by R L Burgess
Reyna thought she caught a meaningful glance pass between Samira and John.
“But why is she coming to dinner, Dad? Just because she’s fun? Can’t you guys just have fun at work?”
“Well.” John fiddled with the lid of his cup, snapping it on and off repeatedly. “She mentioned she would, uh, enjoy the chance to make some new friends, so I invited her over.”
“She wants to be friends with us?” Gideon wrinkled his nose like the prospect didn’t fill him with joy. “She’s old, like you guys, right?”
Samira spluttered. “Hey! Who are you calling old? Your father may be, but Reyna and I aren’t even forty yet, whippersnapper. Watch yourself.”
“How old are you, Aunty Rey?” Holden turned a curious eye on Reyna.
“Don’t you know?” Gideon asked. “I know exactly how old my mum and dad are.”
“Yeah but she’s not…” Holden trailed off, rubbing his finger against a streak of dirt on the table, his eyes suddenly far away.
“I’m his aunty, remember? Nobody knows exactly how old their aunties are,” Reyna said smoothly, ruffling his hair. “For all Holden knows, I’m as old as the hills. Anyway,” she said, making her voice sound quivery and frail, “back in my day it was considered rude to ask your elders how old they were.”
The boys laughed at her, taking turns to copy her silly voice.
“Hey, race you to the mud pit,” Jessie said, taking one last slurp from his cup before throwing back his chair and dashing away from the table. The two other boys shot off in hot pursuit.
“So, who is this Yana really?”
John blushed, avoiding Reyna’s steely glare. “She’s just a work colleague. Samira and I thought it would be nice to broaden our social circle a little.”
“It had better not be a setup.”
“Rey!”
“John?”
“Give her a chance, you might like her,” he said awkwardly, his eyes wide with guilt.
“I don’t have time to like anybody.”
“It’s just a casual dinner, Rey,” Samira said. “Not like a real setup. If you like each other you might decide to meet for a coffee sometime. If not, there’s no pressure.”
“Seriously, why are you guys trying to set me up? Are my hands not full enough here?” She gestured across the field to Holden who was attempting a headstand in the middle of the mud pit. “What with work and trying to keep a child happy, my plate runneth over, or whatever the saying is.”
“Well I don’t think it’s that.”
“No, it’s cup runneth over, isn’t it? It’s cup runneth and plate full, I believe.”
“Whatever you guys! That is not the point.” Reyna eyeballed her friends. They stared back with woeful, puppy dog eyes. “Stop it. Those eyes are not going to cut it here. You’re both in big trouble.”
“Yikes, now I know how your underlings at work must feel.” Samira giggled.
“Yes, watch out!” John elbowed Samira. “Boss is on the warpath.”
Reyna smirked and shook her head, a smile twitching at her lips in spite of herself. “You’re both being ridiculous. But seriously, I do not have time to think about dating anyone.”
“Seriously,” Samira said, throwing the word back at her, “you need to let go of the reins and give yourself sometime to enjoy life. Doesn’t being the boss mean you can handball a bunch of stuff to your minions?”
“It doesn’t work like that. I want to know, I need to know what is going on so I can make sure we’re all on the same page. It’s like being the captain of the ship. I give the orders, they follow them and we weather the storms. If I’m suddenly not there they won’t know what to do.”
“You should give them a bit more credit, maybe they already know what to do without your orders.”
“Maybe,” Reyna conceded, shrugging her shoulders. “But still, I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”
“Don’t stress, Rey, it’s no biggie. Just a casual dinner. Now,” John stood, pushing back his chair, “time to go kohlrabi hunting.”
“Dig in,” John said as he joined them at the table with the last bowl of steaming soup.
Reyna dipped her spoon in and tasted a mouthful, letting the warm broth roll over her tongue. “Delicious,” she pronounced.
“Have you thought of joining the soup club at work, John?” Yana asked.
In what was clearly a setup, she had been seated directly across the table from Reyna and seemed to feel it was her duty to smile toothily at her as often as possible. Her hair was cut short and spiky at the back, with a wispy blond fringe set across her brow. Friendly blue eyes and a petite mouth flashed Reyna a complicit smile. “I don’t believe the office is aware of your hidden talents.”
“Yes, I am mostly underestimated in life,” John sighed.
“Oh, poor baby.” Samira patted his hand. As Jessie and Gideon noisily slurped their soup she said, “Anyway, it’s clearly a hit tonight. It’s not a race, Jessie. Just eat it nicely.”
“Which bit is the ’rabi stuff?” Holden asked, studying his bowl suspiciously.
“Yeah, I can’t see it,” Jessie agreed.
“If you could see the secret ingredient it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, now would it? It’s in there, boys. You’ll just have to trust me.” John tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.
Holden took a dainty sip, his face a picture of misgivings. “Tastes like minestrone,” he declared, dipping his spoon in for a much larger mouthful. “It’s good.”
“You sound surprised,” John said, his voice filled with mock hurt.
“More bread?” Gideon mumbled through a mouthful.
“Me too, please. Aunty Rey, can you pass it?”
