by Blake Haugen
He now sat on the twin bed and said nothing as she undressed and picked out some clean clothing. She didn’t know if she could attribute his silence to his enchantment with her body or the thoughtful mood he’d exhibited. She inwardly beamed at the possibility of the former. After shimmying into her tights, Vanya finally spoke, disabusing her of that notion.
“I think I want you to have a gun. And I want you to know how to use it. I’ll pay for it, of course, a class, your license, and the gun. It’ll be just a little one, nothing too dangerous or anything.” Vanya spoke mostly to himself, not meeting Persephone’s eyes as he brainstormed the logistics of getting her a firearm. If he’d looking up he would have seen the bored and then annoyed look she threw his way. He kept going on about how she might think it excessive and unnecessary.
Persephone moved to her closet and pulled down a small case and set it on her vanity. She opened it, pulled out a velvety black cloth, and lay it out on the mahogany tabletop. Vanya didn’t rise to see what she was doing until he heard her remove the magazine and clear the chamber of her Makarov PM. She continued efficiently disassembling the pistol when he rose and silently looked over her shoulder. She laughed inwardly at his confusion and smiled a bit when she took the claw tipped cleaning rod and searched for any gunk.
“You know, I’m glad you mentioned that because my Mak here is long overdue for a cleaning,” she had stated casually. “I have this cute little concealment holster I guess I can keep in my purse. Does that make you feel better?”
Vanya took a few moments to respond, “Umm, yeah. Yeah, that’s, that’s great. Where did you, uh…”
“Get a pistol?” She turned to him and grinned while she removed the safety, letting the firing pin fall out. “My dad gave it to me.”
“I thought he died when you were young.”
“Yeah, when I was sixteen. I got this when I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen!”
“What? I first shot a rifle when I was like eight or nine. It was at camp. It was fun.”
“Kids with rifles?”
“We’re Texans, man, everyone has some kind of gun, or knows someone that does at least.”
“Hmph, wow.”
He fell silent after that, just staring at her as she reassembled the pistol. He stared at her in the same manner when she straightened her hair, seemingly mesmerized. Persephone laughed to herself after thinking that he must be immune to the distinct smell of superheated titanium tiles on human hair. Vanya leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, with his head tilted to the side.
“What’re you looking at?” she asked while keeping her focus on the bathroom mirror.
“I’ve never actually seen you do this before. It’s cool.”
“I guess. I’ve always thought of straightening my hair as more of a pain in the ass. The cost o' beauty. I like getting it done at the beauty shop though. There’s nothing in this world like having someone else wash your hair. I love the way my scalp feels when they’re all done.”
“If it puts that look on your face, I could do it for you.”
“Yeah, like, never,” Persephone snorted and gave her attention back to the mirror. Vanya lingered on a few moments more and then retreated to her living room.
□
Gupta and Gujral lost hundreds of thousands of dollars in the fire Mikhail had executed. Most of the goods lost were criminally acquired and could not be replaced with insurance. Kirill was more than pleased with his son’s performance in regard to the situation. He told him so that Sunday when he came to visit. They munched on a simple breakfast Kirill had prepared for them and some associates milling about the house. Vanya had been triumphant that weekend, but that was no reason to let their guard down. The extra protection the men gave let Kirill enjoy subduing enemies without feeling too paranoid.
Vanya felt a strange mix of weariness and hunger. He’d waited to eat until he reached his father’s house. His late night activities with Persephone had kept him up the previous two nights. Vanya found that he was unlike Persephone in that he was a very light sleeper and needed all of his beauty rest. Eight hours was barely enough for him, whereas she tossed and turned until she went into a deep, dead sleep for about three to five hours. His voracious appetite for her had conflicted with his sleeping habits and he was slipping during the day. His head hung over his bowl of kasha as he stuffed large spoonfuls of the porridge into his mouth.
The morning lingered into afternoon and a soccer match – courtesy of his father’s satellite – was viewed in the living room. Vanya stayed back in the kitchen while his father prepared more food. He played at chopping some onions, avoiding any actions that might bring him to tears.
“My only boy is so useless in the kitchen. That’s pretty pathetic Vanushka. I wonder sometimes how you can come from me. I don’t understand how you could handle that basketball so well and not be able to mince some onions for an old man.”
“Papa, you’re not old. You’ll be around for a hell of a long time if I have anything to do with it.”
“You sound reluctant, my boy.”
“Ugh, yes, I don’t look forward to the death of my father. I’ve already lost my mother.”
“You know what I mean; reluctant to take up the mantle you will bear for this family.”
“This family. Me, Lina, Uncle Nikolai, Mikhail, and God help us all, Yulian, too. And you, Papa. This family involves you, too. You're the head of it,” Vanya avoided his father’s eyes and his onion chopping became erratic.
Kirill ignored his statement. “Your sister is marrying some American playboy. Who knows what she wants to do with us anymore.”
“Is that what this is about? Again? I've told you Lina isn’t going anywhere. She’s loyal to us, Papa; loyal to you!”
