by Odette Stone
Me: Getting sick of dog pictures yet?
Jasper: Sniper is the cutest dog in the world. Keep them coming.
Me: Are you back in SanFran yet?
Jasper: Still in New York. Home in a few days.
Me: How is Mark???
Jasper: Hot. Too hot to talk about on text. My phone might melt.
Me: We need a big phone chat.
Jasper: How is it going with The Savage?
What could I say about Mica? He treated me better than I had ever been treated in my life, even though our relationship remained completely platonic. Yes, we were starting to form a friendship, but it was more than that. This was Mica as a husband. He showered me with the utmost care and respect simply because we were married. It didn’t matter to him that our marriage was in name only—his consideration of me was over the top. I had never met a man who acted like that before. And it was messing with my emotions.
Me: It’s complicated.
Jasper: You okay?
Me: Yup.
Jasper: Damn, girlfriend. Last call for warmups. I need to head in.
Me: Call me when you get back to SanFran.
Jasper: I will.
I put my phone down and looked at Sniper. “Ready for your bedtime walk?”
Sniper stood up and moved to the door then looked over his shoulder with a dog smile on his face. God, I loved my dog. He was the sweetest, most sensitive dog in the world. He made being alone bearable. After our walk, I decided to have a bath in my bathroom before I went to bed. I ran the water and sighed as I stepped into the warmth. Sniper lay on the bathroom floor, his chin on his paws, his eyes closed.
Christmas was coming up in a week, and Zoey told me that the team had four days off over the holiday. Zoey and Ryan were heading for a quick trip to Saskatchewan to see Ryan’s mom. Mica hadn’t talked about the holidays, so I wasn’t sure if he wanted to celebrate. I debated asking him if he wanted to cook a turkey dinner with me, but fretted that he would see me as trying to play house with him. There was always this weird balancing act. Sometimes I fell into this lull where I started to believe this was real. Other times, I worked to keep an emotional distance and not get too close. I actively worked not to rely on Mica, but he made it hard.
The tinkle of dog tags made me open my eyes. Sniper was standing up and staring into the bedroom. Alert and intense. A prickle of fear coated my skin.
“What is it, Sniper?”
Sniper didn’t look at me. He twitched his ears and leaned forward, listening intently. I stood up and grabbed a towel, before wrapping my housecoat around me. Sniper took off in a dead run out of the bathroom.
“Sniper!” I almost slipped on the bathroom floor.
I ran after him and heard him barking loudly in the living room, his head in between the curtains. Something outside had his attention. With trepidation, I crept up to the big windows and slowly drew the blinds back. I couldn’t see anything in the dark.
“Sniper, quiet,” I commanded.
He immediately sat and stopped barking.
I moved to the side and flicked on all the back lights so the deck was flooded in light.
I stifled a scream.
A menacing, towering figure was propped up in the middle of the deck. It looked like a homemade evil scarecrow. It was at least seven feet tall with a long black coat that hung to the ground. Arms made of stick and straw stuck out from its body, giving it the appearance of having claws for hands. Its face was something out of a horror movie. A burlap sack stitched together so it had dark black eyes, a puckered mouth, and a pointy nose.
I slammed the curtains shut before running to the front door to make sure the alarm system was on.
“Check the house,” I told Sniper.
I followed as he systematically moved from room to room, standing on his hind legs to look out the windows before determining that the threat was gone.
He was now lying on the floor with one of his stuffed toys between his paws, eyes shut. I decided not to text Mica. He would be home tomorrow morning and I could just show him. There was no point in sending him any details.
I poured myself a glass of wine and paced. Was this Yazimoto? Whoever it was had a beef with me, because this shit only happened when I was home alone. The fact that someone knew I was home alone freaked me out.
You’re safe. Sniper will keep you safe.
I woke up to the sound of the front door beeping.
“Hey, boy. How are you? I missed you, you know that?” Mica’s voice sounded from the kitchen. I smiled into my pillow at the sound of his voice.
Wanting to see him, I slipped out of his bed and walked down the hallway. Mica was crouched down, giving Sniper a good face rub. He looked good. Tired but good.
“You’re home early. You could have called me to pick you up.”
He stood up, and his blue eyes watched me as I walked into the kitchen. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, so I crossed my arms over my body and smiled instead.
“We flew in earlier than planned, so I just took a cab home.”
“You must be tired.”
“I slept on the plane.” He studied me. “How are you?”
I nodded and moved to the kitchen to put on some coffee. “Good. Do you want some breakfast?”
Sniper moved to the back door and Mica followed him to let him out.
“Mica,” I tried to warn him, belatedly remembering last night’s event.
He pulled back the curtains and a stream of Russian came out of him. He looked over his shoulder at me. “What the fuck?”
I came around the island and stood beside him. The scarecrow was no less scary in the morning light.
“Last night Sniper warned me something was going on. I opened the curtains, and that was there.”
