When Halina stops playing, Zachary stands up. Alexandra would laugh at the way both Abernathys wipe their tears away in exactly the same way, if her instincts didn’t scream at her to pull them into a hug and never let go.
Halina seeks Alexandra’s eyes and raises inquisitive eyebrows. Alexandra replies with a soft smile before standing and walking to Zachary.
Your conclusion? she asks, and Zachary’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears she won’t mention.
It’s very different listening to music with my aids, he replies, But it’s just as interesting. It may be worth studying back home.
“Awesome,” Alexandra says, clapping his back. Didn’t you forget something? she adds, discreetly nodding toward Halina, who still seems uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” Zachary tells her while simultaneously signing it, “it was very pretty.”
“You’re welcome,” Halina says with a bow of her head. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”
They look at each other awkwardly until Halina’s stomach grumbles.
“What about we continue this conversation over dinner?” Alexandra offers, her arm linked with Zachary’s.
“In or out?” he asks her, and they turn to Elisabeth and Halina, who exchange a silent question.
“Out,” Elisabeth finally decides.
“Out it is.”
In the evening, back at the hotel, Alexandra snuggles with Halina, whose head is pillowed on Alexandra’s chest.
“Sooo,” Halina starts, her fingers drawing random patterns on Alexandra’s skin.
“Hmm?”
“Twins, huh?”
Alexandra laughs. Her fingers are buried in Halina’s hair. “Please tell me you don’t have some kind of fantasy about getting twins into your bed.”
“I don’t,” Halina says, too quickly, and Alexandra chuckles silently until Halina looks away. “Okay, so maybe I thought about it when you both came back from the restrooms tonight.”
“Oh my God.”
“Can you blame me, though? You two are twins.” She presses a kiss to the side of Alexandra’s right breast, the number one spot in Halina’s list of places to rest her head. “And yet so different. It’s… intriguing.” She punctuates the end of her sentence with a light suck on Alexandra’s nipple, making her groan and arch her body toward Halina’s mouth, just as intended.
The little devil.
“Good—oh, dear God, your mouth is made of sin—good luck with making such a vision come to life,” Alexandra replies. “My sister is straighter than a dance pole.”
“Nice comparison.”
“The straightness of arrows seems a bit exaggerated.”
Halina scoots up in the bed to face Alexandra and rolls her eyes in the semidarkness before she bends for a kiss. “You’re such a dork.”
“Yep.”
“You’re lucky it’s cute.”
“I’m lucky I’m cute,” Alexandra echoes before pulling Halina to her. “Now come back here, and let’s get some sleep.”
Ch 12
F Major
Gold, Imperial Purple, and Celeste Blue
When Alexandra told her to come to her apartment for a “celebration,” Halina anticipated various outcomes. It could be a night spent in bed with Alexandra’s curves and her soft skin. It could be her chance to visit the apartment in detail, to snoop around and learn more than what her night there taught her. It could be another dinner, a pre-Christmas thing. It could even be a celebration for her thirty-first birthday; even if that subject has never come up, Halina wouldn’t be surprised if Alexandra knows the date. In all those scenarios, the one constant was that it would be one evening shared between the two of them. Maybe it would be a chance to finally meet Alexandra’s mystery pet. No matter how much Halina asked, Alexandra insisted that her dog, from breed to name, had to be introduced in the flesh.
“Punshki, sit.”
Alexandra’s voice is soft yet firm, and the dog slouches on its haunches at the command.
Halina is suddenly interested in a scenario in which Alexandra uses this tone on her, full of authority and care, oozing confidence.
“Punshki?” she repeats. She frowns at the dog, who seems solemn and serious in his evaluation of her. “As in…?”
Alexandra picks him up, all fluff and fur and short limbs flailing in the air. “As in my big, fat doughnut,” she coos while she kisses the top of the dog’s head.
Halina revels in the picture of companionship the pair makes and tentatively holds her hand out toward the dog. Punshki observes her progress with the utmost dignity in spite of his posture. When her fingers are within reach, Punshki bends over Alexandra’s arms to sniff, pausing at her rings before he moves to the rest of her hand.
