Deceptions

by Dana Mansfield

  It wasn’t Jack who was at fault for not being around; he was there for them almost every day since that awful 4th of July two years earlier. No, it was Crystal who checked out on the family. The situation with their parents confused all the children, even seventeen-year-old Alexsandr, nicknamed Sasha. I was not so much confused as troubled, especially about the Thanksgiving weekend. Jack wouldn’t explain himself to me when he ordered me to make the arrangements; all he said was that he wanted the family to be together at the lodge for the long weekend. He was short with me when he gave me the task which was not his normal behavior at all. Although Jack was a serious and focused man when it came to both his family and his career, he was also the nicest and most caring person I ever met. He was also my best friend.

  But things had been terribly different between us since June and I was convinced it was my fault.

  I thought back to the conversation with Jack just a couple days earlier. I was packing lunches for the kids before the sun was up when he came down to the kitchen. We’d known each other for over seventeen years going back to the July before we started Princeton and I recognized the stressed look on his face. Jack was dressed to go workout in the small home gym that took up half of the building in the backyard which also housed a small recording studio. He carried his worn but still stylish black boots in one hand and a dressy-ish button down shirt and fancy-ish jeans in the other. The clothes were not too worn out but yet not too put together. They were the clothes of a rockstar.

  “I need these ironed,” he ordered in his voice that was cold instead of warm like normal. “You need to call the deli and make arrangements to have a lunch spread set up in the conference room in the studio. Salad, breads, sandwich fixings, along with cut fruit and a couple dozen of their pareve sugar cookies, soda and iced tea. I have got a business meeting this morning that will last past lunch. There will just be three of us – me, Emerson and Tony – but order extra for dinner.” Jack set the boots down near the side door and tossed the shirt and jeans into the laundry room then stalked back through the kitchen, the family room, and into his small study.

  I just stared after him, not stunned but worried. I had kept his schedule since before college graduation and this business meeting was news to me. It was a rarity for him to spring changes on me to the schedule and those changes were all cancellations for the sake of spending time with the kids. I couldn’t remember the last time something was added to the calendar without me knowing about it.

  I looked down at the peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich I was making for Jack’s youngest child, Little Sofie. It was her favorite and she asked for it every day to take for lunch at preschool. It was the first of seven sandwiches I needed to make before starting breakfast and Jack was throwing a wrench into my finely tuned morning routine. Something was up and I wanted to know what. I finished Little Sofie’s PB&J and slipped the triangles into the brightly colored sandwich holder.

  “Do you have my clothes ironed?” Jack asked without looking up as I walked into the small but comfortable study decorated in warm blues and dark walnut wood. He was jotting a few things down in his leather journal. When he looked up with his warm brown eyes, he frowned and was cross. It was not a good look on his handsome face.

  “What’s going on?” I met his question with my own. “I checked your schedule last night; you had nothing planned for this morning. You and the guys have this week off before heading to New York on Monday for the album release.”

  “Do not worry about it,” he said and I bristled at his tone. “Iron the clothes, make the lunch arrangements, and then call for reservations at McEntaffer’s. I want to arrive Wednesday morning and stay through Sunday’s brunch. Crystal will be going so coordinate with her also. The kids will need to be excused from school early and you will need to start figuring out packing as soon as possible to make any last minute purchases. That is why I want the extra food ordered so you can busy yourself with packing and whatnot. Cold cuts for dinner will make your day easier so you can focus on this trip.”

  “I know.” I was quick with my words. I didn’t like the insinuation I didn’t know how to do my job but Jack ignored me which he had been doing a lot since June. Of course, I knew my job; I’d been doing it for over thirteen years. I knew what needed to be done. What I didn’t know was why the last minute trip since I already bought all the food to make Thanksgiving dinner and had just made the pumpkin pies and frozen them the day before. “I think it might be too late for McEntaffer’s…,” I began but he cut me off and I bristled even more with his abruptness.

