The Language of Sisters (27 page)

“That'll be when?”

He knocked his fists together. “As soon as the kids are through college.”

“You do know that Koa is three?”

His shoulders slumped. “It'll never happen will it? Will it? Will it?”

Ailani bounced up, hung on her father, and said, “Aunt Toni, I'm studying Jack the Ripper and I'm writing my book report on him.”

“You are?” I slammed my teeth together so I wouldn't chuckle. “Well, that's almost criminal.”

She seemed confused. She brushed hair back from her widow's peak. “It's not criminal to write a report on Jack the Ripper. I'm reading a biography on him. Four hundred pages. I'm going to get one of those five feet by three feet bulletin board thingies and I'm going to make a time line of the murders with all the photos I can find. Then I'm going to draw a huge picture of Jack the Ripper from the back because they don't know who he was, not exactly, and I'm going to paint the edges red. Do you know why red?”

“For the blood?”

“No.” She was baffled by my ignorance. “Because then the picture will pop out way better. It's important to consider color.”

“Your teacher will be surprised.”

“By what?” She was, once again, confounded by my question. “I like what Aunt JJ did with your braids.” She skipped off to give my mother a hug.

* * *

My father gave me a hug and a kiss. “Ah, Antonia. You are movie star. JJ did pretty job with your hair. Now, you tell me everything. I haven't seen you since Monday. So. Start at the beginning. What you do on Tuesday? Ah, I see ... what about Wednesday ... Now you tell me, Thursday?”

* * *

“I think, I do truly think,” Anya whispered to me over veal ragout, served on white plates, with crystal glasses nearby filled with wine, “that I have chips of bones in my neck. I think my spine is deteriorating. That can happen. I studied it on the Internet. Listen to my neck when I move my head. Are you ready? Lean in, lean in closer ...”

“I'm so close I could kiss your neck.”

“Take this seriously, Toni. Did you hear it crack? It crackles, pops, scratches. What do you think that is?”

“I think it's normal.”

“It's not normal. I think I'm going to go to the emergency room.”

“Don't go for a disintegrating neck. Go to the doctor's in the morning.”

“My doctor said I'm a hypochondriac.”

“Do you think he's right?”

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “No. Duh. I think he's sick in the head. I told him that. I told him that I was seeing signs of dementia in him.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he was going to forget I had come in for another appointment.”

I laughed.

She glared. “I do have a disintegrating neck, Toni. That is not in dispute.”

Of course it wasn't.

“I like what JJ did to your hair.”

“Why do you think JJ did it? Maybe I did it.”

She made a no-one-believes-that sound in her throat.

“How's the play going, Anya?”

* * *

Boris swooped on in, hugging everyone. He saw me and made a beeline.

“How's the car stealing going?”

“I don't steal cars, I fix them. And if I do steal them to fix them, it's only from the spoiled and the wealthy. You're going to lose your head over this one, Toni.” He flashed two tickets, underneath his coat, grinning like a banshee. “I have two tickets to
Carmen
. Will you go with me? Please? You're the only one in the family who won't laugh at me when I cry at the opera.”

“Happy to go, thanks, Boris. But don't steal a car to get to the opera. If you were arrested, it would be embarrassing.”

He was appalled. “I don't steal cars, but that would be my nightmare. Missing ‘La Fleur Que Tu M'avais Jetée.' ” He shivered. “Don't even suggest such a thing.” He studied my hair. “Man, JJ can do anything with hair, can't she?”

* * *

I asked Uncle Sasho how he was and he said, his short, frizzy hair seeming to move on its own accord, “Two daughters, make clothes for the stripper, can't believe it. But—” He paused, raising his bushy eyebrows in acceptance. “It a business. They make the money. And I have one boy, dancer. Gay.” He paused again, the eyebrows shot back up. “But, he talented. No sign of wife who left me. She no call. Maybe, soon, I get another wife. You think someone have me? I don't know. I not handsome. But”—those eyebrows shot up once more—“I be a right husband. How are you, my Antonia? Pretty hair. My niece, JJ, she knows the hair.”