Taking her eyes away from him, Halina finds a secret, private expression on Alexandra’s face, one directly connected to Halina’s heartstrings.
Captivated by a gaze so full of fondness, Halina squeaks in surprise when Punshki gives her fingers a tentative lick. She giggles, delighted by the rasping, warm doggy kiss bestowed upon her, and scratches the fluff under his jaw.
In a perfect imitation of his owner, Punshki half-closes his eyes and tilts his big head to give her more access. His fluffy tail bats Alexandra’s arms with even more vigor.
“Okay, mister, off you go,” Alexandra groans, practically dropping her dog to the floor. Punshki makes a steady landing and walks a couple of circles around his owner’s feet before he gives the same treatment to Halina’s. Seemingly satisfied, the dog sniffs and struts back to the living room.
“Say,” Halina says thoughtfully as she takes off her coat, “why didn’t you tell me you can speak Polish?”
Alexandra pecks Halina’s lips before taking her coat from her hands without replying. Halina follows her to the living room, where Elisabeth and her son shower the dog with caresses and praises.
In the daylight, Halina notices more details of Alexandra’s apartment. The whole place gives off a very peculiar vibe, an “Alexandra” vibe, to be precise: small and compact and so warm, Halina is at home even though it’s only her second time in the place. Her eyes linger on the high-paneled bow window. It’s not much of a stretch to picture Alexandra here, in the morning light, all sleepy-eyed and disheveled.
Halina moves on to the comfortable sofa and armchairs, her eyes following Alexandra as she pushes away the curtain creating a boundary between her living room and her bedroom. The bed, with its dark wood and plush, burgundy quilt, looks just as comfortable as she remembers it being from their night spent in its cradle. Halina would love to get reacquainted with it.
She almost regrets not paying attention when she was here the first time. From the comfortable materials, reminiscent of her demeanor, to the artworks, posters, and decorations, Alexandra’s apartment is an interior-designed self-portrait.
Alexandra lays Halina’s coat on the quilt and brushes invisible lint from the lapel. “What do you mean? I don’t speak Polish.”
“Pączki,” Halina says. “It means ‘doughnut’ in Polish.”
Alexandra’s expression turns to one of amusement. “Really? ‘Cause it’s ponshkes in Yiddish, and it became ponshki when I was a kid, and then… well, it made sense for him when we met.”
“We have more in common than we thought,” Halina says, her voice suddenly husky.
“So it seems.”
Halina lets the words hang, heavy with meaning and decisions yet to be made.
“Come on, we have candles to light!” Elisabeth’s voice is teasing. It’s so like Alexandra’s, and yet Halina has never heard her companion speak in such a breathy tone.
They both startle from whatever trance they were in at this reminder of reality.
“Coming,” Alexandra replies, her eyes still on Halina’s face.
“Candles?” Halina asks, g
athering her thoughts and herself by smoothing over the pleats in her dress. Did she mention her birthday and forget she had?
“First night of Hanukkah,” Alexandra tells her, as if her words are a sufficient explanation.
Halina knows Hanukkah is a Jewish holiday with candles and doughnuts and spinning tops—the combo never made much sense to her—but what she doesn’t understand is what she is doing here. She is not Jewish, she is not a part of the family, she…
You don’t belong here.
Halina shakes her head to silence her mother’s voice. “You do know I’m not Jewish, though, right?”
“I invited you to celebrate it with us because it’s the only Jewish holiday worth celebrating, in my opinion,” Alexandra replies. The amusement on her face goes up a notch when Elisabeth protests behind them. “And since I wasn’t sure where you stand on the whole concept of Christmas, and I wanted to give you a present no matter what…”
Halina’s heart does a flip at the prospect of getting a present. She can count the number of Christmas presents she’s gotten over the years on one hand. Halina wraps her fingers around the curve of Alexandra’s hip and leans closer to whisper in her ear, “I have some ideas about what I want for Christmas, Santa.”
