by Megan Hart
“Theresa and your brother went for a walk. She’s trying to get him to sober up, but good luck with that.” Galina shrugged and stuck a handful of dinner rolls into a plastic baggie, then sealed it. She straightened and shook her head so the fall of her long, dark hair skidded down her back. The silver in it glinted from the overhead light.
“Mom, let me take care of this. Why don’t you go sit down?” Niko went to the table to start packing up the food.
“I’ve been sitting all night. It’s good for me to be on my feet.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Where were you?”
“I took some casseroles over to Allie’s house. No room in the fridge here.” When she didn’t answer him, he glanced up.
Galina’s expression was neutral, her faint smile not reaching her eyes. “I thought maybe you’d gone away already. So eager to leave again.”
At least she hadn’t said “so eager to leave me again,” although he’d heard the whisper of it in her voice.
Niko put down the small box of cookies that had come from the local bakery. Nobody had even opened it. “I’m not leaving right away.”
“So, you’re staying here? For how long?” His mother tilted her head in a familiar mannerism.
He’d been given two weeks’ bereavement leave, but the Beit Devorah council had also approved six weeks’ sabbatical time. It was leave meant to be used for study and travel, accumulated over the years he’d been a chaver, a full member of the kibbutz. He hadn’t made any plans yet; he only knew he wasn’t going back to Israel right away. He’d booked only a one-way flight. He didn’t feel like explaining any of this to his mother, though.
“I don’t know,” Niko said.
“It will be nice,” Galina said, “to have us all here for a while. It’s been a long time since we had any time together.”
Niko wasn’t entirely convinced it was going to be nice, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Sure.”
“This is my house, now that my mother is dead.” She said the words flatly, with little emotion, but Niko wasn’t fooled. Galina could switch from hilarity to fury in a blink. He had no doubts she could just as easily erupt into grief. “We can all stay here together. You don’t have to go away so soon, Kolya. That’s all.”
He paused at that. Babulya had often referred to him and his brother by the Russian diminutives of their names, but Galina hadn’t made it much of a habit. If anything, she’d said more than once that the only reason she’d agreed to give her sons Russian names instead of American ones had been to please her mother.
“No, I guess I don’t,” he said.
His mother smiled then. It looked genuine. She looked at the table of food, then at him, and laughed. “Who else would help me eat all of this?”
“Mom.”
She looked at him. “Hmmm?”
“I’m sorry about Babulya. I know losing her had to be hard.”
Galina’s smile faded. “We didn’t get along very well, my mother and I. A lot like your brother and I don’t always seem to get along very well. You and I were always so much closer.”
“Mom—”
“She’s dead, Nikolai, there’s no point in telling lies to make it all better,” his mother said firmly. “That serves nobody. If anything, we should take this as a chance to remember that we never know how much time we might have left in this life, and if we want to put the past behind us, we ought to start now.”
He nodded, agreeing to keep the peace but knowing there was no way to leave the past behind. “Sure. Of course.”
“Maybe you should run some more of this over to Allie’s house.” She held up a platter of brownies.
Especially when the past still lived across the street.
Niko hesitated. “Ah . . . it’s late, Mom.”
“Maybe tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
They worked together in silence, clearing off the table and putting away the perishables. Galina paused at the back door, her cigarettes and lighter in hand. She said his name.
“Yeah?” Niko replied.
“Thank you. For what you said about my mother.”
Before he could answer, Galina had ducked out the back door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Then
Niko was watching her.
Alicia had her eyes closed behind the black-and-neon pink plastic sunglasses she’d bought at the dollar store along with the cheap plastic raft that got too hot in the sun and burned the backs of her legs. She didn’t need to be able to see him from here to know it. He was plotting something, some kind of revenge for the prank she and Jennilynn had pulled two nights ago when they’d snuck out of their house and gone across the street to peek in the windows of the Sterns’ den. Ilya and Nikolai had been watching some old scary movie, and they’d both screamed when the girls slapped at the windows and ran away. Now it was the boys’ turn to do the scaring, and the anticipation was almost worse than whatever they were going to do.
