She hesitated when we stood. “Zoltán…” She turned to me, an awkward smile tilting her lips. Her hand reached for my bicep, and I let it land there. “I just… I watched your video. And I wanted to tell you how proud I am of how much you’ve improved. It was really brave of you to post that online and… you deserve happiness.”
“Thank—thank you,” I said, surprised that my immediate response was to reply in English.
Her smile tightened, and the dogs and I went to walk her out when three raps sounded on the wooden door.
Two quick raps, followed by a third.
It couldn’t be—it wouldn’t be—
It was Mum coming back because she’d forgotten something. She had a key. She always knocked, though, as if to protect my privacy.
I hadn’t had privacy in months, which was why I hadbecome a recluse in my home.
“See you tomorrow,” Marnie said and opened the door.
Cold air rushed in. She took one step, watching her feet, and then froze, her shoulders lifting. The dogs rushed forward, tails immediately up, and Vincent let out a puppy howl.
Marnie took two steps to the side, and she looked over her shoulder at me.
But I hardly saw her.
Fia.
Her hair was back, slick with rain. One gloved hand was shoved in her pocket, the other was bare, her knuckles as red as her nose in the mid-February cold. Her travel bag was at her feet. Not a suitcase.
Bodri whined, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. Her lips parted, and I didn’t breathe, waiting for her to speak.
But then she looked at Marnie, and her mouth turned into a thin line.
I couldn’t find words. Everything I’d rehearsed was so far out of reach. In Hungarian and English. My mouth wouldn’t move.
I pushed the door further open as Vincent jumped up at Fia’s knees.
“Vin, get down,” I scolded, but she stroked his head without looking at him, and he was happy enough, sitting at her feet.
“Szervusz,” I said. The first word I’d ever heard her say.Hello. I’m at your service.
“Szervusz.”It was a breath, hardly a word, but it was her sound, and I was hearing it amongst the howl of the wind on my doorstep with my ears.
Fia.
Marnie squeezed my elbow, and she said in English, “Good night, Zoltán. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Fia watched her with wide eyes and turned to make sure she left down the drive and got in her car.
Her eyes flicked from the dogs to me to the doormat. “Can we talk?” She swallowed, looking up at me with her dark, beautiful eyes. “Please.”
I stepped back, because if she came closer, I’d reach out and touch her. “Yes. Please.”
The air was thick with an awkwardness that had never existed between us. My words were coming out formal.
The unruly dogs — Vincent with his puppy energy and Bodri with his grey-muzzled defiance — were already at her feet. The others rushed to her the second she stepped over the threshold.
I closed the door, still holding onto it for dear life, in case my legs gave way.
She laughed — her voice strained and not her own — and bent to stroke them all as quickly as she could so none of them felt left out. Like she did every time she came home.
“Vinny, you’re so big now!”
