“Thanks, ah…thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to properly express my gratitude. “You’re a good guy.”
“I am. Better than my brother, anyway.”
I laughed, the sound slightly hysterical, but only because the thought of Alexio sent my head spinning. But he wasn’t wrong. Though he also wasn’t exactly right. “Let me know if anything comes up.”
“I will.” His words actually sounded like “I won’t,” but I didn’t call him on it.
Instead, I made my way outside before digging my phone out of my pocket and calling for a car. It was ten minutes away,which was just enough time to rest my head against the brick, turn my face up to the soft glow of the sun, and let all the agony of that afternoon fizzle away.
The last thing I wanted to do was hang out with Vanya that evening. Which wasn’t anything against him, really. But my dad’s words had drained me, and what I really wanted was to crawl under my covers and rot.
Food was hard again. I managed half a peanut butter sandwich before I felt like sicking it all up, so I took a long, hot bath, then got dressed and made sure lights were on. Vanya texted me that he was on his way, so when the buzzer sounded, I was ready for him.
Well, I was mostly ready for him.
“You’re about to meet your best friend,” I told Athena, who was weaving her way through my legs. She had a fun fetish of trying to make me fall on my face whenever new people came over. Her little bell jingled happily.
Opening the door, I braced myself for his hug. It was big. And intense. He lifted me off my feet, then immediately let go and fell to his knees beside me.
“Oh my god, she is little goddess. Is why you call her Athena?”
“Uh…something like that.” I didn’t want to relive the weird tale of her rescue.
“Oh, little face. Why is her little face?”
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong with her face?”
“No, I—” He grunted as he stood up, and I heard the sound of him brushing off his jeans. “Sorry. I only come to America two years ago. I was in Canada before, you know? I learnEnglish from watching show on TV about people with a lot of Botox selling California houses.”
“Oh. Yikes.”
He snorted. “Yes. Was maybe not…best influence. But I know I should get tutor or something…”
“Hey, no.” He sounded actually upset. I reached out and found his arm and gave it a careful squeeze. “Vanny no. You’re fine. I’m just a little distracted tonight.” I stepped around him and closed the door all the way. “Are the lights on in here?”
“Yes,” he said. “Very nice apartment. Boston homes are so pretty. Old. You don’t see a lot in US, right?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I grew up in Toronto, so it was different.” I led him inside, toward the living room first, but then I remembered he was going to cook, so I pivoted and walked to the kitchen. “Anyway, if you still want to cook?—”
He shook something that sounded like a heavy plastic bag. “Yes. Have everything right here. I decide not to make you Russian food. I’m make some curry instead.”
“That’s…I mean, I love curry, so that’s fine. But?—”
“Is okay. My ammi’s recipe. My mother,” he clarified.
“Oh—so you’re…”
“Mm, yes. My mother from Islamabad, but she go to school in London where she and my father meet…oh. I can cook right here, yes?”
“Yeah, I—hang on.” I was reeling a little. I’d had no idea about Vanya. At all. But then again, that happened to me a lot. Pushing past him, I inspected the kitchen to see what exactly Alexio had put back wrong. I hadn’t done anything more than make a sandwich, and I’d forgotten to check.
But as my hands moved over the counters and through drawers and cupboards, I realized it was all in order. Every bit of it.
Fuck, that had never happened.
I cleared my throat. “Ah…just try to put everything back where you got it. If you’re not sure, just throw it in the sink, and I’ll put it away.”
“Okay. Promise to be good boy. Best boy.”
