Tonic (31 page)

Joel’s eyes screamed at me, begging me to look, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I forged on.

“And so, to Kazimir, we say goodbye. I hope that your heaven that awaits is full of bright yellow canaries and big windows where you can watch the cars all day. I hope there are warm squares of sun for you to nap in and couches to scratch without anyone to stop you. I hope your belly is always full of milk and fresh fish and that there’s someone to hold your face and tell you how lovely and horrible and crazy you are. We’ll miss you, old friend.”

I bent down, extending an arm to Kira, and she slipped out from under Joel’s arm and next to the table. I took her seat, twisting my hands in my lap, unprepared to be next to Joel. The heat of him, his body so close to mine — I could feel him through the space between us like he was calling me.

Kira clasped her hands in front of her, bobbing her head as she sang, in Russian, a children’s song with a shaky voice, her eyes trained on the ceiling and around to the walls, avoiding looking at any of us. Even that young, she tried not to cry and knew that if she did meet our eyes, she wouldn’t be able to stop her tears.

In a far, far away Kingdom,

Where there is a castle, a river and a garden,

Maybe a hundred, maybe two hundred years ago

Only lived cats,

And more cats,

Kingdom of the cats,

Kingdom of the cats was there.

Cats, cats,
 

Cats and cats

Cats, cats, cats,

Furry tails.

In be Kingdom of the cats, they happily lived-

Made fairytales, made songs, danced and sang.

Cat king, Princess kitten,

Ruled happily over their land.

Danced, had fun every day.

Milliner and washer woman cats,

Cooks, artists,

Kingdom of the cats,

Kingdom of the cats was there

Cats, cats, cats,

Cats and cats

Cats, cats, cats,

Furry tails.

In the kingdom of the cats,

Lived happily,

Made fairytales, made songs, danced and sang.

Throughout her song, I wanted to reach for his hand, which rested in his lap. But I was no longer welcome to touch him, particularly for comfort. I’d done that and paid the price.

When she was finished, her cheeks were pink and she looked to me.
 

“And now,” she announced, “Anni will sing ‘Let It Go’ for Kaz. It was his favorite.”

I stood and we switched places again. In part, I hated the idea of singing a Disney song in front of anyone, not only for the fact that it was maybe the most played out song in the history of Disney songs, but because I never sang in front of people. But there was my whole family and the guy whose heart I wrecked, and Kira, my sweet Bunny, waiting for me to sing it to give her reprieve. And I couldn’t deny her that.

So I took a breath and began to sing. I sang like she was the only one in the room, though it took me a second to find my footing. But when I did, I sang. I sang it loud and proud, my eyes on her the whole time, if they weren’t closed. I told her to let it go, to be strong, to leave her hurt behind her and keep going.

When I was finished, she bounded out of her seat and rushed me, and I knelt to meet her, closing my eyes.

“I love you, Kira. I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I love you too, Anni,” she whispered back shakily. “I miss him.”

“Me too.” She was so small in my arms, my hand splayed against her back as we hugged until I had to let her go.
 

She took her seat again, and I made the mistake of looking at Joel. His eyes told me a thousand things I couldn’t decipher, and my heart said a thousand things he couldn’t hear. But it said them all the same.

Joel

Annika looked away, and for that I was thankful. Because when she looked at me like that, I forgot why I hated her so much. When I witnessed her sadness firsthand, heard the catch in her voice as she sang a song I was sure she didn’t like to a little girl who she loved so much, it was hard to remember.
 

But I had to remember. Because what she’d done couldn’t be undone, not by something so simple as a song at a cat funeral.

When Kira took her seat again, Annika stood and spoke, avoiding my eyes. “I have one more song to sing for Kaz, and for Mama for saving him, and for Papa for taking care of all of us. And I wanted to thank you all again. It means so much to us that you’re here.” She looked to Kira, then briefly to me before threading her hands in front of her and taking a deep breath.

