usually brag, but I help in orphanages and homes. Money doesn't matter to me, I've always liked helping others, but I can't accept that my dear uncles are friends with gang members! That already surpasses any attempt to live in peace. It's amazing how criminals manipulate every situation as they please. I sincerely must go to a judge to ask for a bond to keep them away from those hitmen.

Are they threatening them? Why didn't I notice it before? Are they afraid of them? Or maybe... they are all of the above and they know how to disguise it very well.

I accept that they are long distance friends, indeed, I accept that they see each other through a cell phone, but that they stay away from my lovely family.

I sigh and see my terrible friend coming towards me.

"Natasha!" she shouts, very euphoric, Dani.

Danielle Barone, she's been my best friend since she was about 9 or 10 years old. We study together most of the time, we are like sisters. Her father is Italian and all I know about her mother is that she left them a few months after she was born. Dani, as I call her affectionately, is a sweet girl and quite crazy, she enjoys her youth more than me. We are both the same age. It's not because she is my friend, but she is a beautiful person both inside and out. She has always been there for me in my worst moments.

She is worth gold and I adore her to death.

My lovely redhead is quite special. I just don't mean crazy. Well, her profession doesn't help her either. There's a legend at the hospital where I work. Rumor has it, the psychologists are crazier than their patients.

But what normal person has a normal best friend? We will always find the calm and the crazy, the angel and the demon, the yin and the yang, the clueless and the not clueless, the talkative and the mute. One will always complement the other and that is why we are called best friends.

Anyway, let's continue with my descriptive monologue...

We work at the same hospital, we are one of those friends who do almost everything together. I really don't know what I would do without her. Danielle is the one who keeps an eye on me in case I have any of my anxiety attacks. We don't live together, but we don't lack the desire, the problem is money. Dani's work shift is until the afternoon, while mine is.... well, mine is longer than 12 hours. It all depends on my boss's mood and the hours he wants me out of the hospital.

"That man hates me and is exploiting me at work," submerged in my thoughts, outraged, traumatized and wanting to sue him for workplace harassment.

"Masha!" her amused singing brings me out of my monologue.

"Danielle!" I pronounce her name just as she did with me.

She hugs me and euphorically, we shout, we jump up and down and we also scold each other. Sorry, but we were greeting each other. We went to sit at a table overlooking a wall full of old photos of the thousands of customers who have passed through here. We waited for Jay to bring our dessert, a gift from my aunt and uncle, and so we began to eat.

Time passed as we caught up. A week without seeing each other was an eternity for us. Lunchtime was long past, so I took a break to talk to Dani. We ate some delicious cannolis. According to what my aunt Francesca told me, it is a typical Sicilian dessert and consists of tube-shaped doughs that are filled with ricotta cheese mixed with vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, marsala, rose water or other flavorings.

"When the world overwhelms you, a friend and a delicious meal is the perfect combination to release your stress," I thought, as we ate the cannolis.

"You're telling me that four gang-like men are threatening the Rinaldi's? And you want me to study their behavior without them noticing?" She smiles and I nod again. 'What's wrong with you, Natasha? Are you out of your mind? This is definitely crazy, I love it. I've finally taken you to the dark side of life! " she jumps up and down in her chair, clapping her hands like a little girl.

I shake my head in amusement.

'Thank goodness I'm the crazy one," we laughed. "You have to see these men because they are terrifying. I only ask for discretion, do you know what that is?" I stress, serious the last words, she nods and her look slowly changes to a mischievous one. 'You're a pervert, you can't rape them!"

"I'm not a pervert, I just have a sexy mind," she replies slyly. "Besides, I'm just going to study the behavior of some individuals in a state of attack." She strokes her chin, starts to look at me in an amused way. "And what better way to find out than Christian Grey style." we burst into laughter.

'Definitely you," I point at her, "you're not normal at all."

"So you," she points at me, "love me, dear friend."

After our small talk, she told me that her father started working for a family bodyguard company. We broached the subject of moving in together before I return from vacation. My boss has been happy these days because I'm gone. See how that man hates me? He decided to change my shift to an 8-hour shift. According to him, I am stealing all the accolades as a surgeon that he deserves.

"He's a jerk," we said in unison.

"He should fire me if I'm such a danger to his profession," I sigh unhappily. "I'm a general surgeon. I'm everywhere because I work in the emergency room. Exactly what awards am I stealing?"

"Well, you're an excellent doctor, my friend," she smiles at me sincerely. "You work in the ER, but you help your patients. That makes all the difference and your excellent and noble heart, Natasha."

"Please don't forget to praise my Russian beauty and my great brain," I comment, teasingly.

"Oh, my God!" She slaps her forehead with the palm of her hand. "You are so arrogant, worthy of being the daughter of Russians!" we start laughing.

We decided to put together a perfect and effective plan called, let's catch the idiots. We made a small plan because of the lack of time we both have, but that doesn't mean that we won't accomplish any of the things that are written there.

Let's catch the idiots:

1. meet the gang members.