Reyna handed Holden the breadbasket, taking in the scene before her. A feeling of warmth spread through her that had little to do with the soup. Her heart felt suddenly like it was too big for her chest, an overwhelming rush of emotion coming over her. This was family. This was what it was to share your life with others, to invite people in, to eat food together and tease each other. There was dinner with her parents of course, but it was different, to be sitting here as an adult, with a family of her own (tiny as it was), joking and teasing. She had not realised this was missing from her life until now. How terrible that it had taken the loss of her sister’s life to show her how empty her own life had been. She suddenly missed Sarit fiercely, searching Holden’s face for a glimpse of her.
“What?” Holden asked, his spoon paused between his bowl and his mouth. “Why are you staring?”
Reyna shook her head. “It’s nothing, darling.” Tears prickled her eyes and she pushed back her chair. “Just popping to the bathroom,” she said with a bright smile, her voice sounding forced to her own ears.
In the bathroom she took deep slow breaths, dabbing her eyes with a damp cloth. She didn’t want to go back out to the table looking like a tearful mess. It would be embarrassing in front of a total stranger. Sarit’s death stabbed at her like this every now and then. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Holden was managing to keep it together. Whenever she tried to raise the subject, he would deflect, preferring to talk about school or soccer or a video game he was interested in. But Reyna knew. A new school, a new home, a new parent. He had been through so much change, so much loss, and so much grief it was an overwhelming cocktail of difficulty for a child. And yet his resilience was shining through, as he stubbornly refused to buckle under the pain, joining in at school and soccer, making friends and adapting to his new routines. The nightmares provided the biggest insight into his struggle to process things. She would regularly wake up to hear him calling for his mother and father, finding him curled up in a tight little ball in his bed, forehead sweaty and hot tears streaking down his cheeks. She would hold him firmly like he was a puppy, careful not to crush him as she rocked him gently. His arms would steal around her and he would sob, sometimes telling her it wasn’t fair, his voice breaking over the words, sometimes without w
ords at all.
It was time to try again with the counselling. She had not wanted to push him too hard when she had first brought him home. She thought it would be best to give him time to settle, let him come to her if he wanted to talk. But now she felt it was time to try again. It wouldn’t do for his emotions to get locked up inside. She had tried sending him to a counsellor not long after she had brought him home, but he had dug his heels in, refusing to speak with the stranger who asked him what he felt were prying questions.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t want to go, Aunty Rey. His office smells like old people. Please don’t make me.”
“I can find someone else, sweet pea. It doesn’t have to be this guy. How about I ask around for a recommendation?”
“No.” He was quietly adamant. “I don’t want to go.”
And so she had let him have his way, feeling it would be more scarring to force him to keep going than to hit the pause button on things for a bit. But lately she had been reading books about helping kids through grief and decided that she really needed some professional support. She would try to find a new psychologist. He could not be left to muddle his way through with just her for support.
She dabbed her eyes once more and took a gulp of water from the tap. She should go back or they would wonder what had happened to her.
Samira gave her a searching look as she retook her seat at the table. Reyna returned a quick nod as she tucked back into her soup. It really was delicious.
“My full compliments to the chef,” she said, nodding at John. “Doesn’t even need salt.”
He shook his head and turned to Yana. “Reyna spoils everything with mountains of salt. Sometimes I swear I can hear her arteries groaning across the table.”
“Vegetarians can have as much salt as they like,” Reyna said.
John rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”
“No, really. Meats are full of salt so I figure by not eating meat I’m free to up the salt content of everything else I eat. And my arteries are doing just fine, thank you.”
“Well, I’d rather have my arteries shrivel up and die than stop eating meat,” Yana said. “I don’t know how you do it. I know I should probably eat less meat but I just can’t.”
Reyna felt a familiar twinge of irritation. This was one of those annoying things people always said to vegetarians. It wasn’t like she was some kind of superhero. She’d just chosen to stop eating meat.
“What are hearteries?” Jessie asked, tipping his bowl up to his mouth to slurp the last drops of his soup.
“My apologies for the caveman manners,” Samira said to Yana. “Arteries are the tubes in your heart that send the blood to your body, darling.”
“Oh, I’m used to it,” Yana replied. “I grew up with six brothers.”
“Six!” Reyna exclaimed, appalled at the thought. “How on earth did your parents keep up? Seven children!”
“Eight, actually. I have a sister as well.”
“You could almost have your own soccer team,” Holden said admiringly.
Yana cocked her head to the side, thoughtfully. “Really? We never thought of that.”
“You’re allowed to play with only seven,” Gideon said encouragingly.
“I must remember to tell them that at Christmas.”
“Oh my gosh, Christmas!” Samira exclaimed. “How do you manage all the presents?”
“We do a Kris Kringle. My parents realised early on that it would break the bank for everyone to buy each person a Christmas present, not to mention now all the children and spouses. These days we have to hire a hall for Christmas lunch just to fit everyone in.”