“Then tell me, how much has she told Kittredge, hmm? Do you know? Because I have no idea. He should know nothing because he is an outsider. Yet, I have to sit here and hope everything I built doesn’t crumble because my daughter was married off to some weak minded fool.”
Vanya could not respond. His father’s concern was legitimate and Vanya was ashamed he hadn’t seen the danger in it before. He wanted so badly for his sister to be happy. It dawned on him that his sister’s happiness was not his father’s primary concern.
“Then why haven’t you gotten rid of him? Pushed him away or something?” the simple question slipped from Vanya’s mouth before he could think better of it.
Kirill gave a humorless laugh and began to peel some carrots. He didn’t answer Vanya until he had peeled two of the vegetables.
“You don’t think that’s crossed my mind several times? I’d lose her forever if I did that. Hell, I might create a formidable enemy. Besides, that’s not how things are done over here. You know that.
“I thought it would be better to just open her eyes to the mistake she was making; force her to make a choice. I would expose this boy for what he was and let her leave him. Heh, the joke was on me. I had him looked over and everyone, everything – my police contacts, my private associates – found nothing. No one could tell me that he wasn’t all that he claimed to be.
“I think that scared me more. I don’t know what I’m dealing with. I knew your mother my entire life. We were born three months apart and raised on the same street and we got married when we were twenty-one. I can’t imagine trusting someone and not knowing them the way I knew her. It’s good, you know, to know the woman who’s going to have your children. I checked on this boy myself. I had him beaten and I questioned him and still nothing. I think he is just a stubborn fool; one that’s in love with my Lina.”
Vanya forced himself not to lift his head and reveal his astonishment to his father. He’d had Austin Kittredge beaten up and admitted to doing so out loud? The man was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. Attention was the last thing they needed. It was a stupid move, fueled by anger. Vanya knew his father could be cruel, but he had never known the man to make such a tactical mistake.
“He posed no threat really, after all that. It was terrible; he was just a man I knew nothing about. I can’t just let him into my home under the pretenses of family and friendship and love. I trust Lina, but I do not trust him. Once this wedding takes place, Lina will only be involved and informed on our most peripheral business dealings. She can work with that Alex woman or become a mother. I don’t know; it’s her choice. Whatever it is, it won’t be in any way involved with my business. Do you understand me?”
“I think I’m beginning to.”
“Good. I need you ready to lead on your own. You will have to bear the cross alone. As well you should; I was too indulgent in letting her manage so many things. It was easy though; no man or woman has a knack for this the way she does. In a lot of ways, she’s more cut out for it than you. But she was born a woman. Sometimes I think God hates me because of these tricks he plays. It is my punishment. First, taking away lyubov moya when I needed her most, and now giving me my fiercest warrior in the body of a girl.”
Kirill chuckled humorlessly and returned to chopping carrots as if he had not decided Vanya’s future for him or excommunicated his daughter from an empire she had maintained and helped to thrive her entire adult life. Vanya was stricken for a few moments. He stared at his father blankly, but Kirill would not meet his eyes. He understood that his father had spoken his peace and was done with him for now. Vanya finished chopping the onions as quickly as possible, ignored the stinging in his eyes, and left the kitchen.
□
Professor Pearl was droning on and on. Persephone usually loved Contracts. The content interested her, the class was scheduled in the late morning when she was most alert, and she got to sit by her darling Gigantor. However, on this cold November morning, not even the cursory glance at her paramour’s hot bod could keep her attention. The only thing Persephone could dwell on was the call she recently received from Margie Benson.
“We’d love for you to come down for Thanksgiving, honey. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you and we all had so much fun the last time. You can even meet John Mark’s little girlfriend. I think you two will get along. She’s very smart.”
Persephone had staved off Margie’s attempt to get a serious commitment and promised to call back once she had made sure that her schedule and workload would allow a four day jaunt to Texas. She wondered what Vanya’s Thanksgiving plans were while Professor Pearl wrote a date on the dry erase board. Spending it with his family, of course, what else?
She shook her head and took a deep breath in an attempt to concentrate. Unsure why the date was important, Persephone scribbled it down in her notebook and searched for the section of the textbook from which the class was reading. After about thirty seconds of fumbling through the pages, a pair of large, pale hands pulled the book and pointed out the correct passage. She smiled gently at the irony of Vanya helping her get caught up during class and pretended to pay attention again. She met his eyes when she felt his stare on her.
“What’s up?” he mouthed, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Later,” she whispered back, giving her focus to Professor Pearl for real this time.
After class she and Vanya declined an offer of lunch with Finn and some other classmates. The decline was met with no resistance on Finn’s part. Her apparent jealousy had subsided in the weeks since she’d confronted Vanya at the Learning Law practice session.
They began to hangout more often, but usually in groups. Timothy had also recognized her relationship with Vanya and ceased to invite her to dinner after practice. Things were still very cordial between all of them, but they had not yet regained the level of pleasant friendship they’d had before. Persephone had particularly missed Finn since she and Vanya had chosen to become “official.”