Alexandra turns her head to peek at her over her shoulder. “Good thing Hanukkah is bountiful in presents, babe,” she whispers, a kiss to Halina’s cheek. “But first, candles and food.”
On the coffee table in the living room, two candles are set in a beautiful wood and silver candelabra. A little silver top sits next to it. Only one candle is lit.
“I thought you said this was the first night,” Halina points out.
“It is,” she replies, signing along, “but we use this one,” pointing at the lit candle, “to light the others. And every night, we add more candles until all nine are lit.”
Next to his mother, Zachary snorts, but he looks away, fiddling with a lighter, when he sees Halina looking at him.
“Liz, go ahead,” Alexandra says next to Halina.
“You sure?”
Alexandra and her sister exchange a look loaded with history. “I figure the prayers should come from someone closer to the Big Guy,” Alexandra replies, and Elisabeth gapes.
“All right.” She elbows her son’s arm to move him forward. He lights one candle that he hands to her. Raising it in the air, she recites a prayer while Alexandra signs it.
The foreignness of the Hebrew reminds Halina of John Cage’s work. It sounds experimental, yet melodious.
“Amen,” Alexandra says while Zachary holds one hand up, palm up, with his other hand held in a thumbs-up gesture. He draws a small circle in the air with his thumbs-up before hitting his palm.
Halina catches his eyes, replicates the sign, and is rewarded with the hint of a smile.
Elisabeth continues the prayer, and Halina loses herself in the flicker of the flames.
“Amen,” Alexandra repeats, and Halina signs along with Zachary.
Elisabeth puts the candle back in its higher spot and reaches for Alexandra’s and Zachary’s hands. She says one more prayer before the sisters say “amen” in unison.
Halina assumes this is it, but Elisabeth tightens her hold on Alexandra’s hand. “Can I do just one verse of ‘Ma’oz T’zur’?”
“Knock yourself out,” Alexandra replies.
“Come on, Sasha, sing with me,” Elisabeth insists, and Alexandra rolls her eyes playfully and nods in agreement. Halina is familiar with this tone, pleading and playful, almost whiny, and she smiles to herself when Alexandra herself can’t resist it. Alexandra pulls Elisabeth into a one-armed hug. As they start singing, Halina’s eyes widen.
Ma-oz Tzur Y’shu-a-ti
Le-cha Na-eh L’sha-bei-ach
Ti-kon Beit T’fi-la-ti
V’sham To-da le—
There’s no denying Halina has quite a lot of layers to unwrap to get to the mystery named Alexandra Graff. Alexandra’s musical ear is an established fact, and so is her unique connection with music, but Halina didn’t expect her to chant so beautifully. We make quite the pair, Halina muses in amusement and delight, the musician who can’t sing to save her life, and the synesthete who sings perfectly, an anioł in the flesh.
Their voices rise into a bridge until Alexandra squints at Elisabeth. Her sister snaps her mouth shut and holds up her hands in surrender.
“And now,” Alexandra says, tapping her foot nearer where Zachary stands to get his attention and signing, “presents!”
“And latkes; I’m starving,” Elisabeth groans on her way to the kitchen.
“What are latkes?” Halina asks.
“Potato pancakes served as a dessert.”
“Pot—what holiday is it exactly?”
“Told you, the only kind worth celebrating,” Alexandra says while she pulls presents from the bow-window seat.
Zachary goes into Alexandra’s room and returns with four wrapped presents, one considerably smaller than the others, and winces toward Halina. “Sorry,” he says, hesitantly. “We didn’t know what to get you.”
The fact that a member of Alexandra’s family thinks he has to apologize for not bringing her a gift warms Halina as surely as a bowl of rosół.
“It’s okay,” she replies. “I didn’t get the memo about presents to begin with.”
Elisabeth returns with a plate laden with golden, crunchy-looking potato pancakes, very similar to placki. She also holds, expertly, a jar of cream and a sugar bowl.
“You deal with the presents,” she says and signs to her son. “I’ll deal with the food.”
