by Blake Haugen
“What are you smiling about,” he inquired, interrupting her thoughts. “Where’d you just go? I hope you’re not thinking about that girl. I’ve never hit a woman, but she’d better keep her hands off my baby.”
“Shut up! You are so absurd! Your baby? Your baby! You are like, straight out of an 80s soap opera, or 70s, I don’t know,” she cackled.
“I don’t care. I’ll just take that red hair and yank. It’s long. It’ll grow back.”
Persephone swatted his hand again, struggling not to laugh, “You are bad. Besides: a) I’m straight, and b) she’s my best friend. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Correction: I’m your best friend. She’s your best friend that’s not your boyfriend. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to rufie you or something. You know those rich politician’s kids are always the ones with access to drugs and shit.”
“Okay, I can’t even continue down this ridic line of reasoning,” she grinned, covering her face, trying not to burst at the seams.
“Well then, I guess it’s settled. I’ll just have to come to Texas with you to assuage my fears,” Vanya raised one dark blond brow, poised for victory.
“Oh,” Persephone leaned back into a tiresome groan.
“Yeah, sweetpea, you kind of walked into that one.”
“Ugh, Gigantor, you don’t have to go. I don’t even know if I want to go.”
“I think you do. Otherwise, you would have turned her down already, right? You’re just nervous.”
“Yeah…”
“Yeah. And I’ll be with you and no one would want to make you feel uncomfortable with a six foot five guy following you around. Anyway, I think they care about you and I want to meet them.”
“We won’t be able to fornicate the whole time we’re there.”
Vanya took a deep, thoughtful breath, “Hmm, well, that's a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
Persephone lowered her head and smiled. This was all very nice to her; too nice. “Vanya, where is all this coming from?”
“What?”
“The ‘best friends,’ ‘your baby.’ What’s happened? I mean, it's not that I don’t enjoy it. I do, a lot; but we’re moving kind of fast with these professions, don’t you think? If it’s something to do with your work or your family, that’s okay, but you don’t have to go to Texas to prove something to me. Or to yourself for that matter.”
Vanya ran his hands through his hair, giving him a slightly disheveled appearance. A deep sigh rumbled through his chest and Persephone was reminded of what a perfect specimen of man she considered him to be. She then questioned her own feelings for him, given that his body was the first thing she thought about after dropping such a serious statement on the table. However, she dismissed the idea that her feelings were superficial when she saw him place his head in his hands. Her heart lurched at the possibility of having hurt his feelings.
“Vanya, I’m sorry, I –”
“No, no, don’t apologize. You’re right, it’s soon. I know I freak you out sometimes after we’re done in bed or when I get jealous and I’m sorry. But I want you to understand some things. I’m just going to speak my mind here, okay?”
“Yeah,” Persephone replied quietly. She watched him intently as he folded his arms. He didn’t meet her eyes and she realized he was somewhat embarrassed the same way she sometimes was when he displayed affection.
“First of all, you don’t ask questions and I really appreciate that. If the time comes and I have to expose you to my family and the slew of business that comes with it, then I will, but for now, I want you nowhere near them. When it comes to you, I only trust Lina. I feel like you’ve given me a lot and I don’t want involvement with my family to take away from your life or your happiness. You’ve got enough on your plate anyway.
“Secondly, I need you to know that I’m so very thankful for you. You're not intimidated by anything and you’re so sweet and kind and I can trust you with anything. Everything I feel with you and say to you is genuine. Whenever I’m with you, I feel perfect and I miss you when I leave town. I feel so happy when I drive back, knowing I’m going to get to spend all week with you, even if we just study most of the time. So, whatever I can do to make life easier for you is something I want to do. That includes going to Texas to meet your ‘non-relatives.’”
Persephone tried to wipe away her tears discreetly but gave up when she could no longer stem the flow by tilting her head back. “Wow, you’re making me weep in public.”
“Well, I never thought I’d be telling you all that in public. So, can I go?” Vanya asked plainly, ignoring her attempt at humor.
