29
The following week, both at school and at home, Basile seems the same as always. And yet, I start looking at him differently. With more interest, more empathy. He’s no longer just my annoying, killjoy older brother, but another collateral victim of the rigid, elitist family we live in.
Vadim, who couldn’t care less about rules or other people’s expectations, skips class today without giving me any explanation.
Since this morning, he has only been replying to my texts with short, clipped responses.
And as if that weren’t enough, it’s the last day before Christmas break.
For two weeks, I won’t even have college as an excuse to see him.
His short film has come to a standstill, and mine is progressing very slowly, like many other students’ projects. Mr. Abrams was forced to extend our first-semester project until the end of the school year. The film presentations won’t take place until May.
At the end of the day, I finally hear from Vadim.
[Some rich kid reported me to the dean
for the homework thing. I had to
give her money back and got a warning.
Apparently, my last one.
And I had to join a community service group
to make up for it. Basically,
they’re making me do grunt work for the college
with other students on their final warning.
I spent the whole day doing it.]
[And now, I have Keith on my back, so I
can’t even call you.]
[I miss you. Don’t be mad at me.]
[You just broke the record
for the longest text in
the history of Vadim Arcadi.]
[:)]
[Stop smiling! I told you something like this would happen.]
[:)]
[I’ll get through it. I always do!]
[Are you planning to see me again,
or are you being held hostage in your
camp for juvenile delinquents?]
[Tomorrow!:) I have a Christmas
present for you.:) Gotta go!:) I love you!;)]
My cheeks ache from smiling so much.
***
The weekend before Christmas is always the worst of the year.
My mother is beside herself because nothing is ready the way she wants it to be, and my father complains because Georgia went to spend the holidays with her own family and isn’t here to help anymore.
Despite that, he doesn’t exactly volunteer himself.
Lily is sad that our maternal grandmother can’t come and spend Christmas with us as promised, and my parents are keeping it from my sister that she is sick and far too weak for the trip.
My English grandparents are coming, though; they should be arriving any minute.
Having Albert and Margaret descend on our house once a year is enough to put everyone on edge.
As usual, they are going to bombard us with their opinions on every possible subject, especially on what’s better in England—which basically means just about everything.
Like he does every year, Edward Lancaster will slip almost instantly back into his old, upper-class customs. To please them, Basile will be even more perfect than usual, and Granny and Grandpa will make it extremely clear that the eldest son—the heir, naturally—is their favorite.
At least Clémentine will be there to laugh about it with me during the meal.
I don’t even dare imagine what Vadim would think of such a stuffy, ostentatious Christmas dinner.
Fine china on the table, a six-course feast, endless champagne, a mountain of luxurious gifts under the tree, showy displays of good manners, scathing remarks and hypocritical smiles. All of it would drive him crazy.
I escape from my bustling house, just for an hour, to go meet him.
The park is deserted at this time of year. I wait for him on our bench, my legs swinging back and forth of their own accord, like they did when I was nine. I run my fingertips over the words “You + Me” carved into the wood.
Vadim appears, a little late and looking annoyed. His lips barely brush my cheek before he drops onto the bench beside me.
“Is that it?”
“I’ve got too many things to tell you…”
“Did you get arrested again? Did you steal a car on the way? Did you—”
“No, Alma, I can’t even blink without someone writing up a damn report! This community service group is hell!” He groans, running a hand through his messy hair. “I picked up litter all day on campus. Emptied trash cans, washed stuff, folded stuff, put away stuff… They treat us like slaves!”
“Who is in this group?”
“A bunch of losers! They do everything they’re told without even complaining.”
“That’s what it’s for, Vadim. To redeem yourself and show you know how to behave. Do you want to get expelled from the university?”
He buries his face in his hands and groans in frustration, like a kid who’s been denied the latest must-have toy. “Stop it, Alma, you sound like Mama Keith… I get it! I’ll be an angel. I’ll sort the trash by color if it makes them happy, and I’ll even make some friends!”
“I’d like to see that…”
He turns toward me, looking exhausted. I smile at him and weave my fingers through his curls.
“There’s this one girl who’s pretty cool.”
“Cool? Cool how?”
He lets out a low, husky laugh that sends a flutter through me.
“I don’t know, I talked to her for like five minutes. Her name is Cheyenne.”
“That’s not a name, that’s a Native American tribe.”
