62. Misiu
Misiu
Kiri
I’ve checked the time fourteen times. We don’t have to leave for another hour.
Natalia sits cross-legged on the edge of my bed in a robe, leaning toward the mirror propped against the wall as she drags mascara through her lashes.
She’s been talking for the last five minutes about whether flowers are too formal for someone’s mother when you’re meeting her for the first time, and I’ve heard maybe half of it.
I pace from the bedroom to the kitchen, then back again. Straighten the collar of my shirt.
Check the time.
Adjust the cuffs.
Check the time again.
Natalia catches my reflection in the mirror. I look down. She smiles and returns to her mascara.
“Cute.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. I’ve never seen you this nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You ironed your shirt.”
I look at myself in the mirror again, smoothing both hands down the front even though there isn’t a wrinkle left on it. She caps the mascara and turns her head to inspect one eye.
“Watching you iron in your boxers was unexpectedly hot, by the way.”
“I noticed. Hard not to when you bit my ass walking past.”
She smiles slowly, completely satisfied with herself. I snort and tug at the hem of the shirt again.
The iron is still sitting on the counter in the kitchen.
I haven’t used one in years. Most of my clothes don’t need it, and if they do, someone else handles it before a show.
But this morning, I dug it out of the back of a cabinet, filled it with water and stood over the ironing board in my boxers until every seam was flat enough to pass inspection.
Natalia had leaned against the doorway with coffee in her hand, watching me like I was performing some kind of striptease for domestic appliances.
She thinks its for Ma.
Part of it is.
I want Ma to see I made an effort. I want her to feel like today matters. Like she matters.
The rest belongs to him.
The military precision he forced into us before we were old enough to understand why a crooked bedspread could make a grown man furious.
Beds tight enough to bounce a coin. Shoes lined beneath them.
Food eaten quickly and without noise. Shirts pressed.
Rooms spotless. No excuses. Anything out of place gave him something to find. Something to criticize.
Something to scream about with his face inches from yours until spit hit your skin and you stopped knowing whether he was going to slap you or make you stand there and take it.
I know better than to give him ammunition.
Not today.
I don’t want to poke the bear. Don’t want to hand him one stupid reason to ruin Ma’s birthday before we’ve even sat down. There’ll already be enough reasons. Natalia sets the mascara aside and reaches for something else in the little pile spread across my dresser.
“It’s sweet.”
“What is?”
“How much effort you’re making for your mom.”
I nod once.
“Yeah.”
She watches me, waiting for more. I don’t give it to her.
She turns back toward the mirror and starts blending something along her cheekbone.
I try to focus on that. The small movements of her wrist. The crease between her brows when she concentrates.
The way she opens her mouth slightly while doing her makeup like she needs every part of her face involved.
Watching her helps. She makes the room feel normal. Like this is just a morning. Natalia catches me staring. I shake my head, but the tightness in my chest eases a little. She turns back to the mirror, then pauses.
“You really are nervous.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“No.” She puts down the brush. “You’re doing the jaw thing. The one where it looks like you’re trying to bite through your own teeth.”
I force my jaw loose.
“Better?”
She laughs, and I look away before she can see how much I needed the sound.
“I’ve just never…” I start.
The words stop on their own. In the mirror, her eyes lift to mine.
“You’ve never what?”
I rub the back of my neck. I stare at her, then at the floor.
“I’ve never brought anyone to meet them.”
Natalia’s expression changes as she understands.
“Anyone?”
I shake my head. Her face softens so fast it almost hurts to look at. She crosses the room and slides both arms around my neck.
“You’ve never introduced someone to your parents?”
“No.”
She studies my face like this is something fragile I’ve handed her. I let myself look back. Her hair is only half done. One eyelash darker than the other. Robe slipping slightly off one shoulder.
Beautiful.
She rises onto her toes and kisses me. Her mouth moves over mine with quiet tenderness, giving more than it asks for. When she draws back, her lips stay against mine.
“I’d say the same thing,” she whispers, “but my parents are basically the neighborhood’s parents.”
I breathe out through my nose.
“Everyone comes over. They own a local shop. Anyone I dated in high school already knew them before they knew they were dating me.”
“That sounds like hell honestly.”
“It was very efficient.”
I smile despite myself. Her fingers play with the hair at the back of my neck.
“But,” she says, quieter now, “if we’re talking official…”
I wait.
“You’ll be the first too.”
Something in my chest gives hard enough to make me grab her. My hands close around her waist, slide over the curve of her back, down to her ass, then up her spine before I crush her against me. She makes a startled little sound and laughs into my shoulder.
“Okay, okay, Misiu.” Her arms tighten around my neck. “You giant teddy bear. Your eyes went all glowy at that.”
“They didn't.”
“They definitely did.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Very glowy.”
“You’re making shit up.”
She draws back just enough to look at me, smiling like she’s caught me doing something embarrassingly tender.
Then she kisses me again. I hold her tighter, one hand spread between her shoulder blades, the other firm at her waist. Here, with my arms around her, I forget about the time.
Forget about the shirt. Forget about the house waiting for us and the man inside it who can still turn my stomach from across a room.
There’s only Natalia’s mouth against mine, her fingers in my hair, and the fact that she knows what waits for me in that house and still wants to stand beside me.