My Wife's Li'l Secret (20 page)

I arrived home from work to find an overdone, dry pot roast, charred and unrecognizable, along with vegetables and lumpy mash. Olga had almost cooked dinner.
Cremated
dinner, actually.

Something had to be up. She wanted money. What else could she want?

“Smells good,” I said, playing along.

She beamed and thrust a beer at me. “I spent all day slaving over a hot stove for you,” she said in a low, throaty voice.

“You did. Thank you,” I said in what I hoped was a sincere, appreciative voice.

To avoid suspicion, I accepted the beer from her, but I did not drink it. There was a good chance it was laced with arsenic or drain cleaner.

My head twisted around for my daughters.

“Arena took them to a movie,” Olga said before I could ask.

“Ah!” Satisfied they were in good hands, I looked around. No overflowing cigarette ashtrays, no empty beer bottles, no discarded chocolate wrappers, and no Cruikshank.

The table had been set for two, with candles lit.

As I took in her simple black t-shirt, her clean jeans, her no make-up look (like Nadia), and her nervous smile, I knew a plan was in full swing and I had to give her an E for effort.

I actually smiled and she, thinking I was smiling at her, smiled back at me.

With the corner of my eye, I saw Girly at the kitchen sink, trying to appear invisible, but watching both of us with curious eyes. When our eyes met, Girly made a face and patted her pocket which housed the Voodoo doll. It took a lot out of me not to laugh out loud.

“Come sit,” Olga said, pulling a chair for me. “Let’s eat.”

I sat at the table and she brought out the mess she called dinner. As if I would touch food from someone as disgusting as her.

“I grabbed a bite at the office,” I said. “But you eat.” I looked at Girly. “Can I have a cup of your wonderful Chinese tea, please?”

After staring at me for a few seconds, Girly silently went about brewing her concoction.

Olga sliced up the roast and pretended to eat. “I want to take the kids to Ukraine.”

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

It explained the dinner, the lack of make-up, and the cold beer. And of course, her added measure of dressing like Nadia was supposed to work wonders.

“The children?” My voice was smooth. I too could act.

“Yes. It’s my parents' anniversary, and they’re having a party. They’d like to see the kids.”

The same parents who died years ago? Is it a zombie party, you lying whore?

"When?” I asked, fighting to act casual.

“In the next week. I want you to come too.”

Even though I wanted to say, “Okay,” I didn’t. I needed to come across as authentic. “What for?” I said instead, injecting a ting of irritability into my voice. “You’re with that moron now. The one you chose over me. Besides, you know I have work, Olga.”

I accepted the tea from Girly. “Thanks. Did you put sugar in it?”

“No, no sugar!” she snapped. “You drink Chinese tea with no sugar!” With a dramatic swirl, she stormed off, leaving me wide-eyed and staring after her.

Was my housekeeper jealous that I was having dinner with my
wife
?

“I also want to take you and the girls to our baby’s grave.”

My eyes shot up to Olga’s.

She nodded, shoulders suddenly hunched, a somber look on her face. “I…I think about him all the time. He looked just like you, Ritchie.” She wiped away a crocodile tear.

What a low-life. Imagine lying about a baby like that.

“I know we’ve had our differences, but let’s just put them aside and let’s give him a tombstone he deserves.” Her voice was soft and sincere.

Had I not trusted my gut, got on a plane and went to Ukraine, had I not discovered Nadia and Gareth, I would probably have fell for her act.

She reached out to touch my arm. “The kids are drawing pictures for their brother and I want you to be there to say goodbye to him.”

As I stared at her hand on my arm, her touch reminded me of the time I awoke in a hammock at a camping site to find a hairy black, gold, and purple caterpillar the size of my index finger on my bare arm. I had shrugged it off and yelled like a girl.

At that moment, I wanted to shrug off her hand and take a scalding shower.

“What about Cruikshank?” I asked instead.

“He understands.” The hairy caterpillar said as she stroked my arm. “Don’t worry about him. We’re talking about a baby here. Just for a couple of days, Ritchie. Please!”

“Olga, I have to work to make money to pay Aris—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll postpone payment for you. Aristov will listen to me. Don’t feel any pressure.”

She was making it easy for me to go to Ukraine, where I was to spend my last days chained to a radiator until they whacked me.

Another E for effort.

There was no way I was going to allow my girls to go to Ukraine. Absolutely not.

I looked up at the ceiling and wriggled my mouth, giving the impression that I was mulling over it.

“Please, Ritchie!”

The way she said my name, it was meant to be soft and seductive, but man, it was like someone was slowly dragging long fingernails on a chalkboard. My wince was involuntary.

She peered at me. “What?”

“Nothing. I…I…look, lemmee think ’bout it,” I said, getting to my feet.

“I need a shower,” I muttered as I walked away. (To wash away the remains of that hairy caterpillar.)

When I emerged from a long, hot shower, I looked for Olga, curious to see what she was up to.

I found her on the patio, speaking on the phone in animated Russian, arms flapping in the air. Obviously she was talking to Cruikshank.

Even more surprising, when Cruikshank returned home that night, he actually said, “Hello!” to me. If that wasn’t sucking up, I didn’t know what was.

Stunned as I was, I quickly recovered and played along, greeted him back.

It’s fun playing this game, I thought to myself. This dangerous game of survival.

****

Up till then, I had not mentioned the issue of Becky’s paternity to Bear and Arena, mainly because I found it really hard to talk about it. Saying it out loud would have meant that I had to deal with it. I had neither the time nor the energy to do that.

