by Piper Malone
I would like her to use our newly appointed labels, but I can tell this is a tough crowd.
“Mr. and Mrs. Boytsov, you have a lovely home. Thank you for inviting me for dinner.”
Her father nods, not saying anything as he assesses me. Mrs. Boytsov’s eyes are trained on Kat as she mumbles incoherent words that possess a chastised tone. Mika just stares at his phone. The uncomfortable silence has me wondering if I should start trying to find a neutral topic because this stare-down situation sucks. Kat seems to be on the same page when we catch each other’s eye and both open our mouths to offer something to move this evening along. Thankfully we are saved by a short, gray-haired woman sauntering in from the kitchen.
“Ah!” she squeals with delight, “Blake is here!” Despite her age, she moves well. Before I can so much as blink, she hugs me and kisses my cheeks.
“You must me Babu,” I greet her with the same warmth she has extended to me. I can see Kat’s relief now that her grandmother is present. “Kat has told me a lot about you.”
“What has she told you about my cooking?” Her eyes narrow, suspicion weighing her features.
“That anyone who attempts to beat you will suffer a miserable, embarrassing culinary disaster.”
She slaps my cheek just a little too hard as she says, “I like you.” She turns on her heel, points to the family, and fills the room with thick Russian words. Mr. and Mrs. Boytsov shift, appearing to force their relaxation.
“Can I get you a drink, man?” Mika asks me after his parents have left the room.
“Sure,” I turn to Kat, “what would you like, doll?”
She mumbles that water is fine and I opt for the same. Mika looks like I’ve just fallen off the rails. When he comes back after retrieving the water, he literally throws the bottle at her. She catches it with a slight bobble. I watch Kat fix her hair and outfit, disrupted from reacting to the impromptu toss, and feel the wild urge to take a play from Nick’s how-to-manage-the-inventory book.
“Well, who knew that contact sports would be part of this evening’s festivities?” I glare at Mika before turning my attention to Kat. “Are you all right? For not being prepared you handled that quite well.”
“Dude,” Mika chortles, “she’s all about women being hardcore and shit like that. If she wants to be treated like a man, she better learn to toughen up.”
“Your sister is a very strong woman and that fact is not proven by her hand-eye coordination. Real men, those who possess any merit, treat others with basic respect and manners.” Clearly Mika needs a few lessons on what it means to be a man. My father would never tolerate my sisters being disrespected.
“Blake,” Kat’s tone, meant to redirect, wavers, “don’t worry about it.”
“Is this why you finally decided to bring someone around?” he taunts. “To stand up for you?”
“I can stand up for myself, jackass,” Kat snaps at her brother.
“Go burn your bra somewhere else, kid.” He waves her off before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
Kat’s fingers pull through her hair, a frustrated grunt pushing up from her throat.
“Kat, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pummel him into the ground.”
She drops her hands to her hips, an exasperated look of anger and frustration takes over her face. “Didn’t you get the memo, Blake? Mika is the shit. His cock is the biggest on the planet. All hail the firstborn male.”
“I have it on good authority that he does not have the biggest cock on the planet. There are some impressive porn stars out there. I run a close second, but I’m only off by millimeters.”
She snorts a laugh before rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry, Blake. They are my family, but we are from different planets.”
“Why did they invite you for dinner if things are like this?”
“Babu invited you. I told her about us at the wedding and she wanted to meet you. My parents will never refuse her invitation. Mika likes free food.”
“Is it time to mow the lawn yet?”
She rolls her eyes as an exasperated breath leaves her lungs. “I wish.” Her fingers link with mine. “Soon.”
Thirty minutes later, the family is sitting around a table heavily littered with rich dishes and tense conversation. It’s also a sadly sober affair. Had I known, I would have brought my flask. I’ve listened to Mika shovel shit about his job for twenty minutes and watched his father beam with pride. Kat’s mother is oddly silent and has the look of a penned bird. Her eyes dart around as if she’s nervous. No one has asked Kat about her job, friends, or about our relationship. There’s no conversation around the wedding or vacation or any of the trivial talk that connected families have. She’s been working hard on ideas for the community service project; it would be nice to share that with her family. Her excitement over the benefits of earning this project is contagious. I want her to win almost as much as she does.
During the majority of the meal, Kat silently picks at her food. Babu does her best to direct the conversation to Kat, but her responses are never expanded upon. A question is asked, she supplies the answer, and the discussion is done. Unfortunately, when Babu fishes for the story of how Kat and I met, we garner the full attention of her father.
As if awakened from a heavy nap, Mr. Boytsov remembers I’m in their home and begins drilling me about my family, education, and job. He has the balls to question the kind of salary a firefighter earns. He also has the decency to choke on his steak after an unidentified assailant kicks him under the table.
This meal, while delicious, is fucking torture. I’ve had just about enough of this bullshit.
“We had dinner last night with my family.” I glance at Kat, pushing potatoes around her plate. When I touch her leg under the table, she looks at me, her face softening under the pressure of my hand. “It was a wonderful evening,” I say more to her than her family.
“My father shared his experience of coming to the States with Kat. I was hoping you could tell me a little about emigrating from Russia.”
