by Lizzy Ford
“Wow! Paintball!” he exclaims, reading the one-month schedule eagerly. “And basketball.” The glow in his gaze starts to fade. “Claudia won’t agree, Petr.”
“She already did.”
“Really?” His look is indecipherable, the emotions too deep and quick for me to pin them down.
“Yep. She wants you to be happy.”
He starts to smile. “I’ve always wanted to be in sports. All the other guys at school know how to play soccer and football and go do paintball on the weekends. I can’t believe she said yes. You’re sure?”
“Positive. You can double check with her if you want.”
“I believe you,” he murmurs. “And you’ll come with me to all these things, too?”
“Of course.”
“My dad died when I was eight and Claudia has to work all the time. I’ve never had anyone to go with me anywhere.”
His words are hushed without being sad, and he seems more awed than depressed. I can sense how lonely he’s been but resist the urge to address the issue of why head on. Suffice it to say, he’s been alone long enough that a simple schedule appears to be the best news he’s received in his life.
“I couldn’t imagine growing up without my dad,” I say, genuinely troubled by the newfound fact about his life. It’s a reminder I don’t know much about either of them, not where they’re from or whether their childhoods were happy or not.
“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “I miss him during Christmas. Do you miss your mom and brother?”
“Always.” I glance at him. “You have Claudia. She’s an incredible woman.”
“She’s all right, I guess.” He snorts. “Kinda bossy sometimes.”
I laugh. My mind races. Todd needs more help than I originally thought. I assess he’s never known stability and wonder if he realizes how different he really is. Sweet, thoughtful, protective of his sister yet also a little lost, Todd is a good kid to the core, one who would have to believe his life was in inevitable danger in order to do something illegal like buy a weapon under the table.
Oblivious to my darker thoughts, he’s studying the calendar. “What’s the entry on the fifteenth?” he asks.
“Visiting the VA hospital and local soldiers’ home. We’ll have to take you out of school to go with me.”
“You want me to go with you?” He sounds amazed.
“Definitely. You can help me find candidates for the limb replacement program.”
“Wow.”
His unguarded expression is close to one of worship as he gazes at me. It makes me laugh even harder this time. The kid has never had anyone take an interest in him, which is unfortunate but one of the rare actions I can take to help them both.
I pull up to the curb of his apartment building and park. “So we good? You like the schedule.”
“I love it!”
“Great. Let your sis know. I’ll pick you up at the diner, same time tomorrow.”
With an eager nod, Todd grabs his bag and hops out. He slams the door behind him and leaves, trotting down the snow-cleared sidewalk towards the building. I wave back and flip on the windshield wipers to prevent snow from building up on my windshield.
When he’s inside, I pull away, deep in thought. Todd has never had a positive male role model. It pleases me to be able to provide this for him. What disturbs me: fearing Claudia means to move again, destabilize Todd and well … expand the ache lingering in my chest from her retraction this morning.
Chapter Fourteen: Petr
Baba accompanies me to the diner the next morning, portfolio in hand. We’re sitting for ten minutes before Claudia arrives. I know she likes my father, and her smile grows wider when she sees him. Her reaction to him is far less shocked than most women I’ve brought home to meet him. If anything, she seems to find him funny, the way I do, rather than feeling on the spot about his constant attempts to marry me off. When I was a teen, his efforts horrified and mortified me, and Mikael refused to bring anyone home for a seven-year stretch.
In my early twenties, I learned to watch the reaction of the woman I was with as one of the ways to gauge both her interest and how good she was with my father. Family is important to me, and any woman who doesn’t get along with Baba isn’t going to be around for long.
The moment Claudia enters, he waves her over. She approaches with two mugs of coffee and my pie. In truth, I’m almost grateful Baba is here today. I’m a little raw from yesterday, a little less able to force a smile than usual. There’s a new kind of tension between Claudia and me, one I chalk up to emotional restraint. It doesn’t feel good, like stretching towards someone standing on the other side of a chasm but never reaching them.
“Here is my project for you,” Baba tells her.
She glances at me. “Anton, are you sure you don’t want someone with more experience to do this?”
“No.”
“He wants you.” I wink at her and am satisfied with pink fills her cheeks. She averts her gaze from mine, though I catch the movement of her wringing her hands in her apron.
“Christmas cards,” Baba proclaims. “They must have the following: a Russian reindeer, a tree, red and green color scheme, and they must not be sappy.”
Her brow furrows. “Russian reindeer?”
“He’s offended by the image of caribou on cards,” I explain. “Real reindeer come from Russia and nowhere else, right, Baba?”
“Correct,” Baba says and sips his coffee. “Here are pictures of reindeer.” He hands her the portfolio.
She accepts it. “Okay. I, uh, I’ll work on it,” Claudia says, a bit baffled. “When do you need it by?”
“A week. You have a computer?”
“An old one. It should work fine.”
“Petr, give her your computer,” Baba orders me.
“No, it’s okay,” she flashes a smile. “If I need his computer, I can let him know.”
