Grigory Kucherov has been our family’s cook since Dmitri was born. He’s a good friend of our doctor’s family. The Petrovs and the Kucherovs are technically family through a distant marriage, but they don’t call each other brothers or even cousins.
Either way, at Dr. Petrov’s recommendation, my father hired Grigory and he’s been with us ever since. He’s got to be in his sixties now, but he’s still cooking three meals a day, preparingsnacks, and apparently making the only coffee Aunt Irina considers worthy. I wouldn’t know, since I avoid caffeine at all costs, and never developed a taste for it to feel inclined to try decaf.
He makes all my meals without complaint, though. Even though it usually means cooking my food separately. He does it every single day without fail, and his consistency is comforting.
Dad chuckles. “Grigory is far too loyal to be swayed by a pretty face.”
My aunt smirks. “Anton, you flatterer.”
“That’s enough of that,” Uncle Lev grumbles, tugging his wife backward so that she has to lean into his front. “Let’s go get you a coffee,zhena.”
My aunt sends me a smile. “Join us?”
The denial leaves me before I can stop it. “No, thank you. I still have to meditate and shower this morning.”
Her smile doesn’t falter, but I see the disappointment in her eyes. Hating it, more words pour out of me. They’re unplanned and not even close to being thought through, but they leave my lips all the same.
“I’m doing yoga tomorrow morning, though. If you want to join me.”
Surprise brightens her expression and she nods immediately. “That sounds great. I’ll be here. Text me the time?”
I swallow my nerves. “Yeah, okay. Talk soon.” Before I allow my anxiety to show, I excuse myself and walk swiftly inside. I make it to my room in record time, jogging up the stairs to get there as quickly as possible.
I don’t feel a rush of panic trying to claw at me, nor do I feel like I’m going to be sick. Taking a few deep breaths to check in on myself, I try to start my routine for the day.
Unfortunately, after nearly an hour of trying to clear my mind enough to meditate, I give up. Anxiety doesn’t plagueme, but a busy and worrisome mind does. I’ve gotten used to solitude, and inviting my aunt to do yoga with me feels more like a giant leap than the small step that it really is.
My shower is much more relaxing than my failed attempt at centering myself on my yoga mat was. It’s steamy warm and the relaxing flow of water over my skin is enough to distract me into thinking happier thoughts.
Thoughts of Matteo.
I think of what I’m going to text him the entire time I’m getting ready for the day. While I’m finishing my shower, drying my hair, doing my skincare, and through my daily no-makeup makeup routine.
When I’m sufficiently pampered and dressed, I finally pull my phone out and decide to send only a simple greeting to start.
Anya
Good morning :)
His response comes faster than I expect.
Matteo
A morning, it is. More like hectic than good, though.
Matteo
Are you up for a FaceTime? Typing is a bit hard right now LOL.
Curious but open to the proposal, I set my phone on the vanity. I was going to go lie in bed to text him, but he replied so fast that I haven’t even gotten up yet.
Anya
FaceTime works.
I answer his call too fast to be considered cool, but I’m too surprised by the image that fills my screen to regret it.
Two babies in his lap, one reaching up to grab the arm that holds his phone out, and the other peacefully resting.