  “Zastavit’ yego rabotat’,[2] Penny. We are spending Thanksgiving there.” He stood and placed the journal in the specially made bookcase which held all the rest of his journals. Every year since he turned nineteen on our shared July 4th birthday, I gave Jack one of the distressed, brown leather journals. He spent the next six months or so filling it up and then for one of his Hanukkah presents I would give him another one to last him until his next birthday. A few years earlier, he had the lockable bookcase made to hold the journals and only he had the key. It was a handsome piece of furniture, tall and narrow. The wood was a rich walnut that matched Jack’s desk and the built-in bookcases which held copies of his favorite books. The glass door had Prairie School design elements that matched the house. “Penny, I need those clothes. I will change after taking the kids to school so do not dilly dally. My meeting starts at ten and I have a few things I want to go over before Emerson and Tony arrive.” Jack breezed past me and again, I was worried but also felt a little irritated. He was treating me as the help I really was. Jack didn’t do that, unlike his wife.

  I never dilly dally, I thought to myself that day and repeated the phrase as I came back to the crowded suite. My hands were clenched in anger at the interaction with Jack and I should have stuck up for myself against him because his shortness to me was growing worse, but again, I just had no energy for it. The last two and a half years had been hell on the family and the last year for me personally had also been a struggle and so much, including Jack’s behavior towards me, weighed on me like an iron blanket and the depression I had been battling for over twenty years was sky high. I hated to admit it but my feelings were hurt as Jack never treated me before the way he had been treating me the last few months. I kept my feelings under wraps, however. I was not one to show my true emotions. It was one of my many faults.

  Things were now so different between us and his attitude towards me rattled me something fierce. This wasn’t his usual behavior with me and I felt so heavy anymore and even confused. I was used to Crystal being the rude one and working me to the bone but never Jack. Again, it bothered me but I kept it to myself. I didn’t want Jack to feel bad about his behavior. In the grand scheme of his life, I just wasn’t as important as I thought I was. There used to be a time where I would have been comfortable enough to address the issues with him but since June, things were just too different. Besides, there had been no time for me to try and talk to him the last few days; there was just so much to do to get seven kids and three adults ready for a last minute holiday getaway.

  Since getting up at four Monday morning, I barely had a chance to even catch a short nap and I was desperate for rest. I slept from two to four in the morning but since then I’d been going like crazy and I was worn out. I needed sleep but there was a slight problem – I wasn’t even sure where I was going to sleep. There were two double beds in the bedroom, a twin rollaway, and the fold out couch. That covered all the kids but where I would sleep was still a mystery but to be honest, it was more important that the kids had a place to lay their heads.

  Natalya gave me another rude gesture and I moved my gaze over to the couch where Little Sofie and six-year-old Annie, with her damaged legs propped up on her wheelchair, watched The Wizard of Oz. It was their favorite movie and they watched it at least once a week. They were scared of the flying monkeys but it was heartwarming to watch as they supported each other through those parts, each g
irl hugging the other. Not only were they sisters, they were the best of friends even with the two-year age difference between them.

  Three of the kids were playing a game of Monopoly at the small table. It was a quiet game. Leo, the youngest Petrov son at nine, was born deaf and all the older kids knew sign language so when they played with him, they opted to sign through whatever game they were playing. Everyone did their best to make sure Leo was part of family discussions and such but sometimes they forgot. Leo could be quite the stinker when he thought he was being ignored and many of the fights among the youngsters were started by Leo.

  Sitting in the window seat which offered a breathtaking view of the Poconos in the daylight was Karie. She was the quietest and most tender-hearted of the children. Karie, eleven, was very shy even with her family and she often chose to draw or read instead of partaking in more rambunctious activities. Crystal often pushed Karie into activities she had no desire for and there was more than one instance where I comforted a crying Karie after her mother ridiculed her quietness and failure at sports and dance. After I would calm her down, we would run to her favorite art store for a little retail therapy. She never asked for anything so these trips were special.