But it was time.

We sat around their dining table, and over whisky and beef ribs, I told them about Olga's insinuation that night she was intoxicated.

Both Bear and Arena looked at me slack-jawed.

Arena recovered first. “Oh my God!” she cried as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God!”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Bear said, pointing a half-finished rib at me. “She was just drunk and rambling, Ritchie. She could be bullshitting, man. With that woman, you never—”

“I don’t think she was,” I said in a quiet voice as I absentmindedly twirled my whisky glass around. “The next day, when I asked her about it, she shot me down in flames. Protested far too much. Made me think she knows something.”

Bear and Arena fell silent, the air in the room gravid with unasked questions.

“Aristov and his men had full control over the women, if you know what I mean. So Nadia, she…” That lump that appeared in my throat each time I thought about Becky’s paternity returned.

Both Bear and Arena pushed aside their plates and another long silence followed.

“So…so…like, what are you gonna do, Ritchie?” Bear asked, a grim look on his face.

I shook my head slowly and stood up. “I don’t want to know.”

He nodded, his eyes glued to my face.

I walked over to Arena, knelt before her, and wiped away her tears.

“She’s my daughter, Arena. I feel it in my bones. I just know that she’s mine.”

“Okay,” she said quickly, her head bobbing. “Okay, sure. Okay. Of course!” She grabbed a table napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “I think you’re right,” she said in a falsetto voice. “Yeah...sure…yeah…”

“But I’m doing a DNA test for little Gareth.”

Both Bear and Arena looked at me.

“You are? You’re doing a DNA…?”

I nodded at Arena. “Brought an old pacifier of his back and submitted it. With him I have to know. I mean, I will take care of him whatever the situation, but I need to know if Nadia can be trusted. Know what I’m saying?”

“Sure,” they chorused.

“Might be a good idea, Big,” Bear said. “When will you know?”

“’Bout ten days’ time.”

“This is…” he shook his head, “this is really complicated.”

“It is,” I said, walking back to my chair. “And it gets worse.”

I told them about Maxine, and how EasyBank had turned down my loan.

“Don’t worry ’bout that, Big,” Bear said. “We’ll cover you on that hundred
g
s.”

“Yeah,” Arena said. “That’s not a problem at all. We’ll help there, Ritchie.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you guys back with interest.”

“Aristov will, not you!” Bear said, his face darkening.

I nodded. “Let’s go over the plan again.”

For the next couple of hours we brainstormed, plotted, and planned.

****

Later that evening, Olga accosted me while I was in the shower. Just opened the door and barged in. “I need an answer.”

“’Bout what?”

“Ukraine.” Her eyes dropped to my crotch and lingered there.

“Fine, fine,” I said as I lathered up, feeling extremely self-conscious. (I’m shy, remember?) “Just for a few days though. I have work.”

She clapped her hands, her eyes lighting up. “Friday?”

My mouth distorted. “I have a meeting on Monday. Can’t miss that. Very important.”

Even though they were identical twins, Nadia and Olga only looked the same. Their mannerisms, likes, and dislikes were worlds apart. While Olga demanded instant gratification, Nadia was giving and understanding.

For Olga to act and behave like Nadia must have been a huge strain on her, and that is probably why she had to bring in Cruikshank. He helped her
endure
her load-the-dishwasher-unload-the-dishwasher-over-and-over-again life in Sydney.

“But…but…”

“Why don’t you guys go ahead, and I will come on Tuesday? Or Monday
night
? If I can get a flight, that is.”

“Eh…”

“I’ll bring Girly and the kids with me. She’ll give me a hand.” She had no idea that Girly was an illegal who possessed no valid travel document.

“No, not Girly! Just the kids. And you.”

As I expected.

“Not Girly? Why?” I threw that question in to avoid suspicion.

She shook her head, then gave a dismissive wave.

With a weary sigh, I turned off the taps. “Okay, fine. Just me and the kids. But I want to stay in a hotel, not with your family.” I started to towel off and headed to my room.

“Sure. That’s fine. Sure. Okay.” She glanced behind her, which made me think that Cruikshank was listening outside my room.

She left and I got changed.

About ten minutes later, I walked downstairs. Olga walked up to me, placed her arms on her hips, looked me in the eye and said, “I think I should take the kids with me.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Behind her was Cruikshank, watching me. They had obviously talked, and Cruikshank was worried I wouldn’t show with the kids. Fear bubbled inside of me. Were they onto me?

“Oh,” I said and shrugged. “Whatever.” Quickly, I turned away so that she couldn’t see my frown lines.

She ran in front of me and blocked my path, a defiant look on her face.

“We go together.” The pursed lips, hard eyes, and hands on her hips caused my fear to mushroom.

“I’m not travelling with that arsehole,” I said. “Get that straight.”

Her sigh was one of exasperation.

“Olga, me and him on the same flight for twenty odd hours? You must be joking!”

She didn’t answer.

“And him?” I jerked my head toward the arsehole outside. “You think he’s going to be able to tolerate two kids cooped up on a flight for so many hours? Two kids under five, restless and fidgety? Without taking it out on you? Huh?”

She blinked rapidly, a thoughtful look on her face.

“He'll get so irritable, he’ll probably bash you and the kids. You want that?”

She turned and looked at him, a thoughtful look on her face.

So far so good.

“Think about it,” I threw over my shoulder as I strolled away.

“We have a problem with mold in the garage,” she yelled. “It’s all over the suitcases. I won’t be able to use them.”