Baba nods, satisfied. I’m trying not to laugh at the oddball task, knowing full well why this bizarre project is being levied in the first place. It has nothing to do with Christmas cards and everything to do with the fact Baba likes Claudia. Claudia, for her part, is being sweet about it. Baba’s tried similar tricks with girlfriends of mine and Mikael’s and either been laughed off, ignored or told outright no.
Not that I blamed them. He comes up with some loopy stuff, and it took me a while to understand he’s testing everyone who enters our lives. It’s a combination of the natural distrust of people ingrained in him from his years in the spy business and his love for his kids. In hindsight, I realize the women who refused the tests were universally ill matched to Mikael and me.
I think Claudia has been one of only two women in my life who agreed. The other was Brianna, though I think she did it more to curb favor than to help my father, which is why I’m guessing Claudia agrees.
I meet her gaze, and we study each other long enough for the quiet to become awkward and my father to notice. Shifting, Claudia clears her throat.
“Thanks for taking Todd out last night,” she says. “He talked about it for almost an hour.”
“He’ll do great,” I reply. “He’s a natural.”
Baba is looking closely between the two of us.
Claudia nods and moves away.
“Looks complicated,” Baba observes, always alert and sharp despite his age and attempt to play the occasional fool.
“That’s an understatement,” I reply.
“I bought you a week.” He stands. “Good luck.”
Lifting my coffee mug in salute, I watch him leave, entertained. I understand Claudia’s fascination – if not affection for – my father better today after learning her own dad is dead. She returns to refill my mug.
“Time for the daily question,” I say. “Dinner?”
“Ask me tomorrow.” An almost smile tugs up the corner of her lips.
“I will.”
Shortly after she returns to the counter, I pay my bill and leave.
There ar
e no class visits today, so I change into my uniform and head to the recruitment center. This time of year is slow for recruiting with each of the three soldiers assigned here beginning through two-week vacation rotations.
“Got another one, Petr,” the man holding down the fort calls as I walk in from the chilly morning. “Every time you do a school visit, someone signs up. Paperwork’s on your desk!”
“Great.” I sit down and start entering information into the system.
The day drags. Katya sends me a text-novel promising to bring Sawyer for Christmas and includes a list of cookies she wants the chef to make. Brianna tells me she’s made it to New York, and Todd’s messages are about paintballing tonight. There’s a reminder from my doctor about my monthly checkup, and emails from college friends and buddies from the military who might be passing through Glory Glade over the holidays.
I hit the gym around two and am ready to pick up Todd at four as promised. He’s too excited to ask me this night if I’m stopping in to say hi to his sister.
We head to paintball, where the kid who seemed coordinated last night ends up unable to fire a weapon and move at the same time. I haven’t laughed this hard since before Mikael’s death, and Todd leaves the two-hour event with a black eye, red and green paint in his hair and a huge grin.
“That was the best thing ever!” he exclaims happily.
“Is your sis going to let you come back?” I ask as we get into the truck.
“I hope so.” He touches his eye. “Ow!”
“Ice and ibuprofen.”
“Oh, I know. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten beat up.”
“You get bullied in school or something?”
“No.” His expression grows shuttered for a moment before he brightens. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Karate again.”
“Awesome.”
He subsides into texting, and I drive him home, amused, and drop him off.
I’m half afraid of what Claudia will say the next morning about bringing her brother home with a shiner. Baba doesn’t go with me this time, and I wait for Claudia to lecture me or scold me or something about Todd’s eye.
She brings me my usual with a quick smile. “Todd had a blast last night,” she says.
“Your hair looks cute,” I reply, eyes on the bun she’s sporting in place of a ponytail. Her makeup is a tad heavier today, too. I can’t think it’s for me. She can’t be rejecting me daily and more interested in her appearance for my sake, too.
“Thanks.” She tucks the ever-present stray hair behind her ear, cheeks rosy. “I didn’t have time to wash it this morning.”
“No comment about his eye?”
“He’s a boy who went to paintball,” she replies. “I have no right to yell at you anyway. You’re doing me a favor.”
“It’s not a favor. I enjoy spending time with him.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “No one enjoys spending time with a fourteen year old.”
I laugh. “All right. You caught me. I’m doing it for you.”
“Eat your pie.” She marches away.
“Dinner?” I call after her.
“Ask me tomorrow!”
Smiling, I watch the way her hips swing and admire the length of her legs before digging into my breakfast. I’d like to think this is a game of cat and mouse, that the stakes are nothing more than dinner. But I know better or at least, I suspect there’s a lot more at risk for her than dinner.
I put on my scarf a short time later, ready to leave, when she returns with the portfolio Baba gave her yesterday. With some hesitation, she sits across from me, nibbling on her lower lip.
“Promise not to laugh if these suck?” she asks.
“Sure. You have mockups already?”
She nods.
For someone trying to push me away, she somehow manages to compel me closer daily. I look at her too long once more.
“I had time,” she says as if trying to brush off the fact she spent her little free time working on my father’s project.
“Show me,” I say and lean forward.
She opens the portfolio. “I had to print these at FedEx since we don’t have a printer, and their ink on one of the machine was low,” she murmurs. “I made four distinct versions, all to his specifications.”