  “What are you sketching?” I asked Karie and sat next to her on the window seat. Natalya sat just a couple feet away and I could tell from her posturing she hated me being so close to her. Karie held her sketch book out to me and I saw an intricate pencil drawing of the scenery outside including the small gazebo which sat below the window. “It’s beautiful, Karie,” I said with honest words and she dropped her gaze to the pencil in her hand, a blush of color on her cheeks. “I know you started this when we got back from dinner but it was dark out by then and the perimeter lights weren’t on yet. Did you draw this from memory?” Karie nodded and I felt a swell of pride for her. She was such a talented artist.

  “I… I… I…,” Karie stuttered. She had a speech impediment and Natalya often took a sick pride in making fun of her sister.

  “I… I… I…,” mocked Natalya. Karie’s shoulders fell and it took just a quick moment for a tear to appear on her cheek. When it came to Natalya’s bullying and the other children, I worked swiftly. It was a bit too swift for Natalya and she was shocked when I leaned over and swiped her cellphone from her. My fingers were just as quick as I pulled the battery from the phone, stuck it in the pocket of my gray hoodie, and tossed the useless phone back to Natalya.

  She stood up, her face red with anger. I could tell she wanted to let me have it. I flicked my eyes to her clenched fists. Only once did she hit me with them, just a few weeks earlier. Natalya had an immense anger inside her but the last time Jack and I spoke with her new therapist, she had not yet made any inroads with the girl. Natalya was desperate to live with Crystal in Atlantic City but Jack would not hear of it and even Crystal wasn’t behind the idea. This just made Natalya more volatile.

  “You’re such a bitch!” Natalya screamed, threw her dead phone across the room, and ran into the small half bath near the door to the suite. She slammed the door so hard I worried she broke it. An awful silence filled the room. Although the other kids were used to Natalya and her behavior, it still shook them. Even Millie, a bit hardened from her own trials as an out-of-control teenager, was shocked. I took a deep breath and forced a smile onto my face.

  “Let’s not let this ruin our weekend,” I said, also signing for Leo’s benefit. “There’s ice cream in the freezer. Everyone can have one scoop and then it’s bedtime.” The prospect of ice cream eased the situation. The Petrov family was an ice cream family and I always brought their favorites when possible.

  There was another reason I wanted the other kids busy scooping their treat – I needed to talk to Karie. The quiet girl was the target, other than me, of Natalya’s bullying and it left her wounded. She was crying so I pulled her into my arms. For several moments, she wept out her pain until she pulled herself away from me. I used the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe her tears and nose. Not the best role model for dealing with snotty noses but it worked for the moment. I usually had a small pack of tissues on me but after using one up on Little Sofie out in the snow, I was momentarily out.

  “You know you’re so beautiful,” I said to the girl who had the Petrov dark brown hair but her mother’s green eyes, the only child to have inherited them. “I wish I could better explain Natalya and her behavior but I can’t. Just know she’s angry at the world. I know she says hateful things to you but don’t believe them. She tries to make herself feel better by making others feel bad. Okay?” After a few moments, Karie nodded. I gave her another big hug. “I brought our favorite tin roof sundae ice cream.” Karie gave me her shy smile and I took her over to the kitchenette and scooped the ice cream into a bowl. Karie took a spoon, loaded it up, and held it out to me.

  “Your b… bite,” she said. I humored the girl and emptied the spoon into my mouth. My stomach gave a happy rumble and as much as I tried not to enjoy it, I savored the ice cream. It was a pint container and Karie had taken what she wanted from it and I shoved the rest of the contents of the pint into my mouth, brain freeze be damned. I hadn’t eaten all day and my hunger took over. I stopped short of licking the container clean.