“What? To Texas you mean? Yeah. I’d love to have you there with me; but what’s your family going to say about it?"
“Nothing, I’ll tell them I’m going skiing. I've done that before and we haven’t done a big Thanksgiving since my mother passed. I won’t be missed.”
He unfolded his arms, took her face in his hands, and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
“Mmm,” she hummed when their lips parted, “now I don’t want to go class.”
“I can take you home right now, sweetpea,” Vanya stood, taking her hand.
“Yeah right, and lose my edge? We have a huge-ass final in three weeks.”
“That’s my girl.”
□
"Dressing, boy, not stuffing," Zenovia Lillis said after chomping away at part of a turkey leg. When she chewed, her dentures clacked together loudly. Though she hunched over her Thanksgiving meal, it was clear that she was once a very tall woman. At eighty, she was still formidable, and Persephone wouldn't have known the woman had suffered a stroke months ago if she hadn't seen Zenovia during her recovery period.
"Yes, ma'am, dressing. It's really good," Vanya replied cautiously before placing another bite in his mouth.
"Mama, don't be mean. Some people say 'dressing' and some people say 'stuffing.' It all tastes good. The only thing that matters is that you like it, Vanya. Eat up," Margie Benson butted in on Vanya's behalf.
"Well, Mom, technically, only stuffing is stuffed. Dressing is on the side. So, γιαγιά is right," John Mark chimed in for the first time that evening. Persephone guessed he was trying to eat as quickly as possible and make it to the den for the football game. His smart, cute girlfriend, Ariana, had been quietly containing her laughter for the entirety of the meal. She ate only a small portion of her food, surely an attempt to maintain her dancer's figure for ballet. However, it seemed she was off the hook since Vanya was under the Petersons’ scrutiny.
Persephone, for her part, was enjoying the meal immensely. The idea of Vanya having to prove his honor to Zenovia – and to a lesser extent, Peter – was downright hilarious. The woman questioned the validity of everything he did. Peter had been giving Vanya scathing looks all night and had gone so far as to ask about his "intentions for the future." That one had made Vanya visibly uncomfortable; Emma had saved him with an, "Ohmigod, Dad!" Peter finally let Vanya off the hook when he recognized him from some Division I basketball championships from years past. After that, it was all talk of the game, the teams, and the titles.
It wasn't long before they ate up and the men all headed to the den for the game. Persephone sat with Emma, Margie, Ariana and Zenovia in the living room, chatting about the town's goings on. Apparently, an old foreign film had made its way to the movie theatre and Zenovia thought it would be good for all the ladies to get out and "get some culture." Much to her daughter's wariness, she insisted on driving.
"I'm not dead yet, and I've still got some eyes to see with. Allow an old woman this one indulgence, Margie," she stated, climbing slowly into the luxury SUV, rebuffing Margie's provision of assistance.
"But Mama, I want you to be careful," Margie protested. "It's all fun and games until someone breaks a hip. I told you what happened to Ms. Kroger last week. She's still in the hospital and Patricia has been there at her side the whole time and she's missed a week of work because of it and we've had to b
ring dinner over to the kids all week and you know how Patricia is about those kids’ diet. If I never see ‘gluten-free’ on a box of pasta mix again, it’ll be entirely too soon."
Persephone looked at Emma and raised her eyebrows. She'd forgotten the amount of words that Margie could fit into one breath. The speedy language coupled with her high-pitched, twangy voice was more than anyone in the car wanted to take. Everyone in the party was relieved when Margie decided to stay behind to clean up.
The four women began what should have been a calm drive to the movie theater ten minutes away. Unfortunately, Zenovia had entirely different ideas of speed limits and right of way than the local government. Her swears filled the car when she nearly hit someone on a rolling stop. Ariana sat in shock in the backseat, clutching her seat belt and pressing her thin frame into the seat cushions behind her. Emma and Persephone, however, were seasoned passengers of Zenovia's wrath. They had accepted the gamble of driving with her years ago, especially when she was the only one available to give a ride to the then unlicensed teens.
