Heros/Villains

“I’m kind of like an onion”, he explained, as he took a long drag from his American Spirit cigarette. Irony at it’s finest, because if you knew Nikola aka Nik, you would know that that is the last thing he ever would eat in the world. The mere thought of it usually brings him to a slight gag, but not tonight. The analogy seemed to be most appropriate for the story I will begin to unfold for you. Nikola Petrov Panayotov, age 39, Bulgarian native. Initially I knew going toward this interview might be quite the challenge, but I also knew that there is no one more interesting to me than him. Challenge excepted. Born to a small town center of Bulgaria, July 6, 1979, Nikola was born into a world of communism. Although I have learned about this in my early years, nothing I ever read or learned about communism could help me be able to relate to what living in that time really meant. I watched him, sitting on our fire place,as he typically does at night, nervously twirling a ripped string his pajama pants had round and round his index finger. The one with a deformed nail due to hitting it with a hammer in the garage on accident one day. Nik is a very mild spoken man, although when he does speak a wealth of knowledge spills over his thick lips and grabs you like a spell. "Mild spoken? maybe in English!" Polina roared with laughter through the cracked screen on my phone as we spoke over the international app Viber. Polina is Nik's little sister. 11 Years younger to be exact. She grew up a different way but I thought I might ask her what life was like living in the shadow of her older brother. "He is a legacy here!" "Everyone who is anyone in this town knows our family name if not for my parents working at the hospital, or Nik and his crazy shenanigans." "He is also very well respected here" Although I found this to ring true when I went there Polina explained how the times are changing every year he is away from home. She looks like a small version of Nikola, just female. Her face mirrored his eerily. Conversation over Viber had become the normal for Nik seeing his family every week.

“3 to 4 times a year we would come out of the school for something similar to a parade, to wave flowers as people passed by, while holding a big smile for everyone to see. This show, I like to call it, was called Manifestation." The definition of manifestation is described as "a public demonstration of power and purpose." (Google Dictionary). During the years of communism very few privileges were available for people to have. Things that we take for granite in our everyday lives were considered privileges for the people of Bulgaria. I see his face shift as we begin to get into depth on the small things that were withheld from him as a child. Something as simple as citrus fruit was only allowed in certain times of the year, and when they were allowed people would stand in line for hours in hopes that they would be able to bring home citrus fruit to their families, something that they waited for year round. I see his face shift upward as if he is smelling something or having deja vu subconsciously. Sweet sweet smell of fresh fruit.

Nik did not live a life of privilege as one would expect to, with both parents being Doctors. We, as Americans, think dollar signs for two parents with a profession like that, but not over there. Nik moved to Libya when he was 12 years old. I look at his silver grey hair seeping through ever so slightly on his beard, with the can can lights that are on the ceiling shining down on him like a spotlight. The stage was his . The mood had been set. "I was 12 years old when we went to Libya so both of my parents could work over there, in hopes that going to a wealthy country, may let them earn more money for our struggling family" he reflected. The conversation had taken a more serious turn I could tell by the way his ears folded back into his head when his jagged sharp eyebrows rose. Libya was a Muslim country, and although at the time he moved there, communism had been over for a few years, he was struck by how religion was able to be practiced so openly. You see, Nik was not allowed to practice religion of any sorts when communism was alive. Being able to worship to a higher power in such an open light was fascinating for a young boy deprived of religion for so many years. This opened up to so many new things for him." I used to be able to air drum the whole Guns-N-Roses album in our 1 bedroom apartment while my dad played the guitar and vocals" chuckling as you can see a memory has swept through his brain and hit an endorphin. The sides of his mouth curl up and he looks at the ground. What was just giving him pleasure also came with a memory of pain. A time in his life where he was close to his dad and the world was theirs together. Just a couple of air instruments and a simple record playing to sweep away their worries of anything other than what was between those walls in that small space. Music was able to be listened to, American movies were able to be played wherever he went, and when they went back to Bulgaria, this had become something of the normal.The Western influence came into the small country of Bulgaria faster than Charlie Sheen saying, “ winning” (Sheen, 2011) after 3 lines of coke. Nik began to plot his transition then from Bulgaria to America.