Nobody was supposed to swim in the quarry, but that hadn’t stopped anyone over the years. Most of the town kids got to it from the other side, on the old access road. There was a kind of beach there, mostly rocks and weeds, but at least it was at water level. The cops raided it sometimes, chasing away underage drinkers and pot smokers and the kids humping in their parked cars. The cops hadn’t ever bothered the Harrison and Stern kids, who made their place here on the end of Quarry Street.
Nikolai was the one who found the long coil of rope in the abandoned equipment hut. Alicia had come up with the idea for the swing, but Ilya was the one who climbed up the tree to tie the rope to the branch. Jennilynn had been the first to try it out, pulling the length all the way up the hill as far as she could, then holding tight and jumping from the fork in the tree, over the hill’s steep slope. Swinging out, out, making sure to let go so she wouldn’t hit any of the rocks if she fell in the water. Their parents would have shit bricks if they knew what their kids were getting up to, but that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? Doing the stuff you knew your parents would forbid because it was too dangerous?
They didn’t have a beach on this side, and the hill was steep enough to make the climb a pain, but there was a trail down to an outcropping of rock that hung over the water. It was big enough for all of them to lie on. There was another trail down to the water. If you were too chicken to use the rope swing, you could still jump off the rock ledge, then swim over to the spot at the bottom and make your way back up the trail. They’d talked about building a dock or something down there to make it easier, but even though the equipment shed was filled with odds and ends of scrap wood, they’d never gotten around to it.
For now, it was awesome to float in the old quarry’s chilly water. Baking on one side, freezing on the other. A can of cola and a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich awaited her on the rock ledge, where they’d all spread their towels, and later she would eat her lunch while they played Uno or gin rummy. There was a blue sky overhead, and a popular new song they’d all hate by the end of summer blared out from Nikolai’s radio.
“So . . . whattya think about Barry?” Jennilynn paddled over in her tube. She nudged Alicia until she opened her eyes. “He’s pretty creepy, huh?”
Alicia gripped the sides of her raft, too aware of how easily she could tip. How deep the water was beneath her, and how cold. “Hey, watch out.”
“He is, right?” Jennilynn nudged her sister again with a red-painted toe. “What are you afraid of? You’ll melt or something?”
Alicia gripped the raft so hard it dented the soft rubber. “Stop it. I just don’t want to get my hair wet.”
“I know, you’re afraid of Chester. You think he’s gonna chomp you.” Jennilynn grinned and disappeared for a moment inside the center of her tube, then resurfaced, ending up with her butt in the center with her legs dangling over the sides. She didn’t give a damn about her hair getting wet, and why should she? It would dry in blonde ringlets and get even whiter in the sun.
Chester w
as the carnival goldfish Jennilynn had tossed in the water a couple of weeks ago. They’d been joking that he was out there, growing and growing like the sunfish in that movie they watched a few months ago about a mountain where all the animals had mutated because of mercury poisoning or something from a mine.
“Answer my question, Allie.”
Alicia settled back on the raft, though she hooked a foot against her sister’s to keep them from floating away from each other. “About Chester?”
“No-o-o-o. About Galina’s new husband.”
“I dunno. He seemed okay at the wedding. He’s been nice to us so far.” Alicia shrugged. Barry Malone was one more adult in their lives they all did their best to avoid.
“Theresa’s okay, I guess.” Jennilynn, for once, kept her voice down so it didn’t carry across the water and alert the other girl that they were gossiping about her. “Can you imagine, though? Having to actually live with those guys?”
“At least she doesn’t have to share a room,” Alicia said. Nikolai had taken over the attic so Theresa could have his old room.
“No shit,” Jennilynn agreed. “Sharing a room totally sucks.”