Zenovia had once told Persephone that she had "seen some shit" while serving in the Fleet Support community of the U.S. Navy, but Persephone got the impression that Zenovia was tough before that. She often regaled them with some story about the naval base. "They never sent women out to sea back then" was always offered as a reason for the inexplicable incidents in her tales. Persephone had always been more attentive to these anecdotes than Emma, who was certain her γιαγιά had made up nearly everything.
"So, is that Russian boy talking about marrying you, Persephone?" the old woman asked loudly toward the back seat.
"Wow, Zenovia, woo; right out of the gate there, eh?" Persephone grinned nervously behind Emma. She just knew Emma was smiling a teasing smile in the front seat.
"Well, I'm just being observant, girl. It's clear to me that he’s taken with you. He came out here to the middle of 'Lord Knows Where, Texas' just to meet us. I'd say that Red is looking to keep you."
"'Keep her?' Γιαγιά, that's a little antiquated, don't you think? And that’s to say nothing of ‘Red,’" Emma scoffed.
"Aw, hell, you know what I mean. He said his parents were from Russia. Somebody in his family was a Red. Just make sure you know him before you rush into anything. It took a lot of convincing for me to finally marry Joseph. He was the best one of them that died on me."
"Yes, ma'am. I remember some of the 'convincing' you told us about," Persephone tried to remind Zenovia so that she wouldn't rehash any details. Apparently, she was wooed into matrimony by Colonel Joseph Lillis, her fourth and final husband, after years and years of friendship.
"But you should really know them. I mean really know them. And I'm… well, I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I'm not just talking about foreplay either. I mean you should really know 'em. Good to know what you want and what they want."
"Umm, yeah, Γιαγιά, that's uh, important," Emma stepped up to speak for the stunned young women in the back seat.
"It sure is," Zenovia continued. "You know, Joseph loved me long before I loved him and I had to wait it out. I had rushed into things twice before. You aren't doin' yourself any favors doing that. That's why I joined the navy. It ended up setting me straight, letting me figure out what I wanted before I got married again. I guess it gave me Joseph, too. My mama was seventeen when she married. She just came over here from Greece a few years after that. Now, I loved my father, but he was a mean cuss. Any woman would've had second guesses with a man like that. I didn't want something like that for myself, but I still got married way too young.
"Anyway, you're all good girls. You'll get married. But make sure you really know the man. That goes for you, too, girl. Just because you're dating my grandson don't think that I'm not talking to you," Zenovia threw her last caveat to a speechless Ariana.
Persephone thanked God when they pulled into the movie theater parking lot about sixty seconds later. The awkwardness in the vehicle was palpable. When they drove past the box office she yelped for the car to stop.
"Hey, stop right here; I'll get the tickets while you guys park!" Persephone bounced out of the jiggling SUV after Zenovia came to an abrupt stop.
"I'll go, too," Ariana popped out of the car like lightening. Persephone didn't miss the glare of daggers Emma threw their way as she and Zenovia drove off to find a parking space. Persephone decided the slight betrayal was worth it.
"Whooaaa, that was like, super intense," Persephone commented sotto voce as they took their place in line.
"Oh, my gosh, I know. I had no idea what to say!"
"Meh, I think all you can do when old people talk like that is listen. Even if they're crazy, which Zenovia is not. You can probably still pick out some good tidbits from what they're saying. Besides, she’s like an expert on marriage."
"Really?"
"Pssh, she's been married a ton of times. The first one died in Korea seven months after they got married. The second one was an asshole she divorced. The third one was Margie's dad. He was way older than her and had a heart attack and died and then Joseph was her last one and he died ten years ago from cancer."
"Damn, that's crazy."
"Yeah, I suppose it happens that way sometimes, but it's pretty crazy. Can you imagine being widowed at twenty-one years old? That's insane. I don't even think I had dated anyone more than three months when I was that age. I can't imagine being serious about anything then."
