Father rises to his full six feet, his features hard and uncompromising. “Can I trust you with this, Max?”
And just like that, any fight I have left in me is sucked right out. There’s no point in arguing with him.
I never win.
“You can trust me, Father,” I reply, my tone flat.
Chapter 2
Valentina
Living in a house that's slowly collapsing around you, eventually, you stop noticing the small disasters. The shutter that hangs at a jaunty angle like a wonky eyelid? It adds character. The electrical outlet in the kitchen that occasionally shoots sparks when you plug in the kettle? Ambiance. The stack of final notices by the front door that's reached architectural proportions? Abstract decor.
Okay, maybe the last example is taking it a step too far.
Over the years. I've become remarkablyskilled at creative problem-solving. It’s why I excel in my profession. When you've spent years figuring out how to shower when the hot water heater subscribes to the “heat erratically” school of thought, writing commentary about people who've never had to choose between hot showers and food becomes surprisingly therapeutic.
“Morning, Nona,” I say as I push through her door and step into the darkened room. “I’ve brought your tea and a slice of toast.”
“Thank you, my love,” she replies as she pushes herself up in her statuesque four-poster bed, a relic of an aristocratic past. “Breakfast in bed. What a treat!”
“Anything for my favorite grandmother on a Sunday morning,” I say as I place the breakfast tray on the dressing table and pull the heavy drapes back to let the morning sun pour in.
“I’m your only living grandmother,” she replies with a smile.
“And being alive gives you a distinct advantage in my affections.” I place the tray across her lap and lower myself onto the end of her bed.
She eyes the envelopes on the tray, her white brows pulled together. “More final demand notices, I suppose.”
“We’ll need to pay the electricity bill, but the others will have to wait. Now, you enjoy breakfast. I’m going to get some writing in before I tackle that leaking tap under the kitchen sink.”
“It’s leaking again?”
“Nona, the whole place is falling around our ears. The leaking kitchen tap is the first task on my rather lengthy to-do list for today.”
“You’re such an angel, my darling Val. What would I do without you?”
I smile at my grandmother. “Hold house parties with frat boys?”
“I mean it.”
“I’m just trying to hold it all together, Nona. That’s all.”
She takes a sip of her tea. “Lovely cup of tea, Val. While you write, I’m going to tackle the weeds in the garden.”
“Just be careful. I don’t want you breaking a hip or something.”
“I might be getting old, but I’m not frail, thank you.”
“You’ve still got it, Nona.” I place a kiss on her forehead. “See you downstairs?”
“In a bit. I’m going to revel in the luxury of breakfast in bed.” She reaches for me, her crepey hand clasping my wrist. “You don’t deserve to have to live this way, Val.”
“Nona, we've been through this. It's not your fault what happened, and we’re fine. Right?”
“Your father always said he was innocent.”
This old tune.