Alicia laughed and shoved Jennilynn’s tube with her toes, but her sister was too fast and grabbed Alicia’s ankle so she wouldn’t tip. Also, so the force of Alicia’s shove didn’t force them apart. She dug her nails in a little too deep, though.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.” Jennilynn didn’t sound sorry at all, but then she hardly ever did.
They floated in silence for a few minutes. Alicia thought to put on more sunscreen so she wouldn’t burn, but that would have meant paddling back to the rocky shore, securing her raft, hauling her ass up the steep slope and onto the ledge . . . it was a lot of effort. Maybe she would tan, she thought, drifting, drifting . . .
“I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” Jennilynn said.
Alicia didn’t open her eyes. “Who says you have to?”
“Everyone has to decide at some point, Allie. You can’t just screw around forever. You have to decide.”
“But not right now.” Alicia wasn’t sleeping, not really. Dozing a little. Aware of the hot sun, the cold water, and her sister’s voice. “It’s not like the world will end if you don’t.”
“Easy for you to say. Nobody’s counting on you to make them proud.”
Alicia’s eyes opened at that as her heart clenched like a fist. The words hadn’t sounded hateful, only resigned, but they cut deep. She couldn’t even dispute them, because they both knew it was the truth.
The sudden splash swamped them both, nearly tipping them. Nikolai had swung out on the rope and dive-bombed them. Shrieking, both girls kicked at him as he tried to swim closer. Laughing, Nikolai shook his dark hair as he treaded water.
“Nice going, jerk!” Alicia said as he splashed at her, but she couldn’t be too angry. It was payback, after all.
“Bitch,” Nikolai said around a long spurt of water.
Jennilynn laughed, but Alicia flipped him the bird. For a second he made as though he was going to swim closer and tip her off the raft; she squealed and kicked at him. He gave up too easily. That was suspicious. He would finish his revenge soon, but she didn’t know when . . . and her skin crawled with delicious anticipation.
“He must have a big dick,” Jenni said suddenly.
Alicia choked a little. “What? Who? Nikolai? Ew, Jennilynn!”
“No, not Niko. Gawd, Allie, don’t be stupid.” Jennilynn used her hands to paddle in the water, turning her in the tube so she could get her head closer to her sister’s. “I meant Barry.”
How could her sister even think such a thing, much less say it out loud? “Gross, Jenni.”
“I bet they screw like rabbits,” Jennilynn said in a tone of secret glee.
There was something dark in her voice. Something secret and strange, and Alicia didn’t like it. She grimaced. “Yuck.”
Jennilynn spun, kicking gently. “I bet they do. I bet they do it every night. They’re newlyweds, right? Isn’t that what they do? I’m going to ask Ilya if he ever hears them. You know his room is right next to theirs.”
“Jenni, no. That’s . . .” There was something so off about that, so disturbing, that she couldn’t even finish her thought out loud.
Laughing, Jennilynn started to float away, and although Alicia reached for her, she was too far to grab. That was when Nikolai jumped off the rope swing again, this time landing much closer to them. The water swelled, tossing Alicia off the raft. She took in a huge gulp of water and flailed, forcing her way to the surface, where she choked and splashed. Blinded by the water in her eyes, her hair in her face, she grabbed for her raft, for anything, but found only more cold water. She went under again.
And again.
There, glittering in the water, was something orange. Fins tipped with black. It fluttered around her face, and she screamed, taking in water.
Strong hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her upward. They were on the shore in a minute or so after that. Alicia heaved up a gush of water but managed not to puke. She swung and punched Nikolai just below the eye, making him fall back.
“Where’s Jenni?” She demanded.
“I’m right here. Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay, right?” Jennilynn gave Nikolai a worried look.