"I've been with John Mark for six months. I hope we stay together a long time," Ariana stated in a worried tone. Persephone felt bad; she'd forgotten Ariana and John Mark were both twenty-one. She didn't want to put doubts in the girl's head.
According to what Emma had told Persephone earlier, John Mark was pretty serious about the ballerina, but her parents weren't so thrilled. The older Afro-Brazilian couple had retired from successful ballet careers and thought John Mark was a career killing distraction. Apparently, her trip to Texas for United States Thanksgiving had only put stress on Ariana's relationship with her parents.
"Well, yeah, you two are sweet and I'm a freak. I've dated like, no one since the beginning of college – that is, before Vanya came along," Persephone tried to make up for her previous comments. "Besides, John Mark is so improved now that he's with you. He seems more mature, more ready to deal with things like an adult."
"Hmph, that's funny. Emma's said the same thing, but I never think of him that way."
"Ha, that's because he's never tried to steal your diary or put staining food dye in your toothpaste at a sleepover."
"What?! How is that even possible without someone noticing?"
"I don't know, he's frickin' smart… and evil. But you've changed all that. Now he's dopey with love and mature. It's definitely an improvement. Oh, here they come. Why don't you head inside and snatch us all some seats while I stay in the snack line. You want anything other than super buttery pop corn?"
"Can I have a water?"
"Yep, I'll see you inside."
The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch. The movie was about some French guy that was trying to weasel his way into high society at any price. The character’s task was surprisingly easy, and while the film was full of witty moments and passionate affairs, Persephone found herself hating the protagonist. He was a phony and loved it, often lying to get whatever he wanted and blackmailing and extorting several people. On the drive home, Persephone couldn't help but think about Vanya doing that.
Based on his father’s reputation, she assumed blackmail and extortion had been part of his job description at one point or another. At first, she thought it was ironic that she could hate that movie character and feel so much for Vanya, but then she decided the two were completely different.
She had gathered from late night revelatory cuddle sessions and the constant callbacks to his father that Vanya's work was mostly motivated by familial loyalty. As misguided as that was, it was better than pure greed. He had been raised to think of it tha
t way. Vanya was also monogamous. She doubted he had time to fuck anyone else but her with the way they went at it. His only free time was when he went to the city on the weekends and he always returned as soon as possible, eager to devour her as soon as he stepped through the door.
Persephone wasn't totally sure, but she suspected that the forbidden nature of their relationship and lovemaking were extremely thrilling to Vanya. They were opposites in the truest sense. She was short to his tall, black to his white, boisterous to his reserved, calculating to his direct, and sexually submissive to his dominant. Poor Vanya had been dying to get into her pants since they'd come to Texas, but Peter was determined to make sure they didn't so much as kiss under his roof. If Peter had his way, she and Vanya and John Mark and Ariana wouldn’t get less than one foot between them.
Persephone slumped back in her theater seat, thinking of how scandalized Peter would have been by a movie with this amount of sexual content, even if it was in a classy, 70s, new wave, French film sort of way. Being that they were such prudes, she wondered how he and his wife could possibly enjoy their sex lives. After becoming grossed out by her attempts to imagine what such a sexual relationship would be like, Persephone returned her concentration to the end of the film.
□
The next evening Emma took the responsibility of the youths' entertainment into her own hands. They had all finished a light round of leftovers from the holiday meal when Emma broke the news. Margie was a little disappointed when her daughter informed her that the kids wouldn't be joining her and Peter for a Frank Capra film screening.
"Yeah, Mom, we've seen all of them ten million times. We're going dancing."
Worry immediately creased Margie's face. "Well, who's driving?"
"I am," Ariana chimed in. "I'm not drinking. Empty carbs."
"Well, Emma, what time are y'all gonna be back?"
"I don't know, but I know we'll be late if we don't leave soon!" she replied rising from the couch. "We're meeting up with some friends and we still have to get gussied up."
