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“Is this Venice?” he asked, pointing at one featuring a row of old buildings flanking a canal. A glorious sunset glinted off the windows.
Memories of that day came back to me and a fond smile crept across my face. “It’s St. Petersburg. My home.”
“Wow… It’s beautiful. When’s the last time you were there?”
The smile morphed into a grimace. “It’s been a while.”
He glanced up at me before promptly looking back at the picture, letting me process the emotion without staring. “I take it by that look you’re not going back anytime soon?”
Shaking my head, I stepped away, trying to keep the homesickness at bay by thinking of anything else except my city and the family that remained there. Family I hadn’t spoken to in years and never would again for their safety. St. Petersburg existed only in my dreams. The reality was lost to me. “No… would you care for some tea?”
“I’m not that drunk,” he said with a bit of a laugh, turning away and collapsing on the couch again.
The fact he killed a bottle of vodka that had been mostly full would state otherwise, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Something to eat, then?”
“You cook?”
It was my turn to laugh as I shrugged out of my suit jacket and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. “No. But I can open a bag of sushki.”
“Sushi?” He picked his head up, making a face.
Instead of answering him, I took the bag of pastries out of a cupboard and held it up.
“Mini bagels?” he asked, squinting, even more confused.
“Sort of.” I tossed it on the counter and went about making a pot of tea.
“It’s fine. I can make something,” he said, hauling himself to his feet again and wandering into the kitchen. “I’m fucking starving and a tiny, little bagel isn’t going to cut it.”
“It’s a tea bread,” I corrected.
“Whatever. It looks like a bagel.” He all but hip-checked me out of his way, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and pantry.
I took my poor bag of tea bread and hopped up onto the counter, making myself comfortable while he chopped and mixed a variety of ingredients with surprising dexterity considering how much alcohol he put away.
“Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked, chewing a piece of sushki and tossing one to the threshold of the kitchen and the living room where Nadia sat, looking forlornly at us.
“Trial and error?” He threw the chopped vegetables in a sauté pan and got to work whisking eggs and milk together, along with some seasoning.
“Is that what you want to do? As a career?”
He snorted a laugh, shaking his head while pushing the vegetables around in the pan with a spatula. “What are you talking about? I’m living my best fucking life.”
“I’m serious. What did you want to do as a child?”
“You mean other than not getting popped during a drive-by or jumped on the way home from school?” He gave me a pointed look and walked over to the fridge again, retrieving a bag of shredded cheese. “I wanted to be a school counselor.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes at himself, muttering under his breath.
“Why would that be a bad thing?”
“Can you imagine sending your kids to school where there’s someone likemetrying to dole out life advice? The PTA would riot.”
“It’s a very specific job,” I wondered out loud.
“Is that your way of asking why the fuck I wanted to do it?” He arched an eyebrow at me, stirring the vegetables.
“I suppose. Yes.” I was happy to see his mood was improving. His jagged edges were still razor sharp but that was part of what made him so intriguing—his ability to cut through other people’s lies and manipulations. It was honest andthatwas a rarity, so long as you could withstand the pain.
“Mrs. Marlow. My middle school counselor,” he replied, a faint smile on his face. “She was the only one who gave a shit about me growing up. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I have a little bit of a temper, so I wound up in her office a lot.” He paused briefly, continuing only when it was clear I wasn’t going to comment. “Anyway, she knew what was up. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Crystal’s a fucking deadbeat and I was basically on my own. Mrs. Marlow got me all sorts of help. Signed me up for the lunch program, all the free medical shit, after-school activities. Whatever she could. Shereallyfucking tried.” Whatever earlier smile he had was gone, replaced with bitterness. “Now look at me. She’d besoproud. All of that hard work for absolutely nothing.”