I asked Uncle Vladan how he was, and he said, “Woe on my life. My daughter. Anya. Actress. No husband. No babies. Thinks she sick all the time. Last time, she say I have to listen to her knees. Thinks a bee in there or something. Tonight she think her neck disappearing. Boris, his mechanic business, it thriving. Many cars. What you doing, Antonia? So beautiful with your hairs like that. JJ can fix any hairs.”

I asked Aunt Holly how she was. “I'm fine. Remember, I teach kindergarteners. Two boys had a squirting war in the bathroom on Friday. One girl asked me what it was like to have dinosaurs around when I was younger.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I liked to ride on their backs. I had a number of them as pets and I put leashes on them.”

“Did she believe you?”

“Those little sweethearts believe everything. One girl told me that her mommy said she got a baby in her stomach because she drank too much wine. But how are you, Toni? Love your hair, by the way. I have to go and see JJ again soon, too.”

Why did everyone assume I hadn't done my own hair? Okay. I knew that answer.

* * *

Ellie, Valerie, and I met on the rim of the bathtub with our wine for a few minutes away from the Kozlovsky cacophony. Ellie needed a break from Gino, too. He was by her side, attentive. She was nearly nonbreathing, her bag to her face.

“One of Tyler Barton's cousins was obnoxious in court today and the judge kicked him out.” Valerie took a long drink of wine.

“What did he do?” Ellie asked.

“When I walked up to question a witness, he whispered, ‘Dead woman walking.' Security was all over it, hauled him up and out. Then he shouted, ‘Dead woman walking,' three times. He smirked at me. He went to jail. Threatening a prosecutor.”

“Geez, Valerie.” The chilly, squirming snake of fear wound around my spinal cord again.

“What about the other Bartons?” Ellie asked, bag away from her face for ten seconds.

“They're allowed to stay. They didn't do anything.”

“When I went the other day I couldn't believe it. Police, security, suits,” I said.

“They're on it. The Bartons are rabid. Thanks again for coming down. You, too, Ellie. I liked having you both there.”

“I'm worried,” I said.

“So am I,” Ellie said.

“The trial has me up at night, I'll tell you that,” Valerie said. “This is a whole different breed of human.”

“Let's have a bath hug,” I said. The tub was huge, the three of us lay in it, arms around each other.

Our mama walked in. She was not surprised to find us in the bath together. “
Tsk
. I cannot have tub like this, because I never be able to work. Your papa”—she pointed a finger upward—“he would—”

“Mama!” we shouted.

* * *

Uncle Yuri and Aunt Polina stood in front of all of us, straight shots of Russian vodka in hand. Uncle Yuri made a speech, in English, following the Kozlovsky family's motto, “Speaky the English,” and ended it with, “Polina is the love of my life. My life be nothing without Polina.”

And Aunt Polina ended her speech with, “Yuri, we not divorce because I have patience of saint, thank you Lord. Many times, I want to hit you in face with pan. My silver pan, not the special new pan from JJ. I like that red pan. Don't want no damage. You drive me crazy in the head”—she tapped her head in case we had forgotten where her head was—“but I love you, old man.”

“Ack! What? Am I not good husband, Polina?” Poor Uncle Yuri!

“You okay, old horse. You could be worse, could be better.” She kissed him. “So, next two decades before you die like old rat, you be nicer to me. More flowers. You buy me nicer car, too. I want car that goes zoom, like on the commercials on the TV, you cheap skater. Is that the word, cheap skater? And you no give me bad time when I buy the new dresses. You get it now, old man?”

Yuri nodded. “Ya. Okay, Polina.”

Well now! That was romantic enough for the Kozlovsky gang! We cheered, “To Yuri, to Polina ... to family ... to the Kozlovskys ...” Bottoms up.

* * *

My cousins/spouses, etc., and I ended up at a bar later.

