Zhanna Slor - At the End of the World, Turn Left

“Maybe instead of telling me what’s good for me all the time you can let me try to figure out what’s good for me,” I say. “Isn’t that the whole point of freedom? So every person can make their own decisions?”

For a moment I think I might be getting through to her—if I will ever get through to anyone it would be my mom—but then she goes and ruins it again. She looks pointedly at my clothes and says, “I wish I could do that, Anastasia, but I’m less and less sure every day that you’re able to know what that is.”

How they don’t see the irony of constantly telling me what I know and what I need to do, after escaping a life under totalitarianism, is really beyond my understanding, so I do not even try to respond to this. But my silence only eggs her on.

“I just think whatever it is you’re looking for, you can find it in Israel,” she says. “Plus, they have tons of programs that support people like you. Probably art ones, too.”

I move right past the ‘people like you’ comment and sigh. For a moment I try to picture it in my mind, but all I can imagine is camels and people with guns. A market full of hookahs and oriental rugs. Men praying to a giant wall. Donkeys in the street. Pictures my sister had shared.

“I’m not saying you should move there, honey. America is the greatest country in the world; I still believe that,” she says. “But a few weeks in a different place… might give you some perspective, at least.”

“If you like it so much why don’t you go there?” I ask.

“Maybe I will. We can go together.”

“You should go home, Mom.”

Mom scowls, her eyes darting from mine. “Anastasia…”

“I want to stay here, Mom. I want to be an artist.”

“I see,” she says, gritting her teeth.

I don’t look away. “I’m not asking for your help. I’m not asking you to understand. I’m just asking you not to hate me for it.”

I expect her to argue more, but instead she stays silent. Then she puts her hand over mine, and, surrounded by the Russian language echoing in our ears, we sit and watch the birds for what feels like a lifetime, imagining the places we would go, the things we would do.

Because we are free, and we are American, the opportunities are endless.

Biggest thanks to my editor, Chantelle Aimee Osman, without whom I would never have written this version of the book, and Polis/Agora for all the help and support throughout the publishing process.

Another big thanks to my husband, who is surprisingly good at editing for someone who doesn’t write. Without his constant analyses and our long walks discussing all aspects of human existence, this book would also never have come to fruition.

A special acknowledgment to my daughter Alma, who has been my lucky charm since the day she was born! I always thought this book was my baby until I had her and realized: nope, not my baby.

Thanks to my dad Igor and my babushka Valentina and all of the courageous relatives who came before me and are no longer with us, including the ones I was never able to meet.

Lastly, thanks to my fabulous in-laws, Haya and Eran Talmon, for all their support.

Zhanna was born in the former Soviet Union and moved to the Midwest in the early 1990s. She has a master’s degree in Writing and Publishing from DePaul University, and has been published in many literary magazines, including Ninth Letter, Bellevue Literary Review , Tusculum Review , Midwestern Gothic, Another Chicago Magazine , and five times in Michigan Quarterly Review , one of which received an honorary mention in Best American Essays 2014. She and her husband, saxophonist for Jazz-Rock fusion band Marbin, recently relocated from Chicago to Milwaukee, where, besides writing, she is raising her newborn daughter.

The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Zhanna Slor

Cover and jacket design by 2Faced Design

ISBN 978-1-951709-25-9

eISBN: 978-1-951709-54-9

Library of Congress Control Number: available upon request

First hardcover edition April 2021 by Agora Books

an imprint of Polis Books, LLC

44 Brookview Lane

Aberdeen, NJ 07747

www.PolisBooks.com