Reyna took a moment to absorb that, trying to imagine her own little family eating lunch in a cavernous hall. When she and Sarit were little, her parents had explained they were agnostic. Their mother, born in Israel, had been raised according to the Jewish traditions, and their father had come from Cairo, son of a strict Coptic Christian family. They had met on a university gap year in England and after falling in love and deciding to marry against their parents’ wishes, had settled on raising a nonreligious family, avoiding all religious events entirely. Instead they had created their own calendar of special events, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and the turning of the seasons. Instead of Christmas they had a summer party each year, celebrating the beginning of the warm weather and long summer to come. There had been plenty of gift giving at each celebration, so they hadn’t felt like they were missing out, and Reyna had enjoyed it. She would have to decide what she and Holden were going to do this year, she realised suddenly, glancing at him. It would be Christmas in a few months and she had no idea if he would be expecting to celebrate it.
“Do we do Christmas, Aunty Rey?” he asked as if reading her mind.
“Er, I’m not sure,” she stammered, aware that their conversation would sound strange to Yana’s ears. “We can. Why don’t we work it out over breakfast tomorrow?”
He nodded, tearing another chunk of bread from the loaf in front of him.
“Can we play Nintendo now?” Gideon asked, pushing his empty bowl over to his mother.
Samira slid his bowl back to him. “If you clear the table properly.”
Gideon grinned, catching his bowl.
“Cheeky thing,” she muttered with a shake of her head.
“Wait, what about dessert?” Jessie asked, looking expectantly between his parents.
“What about your manners?”
“Sorry Mum. But are we…no, could we…um, please may we have dessert?”
“We’ll call you back for dessert in a little while. We’re not quite ready yet,” she replied.
“Thanks, Mum. You’re the best.” He snatched up his bowl, giving her a resounding kiss as he left the table.
“So, that’s what it takes to get affection around here then, huh?” John said. “Where’s mine? I made the soup, you know.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dad.” Jessie dropped his bowl in the dishwasher and cantered out of the room. “Come on, Holden. Super Mario challenge!”
Gideon raced after Jessie with Holden following behind. “Bags being Yoshi.”
“Let’s see if we can rescue the Princess.”
John sighed. “Parenting. It’s a thankless task.”
“Oh, to be young again,” Yana said, smiling across the table to Reyna. “When all you needed to do was rescue the princess in time for dessert.”
“I don’t know,” Reyna countered. “I think a Princess might be quite hard work once you brought her home.”
“You’re absolutely right. My last girlfriend was a total princess and it was a nightmare.”
“I know what you mean,” John agreed. “Ow!” he cried, copping an elbow in the ribs from Samira. “I didn’t mean you, sweetheart. I was talking about Crista. Remember her?”
“How could I forget Crista? She practically had you on a leash.”
“I was dating Crista when I met Samira,” John explained to Yana. “She was, well, a bit restrictive.”
Reyna snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. It’s a wonder she let you break up with her at all.”
“Yes, well, she didn’t exactly,” John said, looking sheepish.
“What?”
“I told her I had been called away with the Peace Corps and wouldn’t be back for a long time. So she broke up with me.”
“Yes, and we couldn’t go out anywhere for a whole year because he was terrified we would bump into her.”
“Well, how would I have explained it to her?”
“Sounds like a lucky getaway,” Yana said. “Wish I’d been so clever as to think of the Peace Corps. What about you, Reyna? Any lucky escapes?”
“One or two,” she shrugged noncommittally. “No major disasters.”
“I doubt Karen would agree with that,” Samira muttered.
Yana raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
Reyna shot a frown at Samira. Why was she bringing up Karen? Sure, that
breakup had been a bit messy, but Reyna had dealt with things as best she could. The timing had been bad. Azoulay House was still in its infancy and she had little time for anything else. It had taken her a while to notice that Karen was drinking heavily and behaving erratically. They had even been considering living together when she had let herself in to Karen’s apartment late one night after a work function to find her firmly in the arms of another. Reyna was shocked, but if she was honest with herself, not entirely heartbroken. Karen had been the angry one at first, claiming Reyna was cold. Reyna never gave her enough attention. Reyna was stuck up. And then she had turned contrite, begging Reyna’s forgiveness, telling her they could work it out.
“I love you, baby,” she had cried, clinging to Reyna like a child in a storm.
“It’s not going to work out, Karen,” Reyna said gently, extricating herself from the limpet-like embrace. “You’re right. I’m too distracted. I’ve just got too much going on right now to give you the attention you deserve.”
“We could move in together.”
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”
“Why not? We’re so good together, baby.”
“Karen.” Reyna was firm. “I walked in on you having sex with someone else. That didn’t feel like we were so good together.”
Karen had been inconsolable for months, turning up at Reyna’s house in the middle of the night to beg for another chance, becoming angry and accusatory when Reyna did not relent. She had been worried that Karen would come to Azoulay House, but thankfully she never did. Eventually, after one disastrous night when she found Karen swaying on her doorstep with a bottle of scotch in one hand and a large knife in the other, she seemed to have scared herself, and she hadn’t come back.
“I’m sure Karen would agree that we ended things as best we could,” Reyna said coolly. “Break-ups are never entirely a walk in the park.”
“Yes, but what happened? Why did this poor Karen think it was a disaster?” Yana’s gossip-hungry tone grated on Reyna. Karen may have been crazy, but she didn’t deserve to have it paraded around like some kind of trashy story.