Persephone and Vanya chose to eat at a coffee house on the main campus, away from the law school. She picked at her favorite café combination – quiche and soup – as Vanya dived into the curry he had chosen. He questioned her after his food was gone.
“So, what’s up? You seemed out of it today.”
“Yeah, Margie Benson called. She asked if I was coming to Texas for Thanksgiving. It’s like, the third time we’ve talked about it. I guess she needs to arrange place cards or something.”
“Place cards? That sounds a little fancy for Thanksgiving.”
“I was just kidding.”
“Oh.”
There was an awkward pause and Persephone resumed staring at her quiche until Vanya grasped her hand. She knew what he was going to ask her and thought of how she might answer him. The thing was, she was running out of legitimate answers when she asked herself.
“Why don’t you want to go?”
There it was. She sighed before giving her reply. “I don’t know. I mean, I just don’t associate them with anything terribly happy.”
“What do you mean? Were they mean to you?”
“No, nothing like that. I just equate them with some of the worst times in my life. And whenever I’m with them, they always treat me like some wounded animal, always asking if I’m okay.”
“Percy, they probably think you’re lonely.”
“No, they probably think I’m some cold robot or something,” she looked away and folded her arms.
“Why?”
“Probably because I didn’t cry or freak out or anything when I moved in with them.”
“You mean right after you parents died?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think I would be skeptical if a teenage girl didn’t seem sad or start crying sometime after I took her in.”
“What, because all teenage girls are emotional and need to have some kind of intense outpouring all the time?”
“Hey, I’m just saying, if I was a mother hen – which is what Margie sounds like to me – then I would be all over you, too. Don’t get mad at me.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…”
“What?” Vanya easily reached over the small table and unfolded her arms in order to take hold of both her hands.
“I did cry. It was only ever in private though. I think she and Peter are still waiting for some sort of breakdown and it makes me feel a little guilty.”
“Guilty for what?”
“Guilty that I can’t deliver. I mean, I was sad, but I just wanted to leave Texas. More than anything; I was too busy working to be overcome with grief and as bad as it sounds, schools eat up shit like that. ‘Parents died before senior year.’ The whole thing was way easier without my dad breathing down my neck anyway.”
Vanya languorously rubbed his thumbs over her hands. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve mentioned something specific about your father to me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. What’s the deal with him? I take it you two didn’t get along?”
“Pshh, that’s an understatement.”
“Well, I think I know a thing or two about an old man that’s on your ass all the time.” He was surely alluding to the constant calls he received from his father. More often than not, a phone call from Kirill or one of his associates would interrupt a study or make out session of theirs.
“Yeah, well, our dads are a little bit different, but I’m sure mine was just as hard on me.”
“What, did he take away your cell phone privileges?” Vanya grinned playfully.
“Har-dee-har, smartass,” she swatted his left hand. “I didn’t have a cell phone until my senior year. The Benson’s insisted I have one. I was not some spoiled brat.”
“Then what was it?”
“The endless lessons. History, math, history, dance, karate, Spanish, history, and then some more history. The only thing I did enjoy doing with him was going out to the shooting and rifle ranges. He was just mean, kind of. Just an asshole.”
“Your mom just let that go on?”
“I guess; she basically let him do whatever. I was an only child and he wanted to cram everything he’d ever wanted into the one kid he had. That’s what she t
old me anyway. Looking back now, I have no idea how I even managed to do all those extracurriculars and breathe.”
“How was he mean to you?” The circles his thumbs had made on her hands had stopped. His grip was now tense.
“I don’t know, he was just mean.” Persephone clammed up, releasing his hands, hoping he’d get the message. Thankfully, he did, and promptly changed the subject.
“Well, I still think you should go to Texas for Thanksgiving. I can go with you.”
“Do you even know what type of spectacle that would be? You can’t fathom it. I mean, you really can’t fathom.”
“Oh, come on, it could be fun. I've never been to Texas. Besides, what are you going to do if you stay behind here?”
“Finn invited me to the city to eat with her family. No hassle, no nagging, no drama. Not for me anyway. I think she has some psycho cousins.”
“So, now I definitely want you to go to Texas and I’d be happy to escort you. You know, make sure you arrive safely.”
“Oh, stop it! Finn has totally laid off since – since that weekend.”
Persephone was sure they were both thinking, "The weekend that you shot a guy dead." The days after the ‘incident,’ as she had come to call it in her head, had been tense because no details were discussed. Even so, in the following weeks, Vanya and Persephone had become bosom buddies as well as passionate lovers.
As it turned out, Vanya enjoyed cuddling and coddling Persephone no matter what they were doing. He was content to crush her smaller body against his during sleep, at a park picnic, or when they studied for hours on end each Sunday afternoon after she returned from Mass. Persephone remembered Vanya’s surprise when she had risen at seven o’clock one Sunday morning and no amount of kisses, caresses, or licks could convince her to remain in bed. When he finally set her free, he teased her for being a fornicator. The joke had persisted and her lips curved upward at the memory.
