The first thing you need to know about Max is that he will always do what he wants to do. He has no reservations. The second is that he is Ukrainian. A very normal interaction would include him stating in a Ukranian accent, "Hello, my name is Max and I am from ze Ukraine." Overall, he is the most annoyingly endearing person you have ever met. Aside from the fact that he is crazy.
A bit of a back story
My first real encounter with Max was last Thanksgiving. It is my mother's duty to put up the Christmas tree in the front of my family's restaurant the day after Thanksgiving and I went to help out.
Cue in Max, the newly employed bus boy, who was sent to fetch all the decorations from downstairs. After Max had fetched the goods, he started to become very enthusiastic about the design of the tree. Telling my mom where to put the ornaments and suggesting a tour de France for a very small ordeal. Whether this enthusiasm originated in not doing his duties as a bus boy have been verified as correct.
Long story short, the night ended with me, Max, and my mom laughing our asses off as Max tried to balance on a ladder and shouting in broken English that he needed to get down because it was too dangerous.
Flashing forward to today
Max called my dad because they have become partners in crime. It's the night before I start school at Aristotle University and I just don't know what to expect. I'm nervous, excited, and cautious.
"Hello Max!" I shout across the room because my dad has his phone on speaker and I can hear every part of their conversation.
"Demi!" Max shouts in his Ukrainian accent making my name sound more like Day-mee. My quick greeting becomes a full fledged hour conversation with Max.
We talk about Solange's new album, that I am pressing him to listen to, and the tres leches cake we baked "together" (it was sole ordeal), and somehow we get to me saying:
"I don't think your a bad boy."
Rewind to us baking the tres leche cake, last week
While we were making the cake, he mentioned the fact that he was a bad boy in regards to his perfect little sister back home. I, being the categorized "perfect little sister" within my family, bristled and mentioned to him that maybe he doesn't know his sister that well.
Back to phone convo
And that is when our conversation turned, not on the day we made the cake but while we had thousands of miles in between us and wifi to connect us through Facetime audio. And oh boy did I tell him everything. I told him my dreams, my wants, my worries, my everything and I even did it with my dad sitting right next to me.
I fear about the changing environment and how its going to affect agriculture. I fear about refugees and hoping that they are all okay.
I want to speak out about sexism, SOMETHING THAT IS STILL SO PREVALENT. So, pansy boys that say there is no such thing anymore, SHUT UP. Yes, shut up. Sorry if you haven't heard it because I have heard it everyday of my life, unlike you.
I want to be able to have freedom. Independence.
I want to stop listening to what everyone else wants and start doing what I want. And you know what? It is bloody hard to do. Because I didn't learn how to do it. I saw everyone in my life go against that nature. And I was never able to learn it myself until now. It's a gradual thing and a fast thing.
But here I am, sitting alone in a country that isn't my homeland, writing...
And oh how I have wanted to write and write and write and write...
It was in my head, heart, and jazzying my fingers but I could never pick up the pen.
"I like this talk very much, Day-mee. You telling me things only when you far away. Here, you don't say," Max said, excitedly wanting to continue our convo into a two hour one.
Closing the phone, I realized he was right. I've hidden a lot in my life because of...many things and none of them relevant at this moment.
But today, I am not the perfect little girl no more. I am the bad girl. The one who will do anything SHE wants. Because if there is one thing the past has taught me, it is that you can never please anyone but yourself. I am done pleasing.
Shout out to RiRi. Good Girl Gone Bad.
(p.s. personally hate the sound of good girl, especially combined with perfect little girl)
(p.p.s FUCK THE PATRIARCHY)
(p.p.p.s ok, maybe in bedroom play it gucci)