Mica stood completely still, staring at the scarecrow. His nostrils were flared in anger. I watched in fascination as he swallowed all that angry emotion down before he turned to me with true concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry this is happening, Charlie.”
“It’s not your fault.”
He started to say something but his phone interrupted him. His face hardened when he saw the caller. “I have to take this.”
I wandered back to the kitchen to finish putting the coffee on while he stepped onto the deck, speaking in Russian. He sounded upset, angry even.
He reappeared in front of the island, his voice super serious. “We have a situation.”
Did this have to do with his mysterious Russian friends?
“Okay.”
He grimaced. “My mom found out I was married. She’s coming for a visit.”
“Your mom?” I repeated, dumbfounded.
“Yeah.” He did not look happy.
“When is she coming?”
“She’s at the airport. She’s taking a cab and will be here in about twenty-five minutes.”
“What?” I froze.
“She usually stays in a hotel but this time, she is insisting she stays here. She wants to get to know you.”
“But she knows this marriage is… temporary, right?”
He winced. “Not exactly. She would never understand that.”
I couldn’t judge. I had no idea what kind of relationship he had with his parents. “Okay, that’s okay.”
“You sure?”
I looked towards my bedroom. There were two guest rooms, but only one of them had furniture. “Where is she going to sleep?”
He paused and faltered. “Can we give her the guest room?”
Which meant I would sleep in the master bedroom. I didn’t even want to think about that, but I would do anything I could to help Mica out. “Of course.”
I would deal with sharing a bed later on.
“We need to move your stuff into my room and make it look like we are together.” He sounded pained.
“What time did you say she’s going to be here?”
He glanced at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes?”
Together we hustled. I cle
ared out my entire closet, moving all my clothes into Mica’s closet. Same with my dressers. I worked to erase all traces of myself from the guest room. Mica cleaned the bathroom and changed the linens.
When the room looked picture-perfect, Mica checked his watch. “We have about five minutes.”
“I need to shower.” I raced into his bedroom. It felt strangely intimate to use Mica’s shower and see my toothbrush lined up next to his. While I got dressed, I could hear a female voice speaking in Russian.
I took a deep breath and moved around the corner. She was a beautiful older woman. Her hair was jet black, and she had the same angular features that Mica had along with identical bright blue eyes. She looked polished. Diamonds glittered in her ears, and she had multiple huge rings on her fingers. Her clothes looked like they were haute couture, and she held a squirming, fluffy white puppy in her arms.
Mica looked up at me and her eyes followed. She studied me back, no expression on her face.
“Mother, this is Charlie, my wife.”
Her accent was heavy. “So, this is my new daughter.”
I felt inexplicably nervous. I worked a smile on my face. “Hello.”
She snapped her fingers. “Come here. Let me see you.”
Wishing I had opted for something more fashionable than jeans and a sweater, I moved to stand closer.
She stepped forward and looked me over before speaking to Mica in Russian. I made eye contact with him.
Mica spoke in English. “Charlie only speaks in English.”
“I am Mica’s mother, but you can call me Yelena.” She stepped forward and held up the puppy. “This is for you.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice. “Thank you.”
She put the squirming ball of fluff in my arms. “His name is Sasha. He is a purebred Samoyed.”
I lifted the puppy up to my face and looked into his round black eyes. He was adorable. I smiled and kissed his face. “I love him.”
“She’s on the thin side, and something needs to be done with that hair, but she’s cute.”
I froze, realizing she was talking about me.
“Mother,” Mica warned.
“Mica, please move my bags to my room.”
I cuddled the puppy as Mica, without speaking, began to move the half-dozen Louis Vuitton bags that were stacked at the door.
“Would you like some coffee or some breakfast?” I offered, valiantly trying to get us on the right foot.
She ignored me. “Mica, when are you going to move out of here into a place more respectable? You’re no longer a bachelor. You need a real home.”
He responded in Russian.
I set the puppy down on the floor. Sniper crouched down and inched towards the puppy, reaching with his nose to sniff. His tail was going crazy. In response, the puppy squatted and peed on the floor. Mica walked by with some bags.
“He’s not house trained yet, but that is good training for you. First a puppy and then babies.”
I hid my face as I bent over to wipe up the mess with a paper towel. When I stood up, she eyed me critically. “Are you pregnant yet?”
Holy shit. I looked towards the guest bedroom, willing Mica to return. “Um, no.”
“Are you sure?” She stared at me. “Sometimes women don’t know.”
Pretty sure. “I’m focused on my career.”
“What do you do?”
“I work at a sports agency.”
“Pssht. Mica has enough money. Your job is to make big, healthy babies for him and to stay home and make a nice home for him.”
I had no idea how to respond to that. “I like my career.”
She dramatically rolled her eyes. “You need to focus on my son. Are you planning on breastfeeding?”
I felt like I was in some kind of nightmare. “Excuse me?”
“Breast is best.” She pulled a silver cigarette container out of her purse. “Do you smoke?”
I shook my head.