With some nervousness, she sets out four card samples. I study each, struggling not to smile and wanting so badly to wrap my arms around her for a hug. She has no idea how well she’s passing my father’s test.
The cheerful cards are each distinct: one serious, two fun with completely different designs and one that looks post modern with simple lines, subdued colors and faded graphics.
“It’s okay if you don’t like them,” she says at my silence. “I’m a bit out of practice.”
“These are beautiful.” I rest my hand over one of hers without looking up. “How long did these take you?” I ask.
“Not long.”
I meet her gaze.
She flushes. “All night.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Claudia.”
“You didn’t have to take care of Todd.”
“I care about both of you. Comes with the territory.” I smile to hopefully take away the gravitas of our exchange.
She’s staring at the cards.
“Besides,” I say more lightly. “Todd keeps me on my feet. Helps me work off all the pie I eat here.”
“I’m glad you like them,” she says finally. “I have the designs saved if you want to show him.”
“I’ll bring him by tomorrow, if that works for you.”
She nods. “You think he’ll like them?”
“He’ll love them.”
Claudia smiles and stands. She gathers the samples, hesitates, then rests her hand on mine and looks me in the eye. “You give me hope, Petr.” Without another word, she leaves.
I’m not sure what that means exactly except it should be a good thing. Even if it is, it’s not landing me a date with her yet. I’m not naturally a patient person, but the past two years have taught me the value in not rushing something good.
I leave, warmed by the demonstration of kindness towards my father.
Chapter Fifteen: Petr
Breakfast at the diner, the occasional school visit, paperwork at the recruitment center, and evening activities with Todd. Two weeks pass in this manner. The highlight of my day remains seeing Claudia smile, even if we don’t have the opportunity for more than a greeting.
It’s almost become a game between Baba’s odd projects and Claudia’s ability to finish them within a day or two. He’s had to get more creative, because he thinks the projects are giving me a chance to woo her. I know how smart she is, but seeing how quickly she designs is an eye opener. She has real talent, the kind that should see her working somewhere other than a diner.
Baba’s projects are fun and creative, and she seems to enjoy the challenge. I start to recognize the rhyme and reason behind them while she doesn’t yet. I haven’t been able to open up to Baba about her, though I think he suspects there are issues, or he wouldn’t be working so hard to invent new projects.
If anything, I think she’s the one charming him. We’ve reached a sort of equilibrium, a routine I’d call far from normal yet stable all the same. Todd is happy, which should help Claudia relax.
It doesn’t, and she seems no closer to accepting an invitation to dinner with me, either. Every once in a while, I see the look of yearning she directs my way when she thinks I won’t notice, the same mix of regret, hope and resignation I’ve discovered since being sidelined from operations.
The days pass slowly, the weeks quickly, and the town shifts into full-fledged holiday mode a week and a half before Christmas. The December snows add to the nostalgia, and with the major holiday coming, I’m also busier with planning my father’s annual Christmas party.
On the fifteenth, I sign Todd out of school after my daily diner visit for the promised visits to the VA medical center and the local soldier
’s home. I stay in uniform for this one.
We go to the VA center first, where I introduce Todd to the other volunteers doing walk thrus. After a quick tour, I clam down any sense of dread and take him to the wing with the soldiers newly discharged because of their injuries.
The open bay style ward is full. Some of the service members await transfers while others wait for additional surgery, limb replacement or recovery services, physical therapy candidates, overnight stays, and so on.
I take him to a Marine with a bullet lodged in his spine that’s rendered him paralyzed from the waist down. The lesson I want to teach Todd is harsh but necessary, and one I think he needs. We play and have fun most of the time, so our rapport and relationship is open enough that I can judge if he becomes too upset.
The Marine, Corporal Lance, is accustomed to speaking with visitors. He’s personable and leads tours of the hospital and is unlike any other jarhead I’ve ever worked with.
“Hey, Gunny,” he greets me using Marine Corps slang for my rank. With close-cropped dark hair and dark eyes, he’s usually quick to smile but appears exhausted today.
“How you doing, Corporal?” I ask.
“Rough week. New physical therapist knows how to make a man hurt.”
“Sorry to hear.”
“How’s the robo-leg?”
“Incredible. Been pushing it to the limit,” I say with a grin. “If I break it –“
“- they can build you another.”
We both chuckle at the common greeting. I turn to reveal the teen behind me. “This is Todd.”
Todd shakes the corporal’s hand. I pat the empty bed beside Corporal Lance in his wheelchair.
“He here for a scare-‘em-straight session or a military-is-awesome session?” Corporal Lance asks with a Marine’s bluntness.
“How about we start with you telling him what happened,” I suggest.
“Hope you have a sturdy stomach,” the corporal warns Todd.
Todd glances at me uncertainly. “I think so,” he murmurs.
Lance starts his tale. I excuse myself to go to the one part of the VA center where I won’t take Todd until he’s older: the psych ward. It’s a travesty to me knowing this part of the hospital is as full as the rest. The doors at every entrance are secured. The orderlies know me by now, and I’m permitted entrance to the floor with the most severely disturbed.