As Boris said, “We're all going out. We want everyone to be together.”

We were noisy, laughing, playing a light drinking game once we were all crammed around a table together.

There should not have been a bar fight, but a man was too aggressive with Zoya and she swung her purse at his head and conked him. That pissed him off, and he charged Zoya, but Boris, who is not unfamiliar with street fighting, and Jax, who has a tough side, jumped in, along with Tati, who screeched in outrage and jumped on the offender's back. One of the conked guy's friends joined in, and Kai tried to break it up, along with Gino, who is sweet but no wimp. Another of the conked guy's friends jumped in and so, too, did the rest of us Kozlovsky women.

The police came. We knew a bunch of them, but we scooted on out, laughing so hard I wet my pants, a tiny trickle.

We called taxis and the Kozlovskys scattered into the night.

* * *

“Are you going to invite me to your sister's wedding, Toni?”

“No.”

Nick was not pleased. I couldn't blame him. I blamed myself. We were naked, in his bed. I had brought dinner. Pasta with chicken and parmesan. Hot bread. Beer. We ate dinner on his deck, we talked about our days, Nick kept kissing me, I kept laughing, and we ended up in his bath, then his bed, by nine.

“Why?”

“Because. My family is loud and noisy and nosy and I can't bring you yet.”

“We can sleep together but I can't meet your family?”

“Right.” I am a cold piranha-like human. “I'm sorry.”

“So am I, Toni. We need to talk about this.”

“There's nothing to say. I'm not ready to introduce you to my family.”

“You're not ready for anything.”

I got up to go, anger flashing right through me, along with guilt and a dose of deep sadness. I did not need this. I didn't need the stress or the pressure.

He caught my wrist. “Why don't you quit running and talk to me?”

“Because we don't need to talk about anything, and why did you have to spoil a fun night?”

“I didn't want to spoil it, and yes, we do have to talk.”

“Why? Things are fine. We like to sleep together now and then.”

“Now and then, Toni?” I didn't miss the incredulous tone. “Most nights. We also like talking, being outside on the deck, and reading together in bed, to name a few things.”

“That's enough.”

“It's not enough for me, babe.”

“It's all I can give.”

The silence was a zinging, tight cord between us. Yank, yank, yank.

“I know what you're doing, Nick.”

“What am I doing?”

“You're trying to figure out how best to handle me, and I don't appreciate it. You're trying to figure out how to get what you want, how to make me change my mind, how to make me see things your way in our relationship.”

“You're a brilliant woman, and that's one of the things I like best about you, but you're also making me sound manipulative.”

“Aren't you being manipulative?”

“No, I'm not. I'm trying to change where we are in this relationship. I like you, Toni. You are the most remarkable woman I have ever met, and I know you've been through a hard time.”

I felt the tears. The tears always seemed to start in my heart. “Everyone's been through a hard time.”

He nodded. “Yes. But you have been through a particularly hard time.”

“You're making my brain tired. I don't like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Nick, that I can't take the tired. I can't take more stress. I don't want either in my life. I want a relationship that's only for us. I want you to be an island. That sounds stupid, but I want you to be the place I can go to where everything is smooth. Peaceful. I don't want to tell you all my problems. I don't want to delve deep into your life, because I can't handle the job that you do and the threat to your life and how you sometimes get in fights and get cuts and bruises, and I don't want to have to worry about you, and care, and be at home wondering if some drug addict has attacked you. It's too much. And I don't want anything serious, because I would feel overwhelmed.”

“I don't want to make you feel overwhelmed. I don't want to make you tired. I don't want to cause you stress. I don't want you to worry about me when I'm at work. That's not my intention at all.”

“But I do worry about you already, and I'm ticked off about that.” Super-ticked off. How dare he make me worry?

“I'm sorry, Toni.”

“You should be, Nick.” I knew my tone was angry. I knew it sounded silly to get angry at Nick because his job made me worry. “I told you from the start what I wanted, and you agreed to it.”