“What?”
“Well-being and all. You want to step out before I’m spotted?”
“Uh…” I fumbled for some slippers, but it was too late. She’d sighted him.
“Come in, come in! It’s cold, close the door you’re letting the heat out, come in!” Mama chirped. Misha glanced at me with a cringe asking if there was any use fighting. I shook my head.
“You got beer?” he whispered, his hefty form taking up the hallway as he sat to slip off his boots.
“No, you’ll have to go in defenseless,” I told him and took the flowers to the living room, where Mama was already preparing for war.
“Who is this?” she whispered, seeing the roses. “Katya, it is not good to bring so many men around. I know that at your age you have to—”
“Mama, no!” I hissed. “These are from Vitali. Misha is his… friend.”
The condemnation of my soul left her face and she pranced over to Misha who followed me into the room. For someone claiming knee injury, she was sure spry when it came to receiving company.
Much like Vitali, Misha was trapped for dinner. He took up an entire side of the table, and even then looked strained. But, he made Mama very happy with how much he ate—complimenting her cooking all along the way. She made borsch, and he said it was his favorite.‘Just like my babushka makes.’
“One day I’ll be a babushka,” Mama sighed, tragically shaking her head. “Although maybe I’ll grow old and die before that happens.”
I rolled my eyes.
When she began clearing the table, Misha wiped his face withthe back of his sleeve and leaned forward, doing his best to keep the volume down. He wasn’t very successful.
“You okay?”
“What? I’m fine,” I said.
He shook his head in frustration, then his eyes darted to the door where Mama disappeared with the nearly empty pot.
“Listen here, Katya. I’m supposed to tell Vitali if anything happens. Well, things happened. And I need to tell him. So.”
My fingers dug into my lap under the table. “I’m fine.”
“There’s traffic, and it’s cold as ass out there. I’m already late—even if it’s a worthy cause, and let me tell you, this isn’t a worthy cause. So make it short.”
I opened and closed my mouth. The sound of water splashing said Mama began the dishes.
“Were you—? The man who..?” I asked under my breath.
“No,” Misha said matter-of-factly.
I sighed, placated but not defeated. “Yes, I’m fine. I fell and my butt is a little bruised, but I’m fine. I didn’t go to work today.”
“Hm.” He seemed satisfied and leaned back, just to bump his shaved head against the bookcase. “So not hurt? Nothing was taken?”
“Can I talk to Vitali?”
“No.”
I crossed my arms. “I’ll tell Mama you like mint chocolate. She’s been reserving a box since her birthday in February for just such an occasion. You won’t leave for hours.”
His nostrils flared. “I do like mint chocolate, but—”
“MAMA!”
It surprised me once again how fast Misha moved, because his giant hand was clasped over my mouth before the word was out, but the damage was done. In ten minutes before us sat teaand mint chocolates… and some crumbly cookies that probably predated World War II.
