10. Alek #2
“Mia?” I call for her, checking behind the door to see if she’s hiding.
“Alek?” Her timid voice comes from inside the shower stall.
I swing the door open to see her curled in the corner, the blankets pulled tight around her shoulders. She’s been crying. Her cheeks are wet, and her eyes are puffy.
“Lyubimaya. It’s okay. We are safe. It isn’t Ivan.” I scoop her into my arms and carry her out of the bathroom.
“It isn’t? Who is it?”
“You remember Nikolai? It’s him. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll make us some breakfast?” I kiss her temple.
She beams, a big bright smile that contradicts her teary face. “I’ll be down in a few.”
While she gets dressed, I brush my teeth, and head down to see Nikolai hitting the side of my coffeepot.
“You’re going to break it! Stop.”
“It won’t turn on. You have a horrible coffeepot.”
I lift the cord. “It would help if it were plugged in.”
“Who doesn’t have their appliances plugged in?” He rolls his eyes.
I plug it into the outlet and the coffeepot hums to life. “I’m going to go get the groceries. I’ll make breakfast. Make yourself at home.”
“I’ve been here plenty of times. It might as well as be my home.”
A creak from upstairs has me look up to see Mia peering over the railing. Her hair is brushed, the sleepy tangles gone and replaced with smooth strands. She’s wearing my shirt, and it falls to her knees, swallowing her body. I love how it looks.
It’s as if I engulf her with my size. I hope it makes her feel safe and secure.
“She’s wearing your clothes,” Nikolai informs me in Russian.
“I can see that. Her clothes are in the car.”
“Why not get them?”
“Enough with the interrogation, Nikolai. Da? Enough,” I raise my voice enough for him to understand that I’m getting impatient with him.
He gives me a curt nod and opens the cabinet, snagging three coffee mugs to set on the counter.
“Lyubimaya,” I greet Mia, kissing her forehead.
A mug drops and shatters on the kitchen floor. Nikolai has wide stunned eyes.
It’s because of the nickname. It means beloved.
“Sorry. Small glass. Big hands. It slipped.” He bends down to pick up the pieces and Maya takes a step forward to help when I stop her.
“You have no shoes. I don’t want you to get cut.”
“Listen to Mr. Bykov. We only have one first aid kit here. If things were to get bad, the nearest hospital is close to an hour away.” Nikolai stands, tossing the pieces of what used to be a mug in the trash.
The coffeepot beeps and Nikolai grins, clapping his hands together. “Coffee anyone? It’s been a very long forty-eight hours, Da?”
“Da,” Mia and I say in unison.
I don’t expect her to say that which causes me to chuckle, but Nikolai tosses his head back, hand on his stomach, his obnoxious snort laugh making Mia giggle.
“I like that.” Nikolai wiggles his finger at Mia. “You’re funny.” He eyes Mia and I know that gaze, he’s examining her, finding all the places where there’s visible bruising.
His happiness sours and he focuses on pouring the coffee. “Creamer is in the car.”
“I’ll go get it,” Mia states. “I don’t mind.”
“No. Nikolai and I will go. You rest. It won’t take long.”
“No one knows we are here, right? I should be safe to go outside, especially with you,” she points out. “Please? I don’t want to feel like a prisoner. I know the seriousness of the situation.”
“Fine,” I relent, and Nikolai hides his smile with his mug while he takes a sip of black coffee.
I also like mine black, but Mia doesn’t. She likes more creamer in hers. Actually, I wouldn’t even consider it coffee. It’s creamer with a side of coffee.
Three of us walk outside and Nikolai sets his cup on the railing, following us to his truck. It’s not his usual car either. He must have switched just to come here.
He’s the best. He doesn’t know the entire situation and still he took every precaution. He is a good friend.
“What is this piece of shit car?” Nikolai kicks the tires of the rusted Beetle, and the rim pops off.
“That’s the escape vehicle,” Mia explains. “It’s mine.”
Nikolai swings open the back doors of his truck. “It is ugly. You need a new one.” He hands her a brown bag stuffed to the top with food, then hands me one, and he takes the last.
“I didn’t get it for looks.” Mia turns on her heels and speed walks to the house, the distance thunder matching her mood.
I scuff Nikolai on the back of his head. “What the fuck was that about?” I sneer in our native language.
“What? I don’t know the entire story. It isn’t as if I have been filled in,” he explains. “I will apologize.”
“Da. Do that. I won’t have her in a bad mood because of you.”
“You like her,” he points out, making sure to not say that in English. “You called her your ‘Beloved.’”
“She has been my Beloved. For a few years now.”
“An affair?” He doesn’t sound surprised, just curious.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’ll explain everything when we are inside. I don’t want Mia to think I’m talking about her behind her back.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about Ivan. It would feel like a betrayal to Mia if I did.
I’m curious how my retched son is doing. I hope he is doing horrible and comes crawling back on his hands and knees. I want to hear him beg for her back only for her to be married to me and pregnant with my child.
With that thought fueling me, Nikolai and I head inside, setting the bags on the counter. Mia has already unloaded one bag, placing eggs and deli meat in the fridge.
There are plenty of nonperishables in the pantry and frozen food to last for years, but no fresh food.