Zachary grins at her and hands Alexandra a large box. He gives a smaller package to Punshki.
The dog jumps at it, vicious against his mortal enemy, and tears the paper to shreds, revealing a squeaky toy in the shape of a bottle of wine, complete with a label and a cork made of felt. Halina hides her laugh behind her hand.
“Oh, you guys,” Alexandra says softly. Her unwrapping is much more delicate than her pet’s and reveals a set of old books, bound in leather, with golden lettering on their spines. “They’re beautiful.”
Halina scoots closer, reading the titles. “They are beautiful books,” she comments, slowly moving her hand to brush her fingers along a spine. “Fairy tales?”
“Yeah,” Alexandra replies, eyes soft, as she scans the pages of a book. “Liz and I used to read them together and turn them into plays.”
“Oh, so these are your childhood books?”
“In a way,” Alexandra says, her eyes on Halina as she keeps on caressing the spines. “Ours were never as richly bound. I suppose Liz smuggled them out of the house for rebinding.”
“Exactly,” Elisabeth says. Or Halina assumes that is what she said, since she talked with her mouth full.
Halina takes a plate too, and spoons some of the cream and sprinkles a little sugar on top of the latke. The potato pancake is crunchy on the outside and yet meltingly soft on the inside. If this is a Jewish tradition, Halina will gladly add Hanukkah to her own assortment of celebrations.
Alexandra sets the books aside, away from the food and out of Punshki’s reach. She waits for Zachary to distribute the two other gifts before wiggling in her seat. “My turn!”
Pulling her pile of presents toward her, Alexandra practically vibrates.
“Youngest first,” Alexandra says while signing and passes an envelope to her nephew. “Some Hanukkah gelt for you, but in a way you should appreciate,” she explains.
Halina’s confusion must show on her face, for Elisabeth shuffles to get closer to her. “It’s tradition to give money, or gelt, to kids for Hanukkah,” she explains softly.
“Thanks,” Halina says.
Zachary has opened the envelope and pulls out a plastic card. His eyes go wide immediately, along with his smile.
H
e makes a universally recognizable gesture to signify just how crazy his aunt is and almost leaps over the table to pull her into a brief hug.
“What did you get him?” Elisabeth asks, elegantly dabbing her lips with a napkin, in perfect contrast to the way she ate.
“An Amazon card for bonuses on his role-playing video games,” Alexandra replies, patting Zachary on the back. “Here you go, Liz.” She passes a gift to her sister. “Though I wouldn’t necessarily open it in front of the kiddo.”
Elisabeth’s eyes widen. “You didn’t get me a… a toy, did you?”
“I didn’t,” Alexandra says, pausing with a short chuckle, “but now that you gave me the idea…”
“Alexandra. Drorit. Graff.”
“Kidding, kidding!”
Halina observes the whole exchange; a bitter thought unfurls. It would have been better, easier perhaps, if she’d had someone by her side when she was younger, someone who knew her better than anybody else, someone irrevocably in her corner against the rest of the world.
Instead of letting the gloom take over, Halina chooses to focus on the tidbit of information she just received on a silver platter. “Drorit?” she repeats, her head tilted to grin at Alexandra.
Alexandra winces and rolls her eyes. “Our parents wanted us to have Hebrew middle names. It means ‘sparrow,’ or ‘freedom.’”
“Suits you.”
Alexandra’s cheeks turn a pinkish hue, and her expression turns more playful when she points her thumb at her sister. “Want to hear hers?”
“What about I just open my gift, and you just shut your mouth?” Elisabeth cuts her off with a glare, before returning her attention to the package, which she opens gingerly. A blush spreads on her cheeks and neck. “Lingerie,” she whispers. The contents of the package are shielded from Zachary’s gaze by the wrapping paper. “Lexie…”
“Don’t mention it,” Alexandra says, waving her hand. “You deserve pretty things.”
“Who will I wear it for?” Elisabeth says softly, more than a little sad.
“Yourself, for starters,” Alexandra tells her, squeezing her hand.
“Right.”
Concerto in Chroma Major Page 13
