Demyan
Mrs Kleine, who insists I call her Patricia, has made chicken.
The smell hits as soon as Tamsin opens the door.
It’s that warm smell of home cooked food that stirs up memories of when I was a kid and my mother would cook for the family.
Me, my sister, and our father. We’d sit around the dining room table and eat like lords.
Patricia has made potatoes and steamed vegetables and some sort of gravy she calls a “roux.”
“It’s wonderful to have a guest for dinner,” she says, handing me a bowl of stuffing. “It’s been a while. I had Daisy staying not long back, but I didn’t get the opportunity to properly cook for her.”
Tamsin watches her mom with something akin to suspicion as I load my plate with dinner.
“Thank you for having me at such short notice. This is a lot of food.”
“Well, I usually cook in large batches and then plate up dinners to freeze for the days I don’t feel like cooking. Now Tamsin is home, it will be nice to cook more often.”
The food is delicious. I hadn’t realized how much I missed good, home-cooked food. I should probably make more of an effort to learn how to cook, but after a day of doing whatever my cousins need me to do, I normally don’t have enough of an appetite for anything more than take out.
Patricia watches while Tamsin and I eat in silence for a moment then says, “So, Demyan, tell us a little about yourself.”
My fork stops halfway to my mouth, then I drop it back to my plate.
“I work with my cousins, as you know, Federov Freight…” I start, suddenly feeling like I’m being interviewed for the first time in my life.
“No,” Patricia states when I trail off. “Tell us about who you really are.”
Our eyes stayed locked together for a few seconds longer than would be considered normal. But then there’s nothing normal about me and nothing normal about this…first date?
“I’m thirty-four years old and I’m a fixer for my family.” I glance across to Tamsin to gauge her reaction.
There’s a line pinched between her brows, but she isn’t looking at me, she is focused on scooping vegetables onto her fork.
“That means, whenever my family has a problem, I step in to fix it.”
Patricia nods, her face solemn but in a way that makes me feel like she is pleased with my answer.
“What kind of problems?” Tamsin says, still oblivious to the implication. Patricia’s mouth curls up on one side. She is enjoying this. She knows it’s torture for me.
“Messy ones,” I say, facing Tamsin but double checking with Patricia how far I should take this. She gives a light shrug and I feel more out of my depth with these two women than I ever have in my life doing murderous shit for my family.
Tamsin finally looks up from her plate and meets my eyes.
“Federov…” she finally says. “Where’s that name from?”
“Russia.” I reply. “My grandfather brought the name over here with him. Had five sons. Each of those had a son…”
“And you fix messy problems…” she adds, dropping her fork on the side of her plate.
I don’t say anything, just look at her and wait for it to click into place. When it does, she spins to her mother. “And you’re okay with this?” she shrieks, pushing back from the table and sending her chair falling.
“They are good people, Tamsin. I wouldn’t let him in my house if he weren’t. You know that.”
“Good people don’t kill people.” Tamsin’s hazel eyes flare as she says it.
Patricia opens her mouth to say something but I hold up my hand to stop her.
“Dinner was delicious, Patricia. Thank you for having me. Tamsin,” I add, turning to her as I stand. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
I leave through the front door, both women remaining silent until the door closes behind me.
I’m an idiot. I should have known better than to try and pursue a relationship with anyone. Just because it seems to have worked out for my cousins…what are the chances of me finding the same in the same city.
Perhaps it’s time I looked at moving away. Maybe Eduard and Jasper could figure out a way to expand the business into other territories. Or I could find an honest job in security or something.
One thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to be anywhere near here while Tamsin is here.
I reach the small parking lot and get into my car, driving straight to Eduard’s place.
It’s not long after seven when I pull up outside their house.
It’s a large five-bed just on the outskirts of town, with a gate that speaks more to his paranoia than their aesthetic choices.
I’d never in a million years imagined Eduard doing the whole family home thing, but I’m happy he has found a reason to.
It’s Eduard’s sister who opens the door, Valeria. She has been the epitome of mischief since we were all kids, and I can tell she has been up to no good by the grin on her face.
“Dem,” she says, swinging the door wide as Eduard appears with Lilah on his hip. “Just in time for story-time.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Yes,” Eduard agrees, “Tonight it’s Monster Soup.” He hands me a square book and his daughter, and points to the stairs.
Lilah giggles as she takes my chin in her chubby fingers, then rests her head on my shoulder.
She smells like warmth and honey and baby powder and it makes me realize why people obsess over the smell of babies.
It takes two full read throughs of Monster Soup before her little eyes get heavy and she falls asleep with her thumb in her mouth. Her belly rising and falling with each breath. Sammie pokes her head in to check on her and we head downstairs together.
“She will be walking soon,” Valeria says as we walk into the living room.
Eduard hands me a glass of clear liquid and I down it in one gulp.
“Trust me,” she adds, “That girl is going places.”
Sammie smiles and Eduard nods in all seriousness.
“They’re both down, thanks to Uncle Demyan,” Sammie says to Eduard, dropping a short kiss on his mouth as Valeria crinkles her nose.
“It’s a privilege,” I say, and I mean it.
“Well,” Eduard says, sliding his arm around Sammie as she sits beside him. “What’s brought you here with a face like thunder? Sammie said you were having dinner at the Kleine’s.”
Valeria sits up straighter at this news. “I didn’t know you had your eye on someone, Dem.”
I heave a sigh. “I was having dinner. Until Tamsin put enough of what I was saying together to realize what I am. Then she all but kicked me out.”
Sammie frowns. “I’m sorry Demyan. I thought since Patty approved; Tamsin would…”
I shrug. “Not the case it seems. Tamsin just about lost her mind. Patricia tried to help but…” I trail off. What am I supposed to say? Tamsin is welcome to her beliefs. “Anyway,” I finally continue, “I was wondering if you could assign me elsewhere for a while?”
Eduard looks surprised for a second, but gathers himself together quickly enough.
“Valeria, you said you wanted that recipe from me,” Sammie says, clearly reading the room and feeling this is a business conversation that they don’t need to be a part of.
“But I want to…” she doesn’t get to finish as she is yanked from the armchair by Sammie who pulls her through to the kitchen.
“Demyan,” Eduard starts once the women have left the room. “Why?”
I’m quiet for a moment, trying to puzzle out the honest answer to his question. “She is the first time I’ve ever felt like I could dare to want more. And when it became clear that’s just not meant to be for me…I don’t know…I just…”
I hesitate for a moment, knowing I can be honest with Eduard and actually being honest suddenly feel like two very different beasts.
“I see what you and the others have and I don’t like that I can’t have it too.”
Eduard doesn’t say anything, just looks at me for a long time.
“If you want to move on, you can. I mean, we would miss you considerably. But I understand where you’re coming from and accept that the dynamics within the family and business have changed. I should have paid more attention to that, and I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You didn’t,” I argue. “It’s not about that. I’ve always known my place in this family. I’ve honored it and been grateful. But ultimately, since seeing the four of you settle down, I’ve come to want more from my life than cleaning up the mess.”
Eduard nods. “Give me a week,” he finally says. “That way I can figure out something that works for all of us.”
“Thanks,” I say, placing my glass down on the table beside the chair I’m sitting in. “I appreciate it.”