At my request, I hear Kat’s sharp inhale, her back straightening. Her father’s look hardens ever so slightly.
“There is not much to the story. We were very poor there. We had family here who took us in. My wife and I went to school. We provided a home for our children.” Every sentence is crisp, punctuated with an irritated tone. The entire household just dropped twenty degrees.
“I didn’t know you had other family in town, Kat,” I say more to her than to the table. She never mentioned an extended family outside of Babu.
“They went back to Russia,” she says quietly.
“Why?”
“It was an unplanned return. They didn’t want to leave,” Mika offers with a sharp-toothed smile. “They were able to come back a few months ago.”
The forkful of food Kat attempted to lift to her mouth clatters on her plate, sauce and meat splattering across the pristine tablecloth. She mutters a curse, apologizing to Babu for the mess. “H-How do you know that?” she asks Mika as she sops up the spilled sauce.
“Social media is a beautiful thing.” He grins as if he knew the news would rattle her.
“You’re a jerk, Mika,” she spits. “Where are they?”
“If they wanted to make contact with you, they would, Katya,” her father says with a firmness meant to intimidate but he’s obviously not familiar with Kat pissed off.
She straightens her spine, her eyes glued to her father, her head rocking back and forth. “Did you know about this?” she asks, turning her attention to Babu.
“I did, dear,” she pats Kat’s shoulder. “Come now, it’s fine.”
“It’s fine?” she lobs at her grandmother, who visibly stiffens and mumbles something I can’t translate. “I don’t believe this,” she mutters, dropping her napkin on her plate. Kat stands with her hands on her hips, chin dropped to her chest. She exhales and shakes off her agitation for a brief moment.
“Tone down the theatrics, k
id,” Mika says with a smug smirk. “It’s not about you.”
“You know what, Mika.” Kat takes her time prowling over to her brother. “You don’t know the first thing about something being about anyone other than yourself. You are the most self-centered person I’ve ever met. And, just so you know, if someone that hurt you would have started circling the place you thought was safe, I would have at least sent you a text.”
“Katya!” her father barks before shooting a sharp look my way. Mr. Boytsov must see the wild rage pulsing through my body because he tempers his voice. “You and your brother can discuss this later,” he offers calmly.
“Be a lady, Katya,” her mother chastises in a hushed tone, her eyes pleading for Kat to listen.
Her jaw rolls with tight tension as her eyes flick back and forth between her parents. She inhales sharply before turning to her grandmother. “Babu, I’m sorry I can’t help you clean up. Blake and I need to attend another engagement this evening.”
“Getting wasted with your friends again, booze-zilla?” Mika chortles from his seat. This guy has officially pissed me off.
“Kat and I are attending a charity event late this evening. I received the tickets months ago and when the opportunity to meet Kat’s family came up, I knew we had to figure out how to attend both events.”
Kat nods in confirmation to her family before placing a shaky hand on my shoulder and issuing a tight squeeze.
She takes a breath and focuses on her parents. “Thank you for dinner.” The simple statement is issued with a small smile that neither of them return. Her father’s face is pinched with anger and apprehension. Her mother can’t seem to stop sipping the beverage filling her heavy glass. “Let’s go, Blake,” Kat says before turning and walking toward the door with tight, almost forced, grace. Babu follows her, chattering in a language I don’t understand.
Kat’s exit is so classy, I almost feel guilty for wanting to shove my foot in their asses. Almost…
“Mr. and Mrs. Boytsov, you have a brilliant daughter. Thanks to you for whatever you did to make her the way she is. She’s perfect and I adore her.”
Kat’s father looks at me like I’m crazy while her mother offers a quiet, “It was nice meeting you.”
Mika, still lounging in his chair, snorts a laugh while picking at his teeth with a fork. “Good luck with her, man. She’s a piece of work. You’ll never get her to fall in line.”
I’ve had just about enough of this asshole, but I’ll follow Kat’s lead and be polite. I hope that we’ll be able to beat the shit out of him together. Maybe closer to the holidays…
“I don’t believe in subjugating a partner in order to get what I want. However, to do that, one needs more brains than brawn. Obviously you’re a little short on both.” I fight the compelling urge to punch him in the face before walking to the door. This house is a little suffocating for me. I can’t imagine living here for years.
In the fading daylight, Babu and Kat are huddled near the car, Babu smoothing Kat’s hair with a loving hand. I can’t make out the words, but Babu’s jaw bounces with the rapid movements of what I would assume is their native language. Kat responds in kind before nodding and hugging her grandmother.
When they see me, Kat turns her head to keep me from seeing the tears. It’s impossible to miss the swipe of her hand across her cheek. The beast in me wants to kick the shit out of her family for the distress they’ve caused her. I have no clue what happened but if it’s enough to shake her, it’s bad.
“Blake,” Babu says with a lightness that seems bizarre given the scene a few moments ago, “I hope to see you soon. Perhaps we can go out to dinner somewhere. I apologize for my daughter and her pig of a husband.” Her smile appears pleasant but I would not want to cross Babu in a dark alley. “We will celebrate when Kat earns the contest she’s entering. Yes?”