Somewhere in the first line of the song — “Blackbird” by The Beatles — my heart stopped, then started again with a painful thump in my ribs. She didn’t cry, but her eyes were wide and shining, as she sang of his broken wings learning to fly, her cheeks flushed and knuckles white where they twined together as she sang of his freedom. And she said goodbye to her old friend as a little girl leaned into my side, her breath hiccuping as she cried with the openness that only a child could have.
 

When the song ended, we all stood, and Max walked from the second row to pick up the pine box. We followed him through the kitchen and to the backyard, under a hemlock tree where he’d dug a small grave. Some words were spoken in Russian and maybe Hebrew, and everyone reached down and grabbed a handful of earth, tossing it into the grave. Kira, whose hand was in mine, nodded to me, urging me to do the same, so I did.

It was somber, final, and the sadness of death seeped into me. I chided myself — it was a cat funeral, and not even for a cat I knew particularly well. But I couldn’t shake the heaviness of it as we headed back inside single file. He was an old cat, a part of their family. And he only liked three people in the world, it would seem — Annika, Kira, and me.

Everyone gathered in the kitchen, moving toward the food, but I edged for the door, bending down to get level with Kira.

“Thank you for inviting me, Kira.”

“I didn’t, Anni did.”

I kept my eyes on her when they wanted to look for Annika. “Yeah, but she just invited me because of you.”

She shook her head. “Nu-uh. She wanted you to come too. Kaz would have been sad if you didn’t come, Hairy.”

I chuckled. “Maybe so. I’m glad to see you, but I’ve got to get going.”

She pouted. “You haven’t even had Babushky’s pirogis yet. They’re my favorite.”

“I bet they’re delicious, but I really do have to go. I’m sorry about Kaz.”

She nodded down at her shoes. “He was super old. Babushky says he’s in heaven now.” She didn’t sound like she believed it.

“Is that what you think?”

She rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I dunno. It makes me happier to think he is.”

“Then you should think about him there with a big bowl of cream and a can of tuna fish.”

She smiled at that and grabbed me around the neck, surprising me. “Thanks, Hairy.”

I hugged her to me and smiled. “Anytime, Bunny.”

When she let me go, Annika was there, and I stood as ice ran through my veins. Kira hugged Annika’s leg with her bunny hanging in her arms, and Annika rested a hand on the back of the little girl’s head. We watched each other for a heartbeat.

“Thank you for coming, Joel. I know this wasn’t—”

“I didn’t come for you,” I said, the words harsh, harsher than I’d intended. I swallowed and turned for the door, leaving her there with splotchy cheeks and brimming eyes. I couldn’t. I couldn’t talk to her. I couldn’t deal with her. Not then. Maybe not ever.

I’d almost reached the door when Max materialized on the stairwell in the entry.
 

“Ah,” he said, smiling jovially, “the bear has come to bid the cat farewell?”

I kept my back to the rest of the house, anxious to be done with the whole affair. “Only because the bunny asked me to.”

He nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets as he descended the last few steps. “I see. Do you remember
zvezda moya
?”

“I remember,” I answered quietly.

“It hurts, I know, but to hold the star in your hand is worth the pain.” His eyes were so much like hers, crystalline, somehow cold and warm all at once, bottomless, and they looked into mine, telling me things I didn’t want to hear.

“Not if it burns me to the ground, Max.”

His smile fell, making him look older, and he nodded, clasping my shoulder and squeezing once. And we turned away from each other like conspirators after their last deal was settled and done.

Annika

Papa’s eyes were heavy with sadness as he walked toward me and Joel walked away, never once looking back. I stood there with Kira clinging to me, feeling like I’d lost the whole world, like I’d never be happy again. And when Papa reached me, I leaned into him with a burning throat, comforted by his big, strong arms as he whispered consolations in Russian. But I kept it together, transferring Kira to her mother before making a plate under my mother’s watchful eye.
 

So much of Russian happiness is tied up in food and the care of others, and they’re not afraid to tell you exactly what to do if they’re worried about your well-being. Like eat.

I picked at my food, opting mostly for pirogi. Because if ever there was a food that would solve problems, it would be chocolate-stuffed dumplings.
 