2. Get along with the hit men.

3. To be friends with the idiots.

4. Get important information out of them and bring them before the law.

We signed the little napkin with a pen that I had to ask Jay for. The name of the plan was put in by Dani. I wanted the name of it to be; the plan, but my lovely friend thought it was boring. We shook hands as if an important contract had been signed.

We are absolutely crazy.

"It's good to do business with you, Miss Zaitseva," says my friend.

"Likewise, Miss Barone," we both start laughing.

We turn around when we see my aunt Francesca approaching with two men. The laughter stops and I try not to run away when I see that these guys are part of the California gang members. Danielle and I automatically get up from our chairs when we see them coming towards us.

These people really know how to intimidate,

"Danielle, darling, long time no see!" My aunt hugs her and gives her two kisses on the cheek. "You look beautiful, honey," she looks her up and down.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Rinaldi. I haven't been here much because I've had a lot of work," she replies sweetly.

"Daughter, you are like Masha," she looks at us reproachfully. "Not everything in life is work. Young people should enjoy life. Guys, this is Danielle, my little girl's best friend," she points to my friend, "and this is Natasha, but you already met her the other day."

For a moment there is a little silence. The blue-eyed boy doesn't stop studying the restaurant, while the other boy, who looks like a map with so many tattoos, keeps looking at my aunt Francesca.

"It's nice to meet you guys," the two breathing statues look at my friend and shake hands.

'It's good to see you here again," I say, smiling. The blue-eyed boy looks at me seriously.

"I didn't catch your names," Danielle interjects.

"I'm Logan, it's my pleasure," the tattooed boy responds, looking at the two of us.

"Nathan," was the only answer that came from the blue-eyed boy.

What a talkative fellow!

"Since the four of you will be here these days, why don't you go out and have fun together?" my aunt asked amused. "Be friends, live your lives while you're still young." she sees the four of us. "When you reach my age, at least you'll have stories to tell your grandchildren. Believe me, they will thank me later."

"But my uncle..." She interrupts me before I can finish speaking.

"Natasha, I'll take care of your grumpy uncle," she chuckles and then walks away.

We stood in awkward silence and exchanged glances. Danille and Logan were ogling each other. Not because they liked each other, rather it was one of those looks that kill because one of them is hiding something and the other knows it.

My uncle Stefano explained to me that the human being is excellent at faking, but the only thing he won't know how to tame, is the look. He taught me to read them. I am an expert in knowing more than anything when someone is lying or hiding something. You don't know how I hate to know that my own uncle is hiding things from me.

The look Nathan was giving me, on the other hand, was very intimidating. It's not at all common and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I clear my throat and nudge Danielle, to stop what she's supposed to be doing.

"So, are you guys going out with us?" my friend asks.

Silence is her answer.

"They are mute," we say in unison, mockingly, high-fiving each other and bursting into laughter.

"This is going to be quite entertaining," says Logan, raising an eyebrow.

"Too entertaining, brother," Nathan's voice is sly, and he gives Logan a knowing look as he nods to something they mentally said to each other.

I think this is going to get out of control.

***

We arrived at the house as usual, after ten o'clock at night. My uncle Stefano was quiet all the way. He changed his attitude a lot when some Russian visitors came to the restaurant for dinner. They were just tourists, but every time someone with a Russian accent goes to eat there, he gets the same way.

What is my uncle afraid of? He is a man with many friends. Although most of them are young, lately I've seen a decrease in the number of visitors... and his friends. My aunt just ignores everything that's going on and goes into the kitchen to prepare amazing meals. She has always told me that it's best to stay out of trouble so I don't get hurt or injured.

What could she mean by getting hurt?

I lie in bed after a relaxing bath. I'm tired today too. There are days when the exhaustion I don't know if it's physical or emotional. So many questions in my head that no one can answer.

Who am I and how did I get here? Why can't I talk about Russia or my family? Why don't I remember my childhood? Have my parents never really looked for me?

"Who is Sasha in my life?" I mumble, grab my cell phone from the bedside table and settle into bed. "Did Sasha really die?"

I go to the browser and search for my role model. Several articles and reports come up about him and his wife. They say he is quite a despot, a lout and a bitter man. Others say that he is a loveable human being, but no one takes into account the positive things about him. I have admired him and followed him since he started dating the Queen of Sweden. By then he was just a doctor without much prestige.

"Aleksandr Kozlov" I see a smiling picture of him and his wife, they were in Cancun on vacation, "you had to fight just to get to where you are today" I smile and my heart starts to feel nostalgic. "I don't know why I admire you so much, but it makes me very happy that your countenance has changed to a softer one."

I put the cell phone back on the bedside table, turn off the light, lie on my side with both hands under my cheek like a pillow and smile at the only lamp in the room, which was on the bedside table.

"I will be just as happy as you, Aleksandr," I close my eyes, "I will be just as happy when I find out why I lost my childhood memory and who Sasha was in my life."

I know I can be happy when I know who it was, and who the owner of that name was. Sasha, a name that has been forbidden in my house for many years.

And with that thought I drifted off to sleep.