“Mica tells me all the time that I need to smoke outside.” She called to the dogs. “Come on, puppies. Outside we go.”
Sniper looked at me with a question on his face.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can go.”
I watched as she let herself out to the back deck. She studied the scarecrow without reaction.
Mica appeared beside me. “How is it going?”
I turned on him, not even trying to hide the desperate notes in my voice. “You have to tell her the truth.”
“I can’t.”
I hissed in his face. “She’s talking to me about quitting my job, making big babies with you and breastfeeding.”
His eyebrows shot up comically. “Uh.”
“Tell her we are not even thinking about having kids and that is your decision. Not mine.”
“She knows I don’t want kids.”
That shocked me. It’s not like I was ready to have kids, but they were always in my hazy future. He sounded pretty damn sure about his decision. “Fine. Remind her of that.”
He looked grim.
I know it sounded dramatic, but I added under my breath, “Do not leave me alone with her. You don’t get to leave, and if you do, you take her with you.”
He sighed. “I know she’s a lot.”
“Mica!” His mom called from the balcony. “Who bought this patio furniture?”
He walked to the balcony door and spoke to her. I stood watching as they talked, and then he came walking back to me.
“What’s wrong with the patio furniture?”
“She said it looks cheap.”
I had no idea how to deal with this woman. Her only saving grace was that she was Mica’s mother, and for that reason alone, I would be as gracious as possible with her.
“Do you still want breakfast?”
“Let me help.” Together we cooked breakfast.
“I was talking to my friend, Jasper.”
Mica stirred the potatoes in the pan. “You’ve mentioned him a few times.”
“We’ve been friends since I was in grade seven. He lives in San Francisco. He’s a dancer.”
Mica glanced at me but didn’t speak.
“Would it be okay if I invited him for a visit?”
“Sure.”
His mom came back inside and stood beside me. “You’re whipping the eggs wrong.” I stepped back as she took the whisk out of my hand. “Flip them up like this, to get air into them.”
I ground my teeth. “Thank you.”
She looked around the kitchen. “I think I should give you some cooking lessons.”
I willed Mica to look at me, but he kept his back to the conversation. “That would be lovely.”
“My son needs some decent Russian food. That is your job now.”
I flipped those eggs so hard they foamed, but I didn’t speak.
While we ate, Yelena only spoke Russian to Mica. Mica responded in English, so I got half the conversation. It seemed like they were mostly talking about things that happened back home.
She switched to English, probably to make sure I understood the conversation.
“When are my grandbabies coming?”
Mica’s expression darkened. He spoke with complete conviction. “We’re not having a family.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He stood up and picked up his plate and my own. “End of discussion.”
She stood up and followed him into the kitchen. “You have to have children. You have a responsibility to this family.”
I lifted my head in interest. He scraped the plates, ignoring her.
“Mica.” She spoke sharply. “You can’t decide not to have children.”
“This isn’t news to you.”
“You were young. Now you are a man. You need to be thinking of your future.”
He wiped his hands on the towel and looked at her. “I am.”
“Everyone wants children.”
“Some people shouldn’t have children. I
’m one of those people.”
She raised her hand and pointed at me. “What about your wife? She wants babies.”
Mica froze and turned to look at me. My eyes went wide.
“Drop the baby talk,” he warned.
To my horror, she began to cry. “This is all my fault.”
I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, but I was all ears.
“It’s not your fault. It’s just the way it is.”
“You need to let her go.”
Let who go?
“Enough!” He threw the towel into the sink and then stalked across the living room and moved outside. I turned in my seat to watch him. He savagely picked up the scarecrow and threw it off the deck.
“I’ve upset my son.”
I didn’t respond. Mica jumped off the balcony and started to tear apart the scarecrow.
“Now he’s wrecking your Halloween decoration,” she said sadly.
Wild laughter bubbled out of me. I worked to stop it. “That’s okay.”
“I’m going to my room now. You should go calm him down.”
There was no calming Mica down. I stood on the deck and watched as he systematically dismantled the scarecrow, tearing it from limb to limb before kicking apart the wooden frame with his foot.
He jumped on the deck with ease and stared at me as he came towards me. He was like a black sun, throwing off emotions like it was his full-time job. I stepped back and watched as he walked through the living room. He picked up his wallet and keys, and with one dark look back at me, he disappeared out the front door.
Mica didn’t come back for dinner, and even Yelena seemed to sense that she had taken it a step too far. I didn’t understand why both of them had gotten so upset, but she wasn’t talking about it. Instead, she picked up Sasha, cradled him to her chest like a baby and watched me cook dinner.
“You love my son.”
It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t know how to respond. “Mica is Mica.”
She nodded in approval, as if that was an answer to her non-question. “Even as a boy, he knew who he was. Headstrong, feisty, and so emotional. He was like a little tornado that whirled from place to place, destroying things like only a little boy can destroy.”
I tried to imagine my huge husband as a boy and failed. “He doesn’t talk about his childhood.”