Alicia fell back onto the dirt and weeds, ignoring how they poked into her. She closed her eyes, letting her sister and Nikolai worry. Screw them both, but especially Nikolai for overturning the raft and scaring her so bad. But it wasn’t the way the water closed over her head that lingered, or the chill of it that made her shake, and it wasn’t the glimpse of that carnival goldfish that somehow was still alive. It was how she’d reached for her sister and couldn’t find her; it was thinking Jennilynn had also gone under but hadn’t come up.
“I’m sorry, Allie.” Nikolai sounded anxious. “I was just getting you back for scaring me the other night. Hey, Allie, look at me. I’m sorry.”
His apology didn’t stop her from being pissed off, even if it sounded sincere. She sat. “You’re such a giant asshole, Nikolai!”
“I said I was sorry.” He grinned, knowing that her anger meant she was all right. That it would be her turn next to get back at him.
Because that was how it worked with all of them. Playing pranks on one another. Giving one another a hard time. Yet watching her sister climb the slope toward the rocks above where she would lay out on her towel and bake in the late summer sun, all Alicia could think of was how it felt in those few terrifying moments to think she was so alone, and how it had been Nikolai who’d saved her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ilya stretched the corner of a flowered sheet from one end of the hall mirror to the other and secured it with blue painter’s tape until it completely covered the glass. An Internet search had told him that was the tradition during shiva, along with tearing a hole in his sleeve. Where his mother had gotten the crazy idea that Babulya would’ve wanted this sort of honor, Ilya had no idea, but it was typical of her. If Galina thought she was going to one-up him in the grieving department, though, she was going to be disappointed. She didn’t get to come back around and act like she was better than any of them. Not better than he was.
“Hey.”
Ilya jumped, turning to see Theresa in the kitchen doorway. She still wore her coat, though she was tugging off the silky scarf around her throat. She hung her shoulder bag on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
Ilya straightened, self-conscious suddenly that he hadn’t showered in the past three days. Or shaved. He ran a hand over his chin, wincing at the scratch, wondering why in the hell it mattered if he looked like he’d been sleeping under a bridge. This was Theresa, not a woman he had to impress or anything. Yet at the way she wrinkled her nose, he wished he’d taken the time to clean up.
“You’re back?” he asked instead.
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she went to the fridge to grab a drink.
“I am. Your mother asked me to come. She said it’s okay if I stay here for the week, for shiva, but if it’s a problem . . .”
“Apparently it’s not my house,” he told her with a shrug. “So it’s not like I could kick you out, even if I wanted to.”
She eyed him over the top of her cola can, sipping, then let out a sigh. “Do you want to kick me out?”
“No,” he said after a second or so. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to, although why you’d want to, I have no idea.”
“I want to be here to celebrate Babulya’s life and help to mourn her death. Isn’t that what shiva is?”
Ilya made a face. “You sound like you know more about it than I do.”
“I dated a Jewish guy a couple years ago,” Theresa said with a shrug. “I picked up a few things.”
Time had passed—a lot of it—Ilya reminded himself. Theresa had lived a whole other life, just like he had. He imagined, briefly, Theresa kissing some faceless guy. Laughing, walking hand in hand. Weirded out, he shook away the thoughts.
“Besides,” she said lightly before he could reply, “my landlord decided he was going to finally replace the furnace and all the ductwork. So I need a place to crash, anyway.”
“A hotel would be better than this house,” Ilya said. “The shower’s a nightmare.”
“Oh, I know, believe me. I thought it was going to flay me alive.” She grinned.
“Grab me one?” Ilya gestured for her to get him a cola, and she did, which he opened and drank from before asking, “So, what’ve you been up to the past few decades?”
“That covers a lot of ground.” She took another long drink and shook the can to judge how much was left. Leaning against the counter, she crossed one arm over her belly to prop her opposite elbow on it.
“Well . . . you have a job?”
“Of course I have a job,” she said.
Ilya laughed. “What do you do?”
“I make connections,” Theresa answered. She drained the can, then tossed it into the recycling bin.
Ilya shook his head. “What do you connect?”