Our family friends left after a little while, and then it was just the Belousov clan, including Andrei. Once Mama, Roxy, and I had moved the food from the table and into the kitchen, we all sat down, with the exception of Kira, who had fallen asleep on the couch.

I scanned their faces, landing on Andrei. He sat next to Papa, the thinner, harder, less hairy version of his older brother. They had the same icy cold eyes, the same color hair, all salt and pepper, but that was where the similarities ended. His smile was thin and frosty where Papa’s was big and warm, Andrei’s jaw clean and sharp where Papa’s was hidden under his heavy beard.
 

“I want Mama and Papa to retire,” I said in Russian, without the energy to beat around the bush. “They can’t sell the business because you’ve been laundering money through the store. So, I have a proposition.”

His smile pulled up on one side. “Of course you do, Annika. You have my ingenuity. What do you propose?”

I sat straight enough it almost hurt, but he didn’t intimidate — I was angry and determined, but not intimidated. It was hard to be intimidated by a man who had given me piggyback rides and bought me ice cream.
 

“Pay Mama and Papa to manage the shop and hire some of your goons to run the day to day. They can’t sell, and they can’t quit the shop, so this way everyone wins. They can stay home, you can keep your front, and no one is the wiser.”

He shrugged lightly, still smirking. “This is fine. Better, even — we can do more without putting Maxim and Dina in harm’s way. I agree to your terms,” he said with a single nod in my direction.

I blinked, surprised it had been so easy. At least until I thought about it. He cared less about what my parents did and more about their happiness, which I knew. But for some reason I’d expected a fight. I relaxed, smiling back. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Anything else?” Still with the smirk.

“No, uncle.”

“Then it is my turn to thank you. You did all of this for Kira, and you helped your papa — you want the best for all of us. And Max, Dina, you have run that shop, never asking questions of me. For that, I am grateful.”

Papa nodded solemnly. “I would do anything you asked, brother.”

“And that is why I will happily agree to let you stay home without strings, without anything but my gratitude.”

Mama poured us all drinks, and we raised our glasses.

“Brotherhood is the best wealth,” Andrei said, and we poured the vodka down our throats in unison.

Exhaustion slipped over me as soon as I set my glass down, all my responsibilities now checked off, and I sagged a little. Roxy bumped me with her elbow.
 

“You ready? We should get Bunny home.”

I nodded. Mama loaded us up with leftovers, and we said our goodbyes before loading into the cab I called for the short ride back to our place. Kira didn’t wake at all that I saw, not as Roxy carried her inside or hauled her upstairs to put her in bed. I kicked off my shoes and walked into the living room, sinking into the couch with a sigh. Tears pricked my eyes when Kaz didn’t appear to jump in my lap, and everything felt lost, changed, foreign.

Roxy joined me a few minutes later, sitting silently next to me.

My eyes were on my feet propped on the coffee table. “That was a lot.”

She nodded, propping her feet next to mine. “It was.” She paused. “He came.”

I rested my head against the cushion behind me. “He did.”

“How do you feel?”

“Gutted.”

She didn’t speak for a second. “But he came.”

“Not for me. He made sure I knew.”

“Yeah.” More silence. “I’m sorry.”

My eyes were locked on a chip in my big toe’s polish. “It’s okay. Or it will be. I hope. Eventually.”

“You’re working tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“Is there any way to make it right with him?”

A lump climbed up my throat, and I swallowed, forcing it down. “I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “I don’t think so.”

“But you miss him.”

I bit my lip and nodded again.

Another sigh. “There’s got to be a way to fix this.”

“He’s done. I betrayed him, and that’s the unforgivable transgression in his world. I don’t even know how I still have a job, honestly. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going in tomorrow just for the firing squad. I can’t do my job. Joel is done with me. The whole shop is. I thought I was so smart, thought I had a big plan to protect us both.” I laughed, the sound dry and tired. “I should have listened to Laney from the start.”

“But … I don’t know, Annika. I’ve never seen you like that with a guy. You were with him like you are with us, with your family. You were
you
, not work
you
, but the real
you.
I know he did that.”