Concrete Jungle

Chapter 1

       Getting off the subway and walking up to the surface on a sunny and warm June morning, people were busy trying to get to their offices and jobs. It was just warm enough not to be humid yet in the greatest city in the Western hemisphere. New York City was sparkling this morning in the sun and cloudless sky. One of those New Yorkers scrambling up the stairs to get to her job that Monday morning was a young 35-year-old woman, wearing jeans, a navy long sleeved off the shoulder shirt, and black cork wedges. She glanced at her rather simple watch, squared her shoulders with a small smile and walked the few blocks to the building where she worked.

Alexandra Feodorovna Morozova was a striking brunette with a ponytail and friendly but serious brown eyes. Everyone who knew her called her Sasha because her name was a mouthful. The building she now entered was the National Geographic Society building where she worked as a journalist for the last 5 years after receiving both her bachelor's and master's from Columbia University in Journalism. Her thesis on Icelandic Volcanoes and how they impact the world, had brought NatGeo calling. She nailed the job on her first interview, and never looked back.

She wasn't married or really looking for a serious relationship at that moment. All of that drama she had when she was in college with three serious boyfriends who all eventually fizzled out. Now her main goal was to visit every single country on the map and write amazing articles of her travels. She was happiest when she was in her rugged traveling clothes and her backpack, with her notebook and a pencil. Her younger brothers always teased her that she was way too old school and should switch to pens like other adults, but she just shook her head and grinned. Pens could be unreliable, break, spill, get lost, but pencils could be sharpened with a box cutter if necessary, depending on how much she was roughing it. She wasn't picky. A 5-star hotel was not on her list of adventures.

Her parents were always shaking their heads at her, wishing she would stay put for a while and write for a "normal" place like the Wall Street Journal or something of that nature. But she would always roll her eyes at that and repeat the same thing; she always wanted to travel the world. She never left her house without her passport, phone, and a change of clothes. She was constantly going somewhere, mostly last minute. She had just gotten back from a 3-week safari in the Serengeti, in Africa and had a great tan and a terrific story about the elephants. She was smiling as she thought about putting the story together on her laptop at work.

Just as she was about to reach the elevator that would take her to her floor, her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and looked at the name and number. Smiling wider and hitting the green button on the iPhone, she said cheerfully in Russian:

"Good morning, mama."

On the other end, her mother Ekaterina Ivanovna Morozova greeted her just as cheerfully. Ekaterina and her husband Feodor lived in Brooklyn, which was a separate borough of New York City in a co-op apartment building very near to the boardwalk on Brighton Beach; they lived on the 11th floor and had a great view of the ocean from their master bedroom and living room. Their apartment was a 3 bedroom, and though Feodor was now retired, she still worked as an administrator in one of the branches of the Brooklyn Public Library. Sasha had moved out as soon as she entered Columbia and never came home to live anymore. She lived on the lower east side of Manhattan on Gold Street near Pace University and the Brooklyn Bridge. She took the C or E trains to work, and Ekaterina usually knew when her daughter would be out of the subway and called her before she got to her floor and her desk. They would always talk twice a day; in the morning and in the evening.

It was their ritual except for when Sasha was on assignment, then they would still do it but before Sasha went to sleep. She would somehow figure out how to call her mother regardless of the sometimes 20 hour time difference. Ekaterina would tease her sometimes saying that one of these days Sasha would send her smoke signals in the form of "goodnight" because she would be so completely in the middle of nowhere. It caused chuckles among the whole family. Their family wasn't that big; other than Sasha, Ekaterina, and Feodor also had twin boys that were 6 years younger than their big sister named Georgeiy or George and Mark. Both boys lived at home and had their own rooms once Sasha moved out which made them very happy though they missed their sister when she was gone.

Unfortunately, both boys were born with health problems. George had cerebral palsy, and Mark had high functioning autism. They were born on time but with lots of cards already stacked against them. Thankfully, Mark could help his parents with George who was a laughable and lovable kid even at 28 years of age. Three doors down the hall lived their father's brother Vladimir and his wife Nadezhda or Nadya as everyone called her. They both couldn't have kids and instead helped with George and Mark when they were young and now more with George as his parents got older.

The entire Morozov family were born in Gomel, Belarus, their country was known as the USSR until 1991. Vlad and Nadya immigrated to the United States first in February of 1986, and the rest of the family followed in 1989. They came straight to Brooklyn, and other than Sasha living in Manhattan proper, none of them ever left. They were looking for the American dream, and all became citizens 4 short years after arrival. They wanted better futures and lives for their children. The family all spoke Russian and English; though they preferred to speak Russian at home and around each other and their friends.

Ekaterina and Sasha were speaking in Russian over the phone now as Sasha continued to regale her mother with stories of her trip to the Serengeti to hearty laughs and gasps of astonishment on the other end. With promises to chat after Sasha got home from work that evening and declarations of love for the other, both women disconnected at the same time just as Sasha had gotten out of the elevator and turned right, waving at the receptionist with a smile. She walked around the large floor filled with cubicles and offices, as scientists, journalists, and photographers chatted amongst themselves and with various editors. Some were conferring over a map of recent earthquake activity in Indonesia with their sleeves rolled up.

Sasha smiled to herself as she walked by the quiet yet chaotic atmosphere. She was in her element. Walking up to her desk, she switched on the little light she always kept on when she was working that a scientist from England had gotten her as a thank you gift for bailing him out of a hairy situation. Glancing into her editor's office, she caught the red head's eye and smiling sat down to start on her story. She inhaled, took a swig of the water from the water bottle she had on her desk, closed her eyes, and pictured those elephants against the disappearing African sun.

Meanwhile, her editor, Kathy had a project in her lap of massive proportions, and she knew that she only wanted one person to head it; Sasha. Kathy was aware that Sasha was the best young voice in that office and her gung-ho personality and willingness to travel to the most remote locations and craziest environments, would make for a great opportunity and Sasha would have a little less than a year to make this story as epic as it deserved to be. Neither knew how everything was going to change with one single, solitary, word.