It’s a question that will not be denied. “Of course. That sounds great.”
“Wonderful!” She claps her hands together before pulling me into a grandmotherly hug. “Now, please take my granddaughter wherever she would like and enjoy the remainder of your evening.”
Babu waves to Kat, who has already sealed herself in our getaway vehicle before turning to me, her features bending under the pressure of kindness and empathy.
“I hope your first impression of the family won’t change your view of Katya. It’s always difficult for her to step inside the house she was so eager to leave.” A wistful look crosses her face before she continues. “She’ll talk eventually, Blake. Be patient with her.”
“Of course,” I say, Babu’s request catching me off guard.
With a firm clap on my arm, she sends me off. Our departure is a stark contrast to last night. My entire family stood on the porch, waved and flashed the outdoor lights as we drove away. I honked the horn, our arms waving good-bye from the open sunroof.
Now, with the vision of an elderly woman tottering back into a home that stifled my doll, I want nothing but to leave skid marks on the road.
It takes her about five miles before she says a word.
“Is it terrible that I want my brother to contract an STD that will make his dick fall off?”
“No.” I can’t think about what her wish really means. It would be a horrible fate for any man but one that Mika deserves.
She huffs a little laugh. “Thank you for agreeing that one of your own should lose his pride and joy for my revenge.”
“What can I say, my chick before that dick.”
Her ire is washed away with a full laugh. “Thank you, Blake,” she says quietly before flipping down the visor to check her eye makeup in the mirror. “Can we go somewhere for a drink?”
“Sure, but you’re not getting away without explaining this situation. My hunch is pretty good that there is some serious shit going on in your household and you are either the center of it or the reason for it.”
The second my sentence ends, she is rigid, glaring at me from the passenger seat. “I never did anything wrong, Blake,” she snaps, her tone making me flinch. “I did what I was supposed to do. I can’t help it that my mother falls to my father’s will and that the sun rises and sets on my brother’s ass.”
“Okay, Kat. I was just making an observation. Not an accusation.” The change in her demeanor is bizarre, signaling the scars from an ongoing war are split wide open after she visits her family. “I’m just trying to understand.”
“Here’s what you have to know, Blake. Mika is the golden child. I should have been a boy. I’m a problem because I am a woman who speaks my mind. I don’t need their approval for anything or anyone. I need a drink. Any questions?”
“None.” I wish I could look at her but I need to focus on the traffic. I can hear the anger, the pain this visit has caused. “It would have been nice to know what I was walking in to.”
“Don’t we all,” she mutters before leaning back against the seat. “Thanksgiving is always a fucking treat,” she says with distain. “You’ve been warned.”
“I will prepare accordingly.” My gut drops at the thought that she will have to endure this kind of situation again. My heart pounds at the prospect that she’s thinking about us celebrating the close of the year together.
“Their reaction to me isn’t a reflection of me,” she says softly.
I don’t know if Kat is speaking to me until I glance at her. My doll’s gaze is trained on the passing landscape, except this time, the visit has left her willowy and drawn. Her mantra might not have been for my ears, but the words are perfect.
Chapter 17
Kat
I hate when I can’t think. I’m better when I’m a vodka-infused karaoke queen. Ideas flow when I’m loose.
Now my entire body feels like a cork rammed into a hole with a mallet. My chest hurts, stomach aches from the constant pressure. If I were a cartoon character, my eyes would be bugging out.
I woke up this morning and realized the clock is ticking. I have a deadline for the pitch. I have no cl
ue what to do. I wandered around my apartment and started to worry. The fears that I won’t be able to perform on this task snowballed into thinking all the horrible things I say to myself when I’m down.
It’s stress. I can’t eat. My intake has been coffee and, now, nicotine.
My eyes squeeze shut from the pressure of the deep drag on my cigarette. It’s only one. Technically, it’s only one pack.
On any other day, I wouldn’t smoke outside my office. People would see me and no one sees me succumb to my nasty secret habit. I know it’s awful. I’ve seen the hateful looks of nonsmokers as they pass by the dense cloud of carcinogens hanging in the air.
They can kiss my ass. I need to work this out.
Smoking has helped with mental roadblocks in the past. It is only one and only to help the cause.
It’s a self-serving rationalization, I know, but rationalization is your friend. Always. The key to a solid rationalization is to keep it to yourself. Anyone else will shit on your parade and force you to see that the only thing you are doing is putting a flimsy bandage on a gaping wound.
I blow out another smoky, useless Band-Aid before flicking the butt into the appropriate receptacle. That’s my last one…for now.
Once inside the building, I wave my badge at the weekend security officer who barely lifts his attention from his phone. The elevator whisks me to my office, blissfully silent and free from distraction. I tried to work at home but my motivation to begin this project stalled before it started. I can’t stop thinking about Blake. I’m so worried he’s going to wake up next to me and realize that I’m a lost cause. I’m nervous about what this project means for my career. This pitch could be good press for the company and huge support for the community, but I can’t dig in because I’m a horrible person and cannot find a single organization to focus my energy on. I’ve looked at almost all the nonprofit agencies in Boston and, while they are all worthy and doing amazing work, none of them are clicking with me.