  “Nattie’s in a mood,” Millie said as the other kids drifted towards the TV. My heart warmed as Leo held Annie’s bowl so she could slide from her wheelchair back onto the couch.

  “Don’t call her that,” I gently admonished the young woman with the dark brown eyes and wavy hair contained in a loose ponytail. “She’s in a bad mood and you know she wants to be called Natalya anymore.” All the Petrov kids went by a pet name of their more traditional Russian name but two years ago, when everything went to hell, Natalya announced she hated her pet name – Nattie – and demanded no one call her that. Naturally, kids being kids, her brothers and sisters would sometimes call her Nattie to irritate her but as her mood worsened over the last year or so, no one but her Aunt Millie dared call her by her former pet name. Natalya and Millie did not get along at all and neither did Millie and Crystal. On the very bad days, the tension between Millie and her niece could be cut by the proverbial knife.

  “She’s got you rattled. I can tell.”

  “I’m just tired,” I fibbed but just a little. The truth was I was tired but Millie was more right. Natalya’s anger was becoming more of a problem and it was starting to fluster me. I needed to focus and work on getting my walls back up.

  “You and Jack should send her away.”

  “Milena!” I reprimanded her, using her formal first name. “We refused to send you away and we are not going to send Natalya away. Don’t you remember how you felt when Crystal demanded that Jack take you to that treatment center in the bad part of Philly?” Millie bit her lip and focused on her bowl of melting rocky road. “How did you feel?”

  “I felt as if she didn’t want me; that she just wanted to get rid of me because of my problems.” Millie’s problems were falling in with the wrong crowd and getting mixed up in drugs and alcohol. After several rocky years, Jack was able to talk her into going to rehab and we both flew with her to a much better facility in Arizona than the one Crystal wanted to lock Millie away in.

  “And I know that’s what Natalya is thinking. She needs her family.”

  “But she hit you…”

  “You don’t need to remind me,” I said in a clear, stern voice. “Just don’t worry about her. That’s Jack’s job and my job…”

  “And it should be her mother’s job also,” sneered Millie. “I blame her.”

  “No blame games,” I replied although to be honest, I agreed with her.

  The door to the bathroom opened up and Natalya stepped out. All the kids inherited the Petrov dark hair although they each had a unique texture. Natalya, however, hated the fact she resembled her family so much and in her defiant mood, colored her thick, straight hair a bright pink a week earlier. Her best friend Taylor helped her and it looked like a bad home dye job due to how dif
ficult thick, dark hair was to color.

  Jack had not been happy. Not because she was trying to show her individuality but because she defied him. He was more than willing to have me set up an appointment at Crystal’s salon in Philadelphia for the coloring but Natalya wanted Taylor to do it. Jack, and I, didn’t approve of Taylor and many a fight exploded over the friendship. Taylor was a troublemaker but the more Jack and I tried to control how much Natalya saw of her, the worse Natalya’s behavior became so Jack often appeased his eldest living daughter. When it came to the dye job, Natalya was headstrong, just like both her parents. She was going to do it her way and sure enough when she came home after skipping school with Taylor, she sported bright pink hair. It was now faded to a sick looking puce shade as her warm brown coloring gained advantage over the fake pink.

  The other kids were too engrossed in their ice cream and the movie to notice Natalya. She was a little unsure of herself as she stepped into the kitchenette and started picking at her already picked at chartreuse nail polish. While in the bathroom she had reapplied the heavy black eyeliner which was Taylor’s signature. I flashbacked to five years earlier and Millie who also went through a Cleopatra phase. I wasn’t so sure the family would survive another experience like that one. The family was strong but so much had happened over the last two years, the Petrov strength had weakened.

  “Can I have some ice cream?” At first, she didn’t make eye contact but when she did, there was rebelliousness in her brown eyes, as if to say I dare you to say no. I wouldn’t give in to her; that would be no help. Natalya wanted to pick a fight but I was tired. Again, I was picking my battles with her.