With Bulgaria being somewhat of a poverty stricken country, he was bound to make a better life for himself here in America home of the free and the brave. Although most would find this transition terrifying, if not for leaving everything you know behind, but only having a preconceived notion on what he was walking into, but not Nik. He welcomed this opportunity with open arms and embraced the new change as he was setting forward on his journey of aberration."America is the greatest country in the world, no doubt" he pressed his chest up as if he were about to stand up for the national anthem. Although he had a mild taste of the West, going to London for a short stay, coming to America was a whole new ball game. No pun intended. Work was something that was needing to be addressed first thing when he came to America. He landed on the “The most beautiful beaches in the world” or “that is how Florida sold the Panama City Beaches as on the T.V.” he explained, as he veered into a short conversation about what was the most shocking thing about America. The advertising on T.V. or the propaganda if you will, or how we were allowed to trade mark titles and deliver them to viewers at home on their television, and the ignorance that Americans had to believe everything that they heard. This was the most shocking thing to him.

After a few years in Florida his options had become limited forcing him to move back home for a short while. In the time he went back home partying and hanging out with old friends and family, he always had known that it would be temporary and dreams of coming back to finish what he had started were more predominant now more than ever. “I had just got a green card, and a lot of doors were to open up in the US for me” he added, as he looked me in the eyes as if he were speaking to my soul. Someone inside me that knew, if he had not had the determination and will to follow this journey alone, my family, as I know it now would cease to exit, but this isn’t about our love story. Back to the original scheduled program. Nik had a few friends in America, "I had 3 friends I could call to stay with one was back in Florida, one was in Las Vegas, and the other was in Chicago" he explained. So when the partying subsided over in that small country of Bulgaria, the place where the roses bloom in full force, the food comes with hour long conversations and drinks all around, and the fresh smell of laundry detergent seeps into your nose as the wind blows and everyone’s outside hung clothes burst up with the gust. Standing still had never been his mission. I observed his body language. At times he was engaged in conversation but typically looking at the ground instead of me. He even shook his head without knowing at times. He decided to reach out to a friend he had made on that long flight way back when from Bulgaria to America. The friend, had now lived in Chicago and Nik wanted to try on his city boots. It also helped that the friend who lived in Chicago lived in an area where Bulgarians were know to congregate. This appealed to him so he decided to move in with the friend who lived in Chicago to see how he fit in the mid western region of this foreign place, which by now, funny enough became a home away from home.Driving a truck in Florida, helping a friend without a C.D.L., had lead him to a short stent in driving limos here in the windy city.

Flash forward a few years we had met and started a family with our beautiful daughter Ava. Flash forward some more years now the owner of his own trucking company.Throughout the years of living together it never ceases to amaze me how much I learn about this complex man on a year to year basis. It is like he lets pieces out all scattered, and I am left to put these puzzle pieces together and make some sense of it all. Man of many layers.The truth is, you never can fully relate to someone when they have lived such a different life than your own. An American's life could have not been any more different than his. Throughout the process of growing , culture has been brought to the table on many occasions. As Nik teeter totters on the edge of 39 to 40, I believe his many layers have led him to become the person he is today. Speaking with Nik is always educational and interesting. There is always a layer to be peeled back with him. He speaks his truth and you can see the passion that burns behind those blue eyes with brownish specs. Looking over the fire place begins to become to hot for him so he shifts his body from the granite to the Brazilian cherry wood floors custom made. The floors were something of importance for him as was the house we sat in. Finally something to show for after leaving his country so many years ago. A rite of passage if you will. Material things aren't attractive to him most of the time. The worn t-shirt and Christmas pajama bottoms bought for him were a typical attire here in these walls. I can appreciate the many layers that is my husband today.In closing, I would like to leave you with the analogy of the onion by John Casing. "The onion is an illuminating bulb. But only by peeling its many layers, can one reveal whether it has a sweet heart or a rotten core." At the mention of the word onion he cringed, yet decided to compare himself to one. Irony? Maybe. Only time will tell.