The Abandoned

My mother never told me

about her parents.

She regretted having to hide

such a pretty Russian name like Milla

between the ones

her foster family gave her.

But she told me the past

was another country now,

best forgotten.

It was in her nature to grow away

from the motherland,

just as it was in my nature

to grow away from her.

Sometimes I wish

I could go back myself,

to warn her that it wouldn't

be so easy, so simple...

that just because you're through

with your past

doesn't always mean

your past is ever

really through with you.

Yeah, what time is it over there?

No.

That's fine.

No. No, not yet.

Yeah, is Emily there?

Put her on, please.

Hey, sweetheart.

Yeah, Russia's...

Russia's beautiful...

kind of.

I'm... Well, I don't now just yet.

A couple of days.

What do you mean?

What, with Alex?

I thought...

No, I thought you weren't

seeing him anymore.

No, I don't have an...

I don't have an issue with him.

It's just...

Can you let me finish? Okay?

I don't have an issue with him.

It's just that I don't

want him staying over.

No, I don't care

what you guys do

in your own time,

just not in my house.

Hey, mind your language!

Yeah, because he's five

fucking years older than you!

Well, of course it's my business.

I'm your mother.

Yeah, l...

Can you just let me finish?

Emily?

Shit.

Mr. Misharin?

- I'm, uh, Marie...

- Marie Jones from America.

It's nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you, finally.

Make yourself at home.

Tea?

No, thanks.

- You produce movies, don't you?

- Yeah.

Big movies?

Well, probably big here.

You should see my daughter.

She's very pretty, you know?

Good for the movies.

I'm sure she's great.

You don't sound very American.

I was born in Russia,

raised in England,

and divorced in the States.

But your roots are here,

aren't they?

At least what's left of them.

Your mother's death certificate.

Can you read Russian?

No.

Her name was Olga.

Olga Kaidanovsky.

Apparently, she was murdered

just after you were born.

I tried to dig up everything I could,

as you requested.

You never knew about her?

No.

And my father?

Any brothers or sisters?

Sorry, no.

No records of anyone else.

Just the property you mentioned

on the phone, right?

Yeah, the Kaidanovsky place.

Now it belongs to you.

Look, I appreciate your efforts

on my behalf,

but it's been 40 years.

Forty-two.

Forty-one, if you insist on accuracy.

It's still another two days

till my birthday.

Yeah, so...

this is a present for you now.

Well...

Sign here, please.

Look, I didn't come

all the way out here

for the real estate, Mr. Misharin.

I've spent half my life

knee-deep in bureaucracy

trying to find my parents.

I've looked around, trust me,

but no one ever told me

a damn thing.

It was like

they never existed.

Our country has been

through a lot, Ms. Jones.

Governments change.

Things gets lost.

Sometimes people get lost.

So how did you find me?

I got your phone

from the Moscow office.

Took me six months.

You know, adoption was

a tricky business in the '60s.

Please.

I'm sorry.

I just... I don't...

I don't understand you.

You'll find this town

is not much good for postcards.

I didn't hear you pull up.

You must be Anatoliy.

You said 8:
00 on the phone.

Right.

I can pay you now if you want.

It's impossible to go at night.

They think we'll die out there.

But I'd rather be dead

than live like them.

Is everyone is this country so friendly?

What?

Do you know anything

about my mother's place?

Kaidanovsky Farm.

They call it "The Island".

The only way to get there

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