Clearly, I’m doing a terrible job pretending I don’t care.
“She is Native American, I think. Anyway, she’s funny, that’s all. And you, Alma Lancaster, are jealous.”
“And you are dreaming, garbage collector.”
Vadim laughs louder this time, then turns toward me, sitting astride the bench. “I have some other big news.”
“What was the first? Your new, funny, cool friend?”
He smiles at me, extremely proud of himself. “Do you want to know or not?”
“Go ahead,” I reply reluctantly.
“I saw Keith this morning. He found Roman.”
“Your brother?”
Vadim nods, but not a single trace of emotion shows on his face. “He’s actually known where he is for a long time. But now he feels like it’s the right time to tell me. That it could help me, motivate me, give me something to hold on to…”
“So what do you think about it? How are you feeling?”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
“I’m hungry. A little cold. And I’d really like to kiss you, but…”
“Vadim.”
He sighs, and I can imagine his inner struggle: whether to show his vulnerability or pretend to feel nothing to avoid getting hurt.
“Roman turned eighteen this year; he has the right to choose whether he wants to meet me,” he blurts out. “Keith contacted him to ask him.”
“Did he say yes?”
“Yes.”
I slip my hand into his, watching him battle some invisible demon.
“But I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Finding your brother is at the very top of your bucket list, right? You’re not allowed to back out! And I’m here if you need to be reminded of how easy it is to love you, Vadim Arcadi.”
“We said we’d do all that before we die, so I have plenty of time.”
“What are you afraid of?” I murmur.
I slide closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Nothing. Everything. It’s going to be… strange. We don’t know each other; he was a baby when we were separated. He probably doesn’t even remember our parents. And besides, he was adopted by a good, little, American family. For all I know, I might hate him.”
“You already hate ninety-nine percent of people, so it’ll be business as usual for you,” I say, hoping to make him smile.
“I also hate the idea of having a family, I think.”
“Well, I think you’re going to love it,” I whisper before kissing him.
Vadim presses his lips against mine, then buries his face in my neck.
“Actually, I think you’re the only one I don’t hate. And Felix. And Keith, sometimes.”
“Oh wait, there’s Cheyenne, too…”
He laughs, and I feel his body rocking against me. He pulls back and kisses me again. I breathe him in. He holds me tight. I hold him. Nothing else exists anymore, no one but us. Just the two of us against the rest of the world: families, brothers, caseworkers, Native Americans…
“I’m going to have to go home soon, Vadim.”
“I’m going to have to kidnap you soon, Alma. And I’ll never give you back.”
“After Christmas, then. There are two generations of Lancasters at my house who would kill me if I missed Christmas Eve.”
“I’d kill for Christmas not to exist. At least then we wouldn’t fill kids’ head with all that bullshit, stuff ourselves with Christmas cookies that nobody even likes, and give each other gifts just because we’re supposed to.”
“Well, I won’t give you yours then.” I shrug, looking disappointed.
“Wait, I can make an exception!”
“Here, this is just a start.”
I hand him four small, bright red packages that he immediately starts tearing open, not even trying to hold back.
His smile widens as he discovers the plastic motorcycle, mini surfboard, travel guide to Russia, and mini French dictionary I chose for him.
He may be a Scrooge, but I swear his eyes are shining.
“You can teach to me?” he whispers in broken French, with an adorable American accent.
“I can do whatever you want me to.”
I love you, and only you.
“My turn,” he continues in English. “But I think we had the same idea.”
Vadim picks up his backpack from the ground, slides the zipper open, and pulls out a large, gray-and-white stuffed animal, with a shiny, black nose and perfectly round ears.
“They were out of live koalas at the store, so I got him. Until we get to Australia…”
I let out a cry of joy, touched.
“Alma?”
“Vadim?”
“You should go home before I start liking Christmas.”
He hugs me against him again, crushing the stuffed animal between us. A few kisses later, I head back home, my heart heavy from leaving him, but my head full of all those dreams waiting to come true.
And my stomach is in knots.
Because there is still one tiny, little thing I need to check.
Locked in my bathroom, I wait, fidgeting with my fingers as I perch on the edge of the bathtub. The instructions say six minutes. After three minutes, two minutes… faint, pink lines appear on the stick resting between my feet.
The more I stare at them, the darker they get.
I lean forward for a better look.
A tear splatters the spotless tile. And my dreams go up in smoke.