The Language of Sisters (41 page)

“When, Mama, are we leaving?” I asked.

“
Shhh
. I will tell you when. Do not say a word to anyone, Antonia. Do not forget.” She tapped my lips. “We could die if someone knows who should not know.”

Three nights later, I woke up to hear my mother begging my father not to leave the apartment. Crying, holding on to him, clutching at his coat, his hand on the doorknob.

My father was standing again, much stronger. He was eating. He had a look in his eye that scared me, but it was never directed at us. The cuts and new scars on his cheeks glowed, it seemed, in the darkness. I was scared of the scars, scared of how he got them, but not scared of my father.

“Go back to your room, Antonia,” my mother snapped when she saw me. I started to cry, but instead of reacting with a hug, as always, she said, “Now, Antonia.
Do as you are told.
”

I pretended to shut the door, but I listened, Elvira and Valeria beside me, holding hands.

“Do not do this, Alexei. Please. For the family, for the girls, for us.”

“Svetlana, I must. I cannot let go of what has happened. It is for my father, for our honor.”

“Honor? What is honor if you are dead? We cannot, we will not, leave without you. We are ready, you know this. They will come for me soon, I'm sure of it.”

“I will do this first. If I do not return by tomorrow night, you are to go without me.”

“No. I refuse. I will not leave without you.”

For the first time in my life, I saw my father get angry with my mother. He grabbed both of her arms and yanked her in close. It was at that moment that I realized that my loving father had another side. He was a Russian man born in a hard time, brought up with hard knocks, with a father who had suffered the same. “You will do as I say, Svetlana.” I had never heard that tone. “You will leave with the children and begin a new life as we have planned.”

“ No. ”

My father cupped my mother's face with his hand, yanking her closer, his face flushed. “I will not listen to this, Svetlana. I am your husband. Do not disobey me.”

My mother burst into tears, and my father's searing, surprising anger faded.

“Be strong, Svetlana. Be brave. I love you.”

“You stupid, stupid man.”

“I need your love, Svetlana.”

“No.”

“Please. I need to hear it, Svetlana.”

“Stupid man.”

“No, not that.” He smiled.

“I am so mad at you, stupid man.”

“Not that, either.”

“I love you, Alexei.”

“Yes, that. It is what I needed to hear. I will see you soon. Tomorrow night.”

He kissed her. A long, passionate kiss. I closed the door before it ended.

* * *

When I woke up, the sun barely peeking over our frozen horizon, the streets of Moscow slushy and gray, I saw my mother in a chair by the window, sewing. She was leaning forward toward the front windows, bent over, stiff, her fingers shaking over the fabric.

“Good morning, Mama,” I said.

“Good morning, Antonia.”

I sat by her feet. She absentmindedly patted my shoulder with a trembling hand, a bird in flight, a frightened dove.

“Will he be home soon?”

“Pray, Antonia. You pray. Hard as you can.” She turned back to the window. “Lord God, Jesus, Mary, mother of God, please protect my Alexei. Antonia, are you praying for your papa?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Do not stop.”

“I won't.”

“Valeria? Elvira? Are you praying for your papa?”

Valeria and Elvira sat beside me.

“Yes, Mama,” Valeria said. “To Jesus and God and Mary, mother of God, who didn't get enough credit for her sacrifices, right, Mama?”

“I'm praying to Jesus,” Elvira said. “He's nice.”

My sisters and I went to school. The Bessonovs gave us food to take home when we went to their house to play after school. Mr. Bessonov said to me, “All will be well, Antonia.”

I hoped so.

We waited.

* * *

My father limped home late that night, the moon covered by rolling gray clouds. His face was bloodied again, bruised, swollen. There was blood covering his blue shirt underneath his jacket and on his hands. My mother cried out when she saw him. She hugged him close, not minding the blood, then quickly pulled away, a cry escaping her lips.

My father was holding something.

“Alexei, what?”

“Ours.”

“ No. ”

“Ours.”

“But where—” My mother's eyes widened. “Oh no, Alexei.”

“Yes. This is the way it will be.”

My father held something in his arms. More blood.

My parents lied about where it came from.

* * *

I heard a bloodcurdling scream about eight o'clock on Tuesday night. I shot out the door and stood on the dock. Another scream, cut short. It was Lindy. I sprinted down the dock, then noticed that Daisy was running beside me. “Call the police, Daisy!” I yelled, and sped up.

I burst through Lindy's door. A hulk of a gargoyle man was leaning over her, where she lay on the couch like a crumpled doll in a pink negligee. “Get away from her.”

He spun around, and all I saw was evil. Evil in his bulging, packed body, the weird shape of his rectangular face, his mouth a slash. “Get out. This ain't your business, bitch.”

“It is my business.” Lindy's face was swollen and bleeding. She was trying to roll off the couch.

“I'm warning you, tight ass, leave unless you want this to become a threesome.” He charged toward me as Lindy opened a drawer next to the couch. I knew she had a gun in there.

“And I'm warning you!” Daisy flew past me and pointed a. 45 at that gargoyle man, a foot from his chest. She was wearing a pink-flowered daisy robe. “Get out. Now.” She cocked the gun, both hands on it, steady as could be.

He put his hands up as Lindy collapsed back on the sofa. I thought she might be dying. Daisy kept the gun pointed right at his chest.

“Hey, take it easy.”

“Shut up, pig face.”

Daisy stood her ground as he backed away, toward the door.

I stared at his crotch. He was peeing on himself, his face pale with fright.

“He's peeing himself,” I said, almost amused.

“Get out!” Daisy yelled. “Lindy's home is clean and immaculate and clean. She doesn't want your urine in here!”

He backed out, his chest heaving in fear, and Daisy followed him. She pulled something out of her robe. I saw the glint of the blade. She thrust her arm back, and I knew she was going to throw the knife. So did he.

That hulking man turned and ran ... right into the river. Daisy waited until his head appeared, his arms flapping about, obviously not a swimmer, then yelled, “I'm going to shoot your dick off.” His face collapsed into horror. How would he know that Daisy's sons had removed all the bullets?

The gargoyle started dog-paddling the wrong way down the dock, toward the river. Daisy followed him, then threw the knife. It landed a foot from his face, and he sputtered and struggled. “Lady, stop it, please, she's just a hooker—”

“She's not just a hooker! She's my friend, Lindy! I'm going to shoot your butt off ... I'm going to shoot your nose off ... I'm going to shoot your flipper off ...” He kept dog-paddling and gasping to the end of the dock and into the river. When he was beyond the dock, Daisy took out another knife and threw it. Landed a foot in front of him again. He screamed. Excellent aim, as I knew she wasn't trying to kill him.

When he was gone, the police sirens piercing the air, we hurried back to Lindy's.

“Don't you worry,” Daisy told Lindy. “I'll tell my sons about this tinsel-toothed warthog and he won't bother you again. What was his name?”

Lindy told Daisy.

“He'll be in the river being eaten by my whale friend soon.” She called Skippy. It was a short call. “All done. Skippy is angry.”

I got an ice pack for Lindy's face and a dish towel for the blood and cradled her in my arms. I was trembling, and so was she. “I wish you'd quit.”

“I think I might.” She held my hand, her hand shaking hard. “Thank you, Toni. Thank you, Daisy.”

“No problem. I'm glad I had my gun”—Daisy spread her robe open—“and my knife robe.”

There were four different knife pockets. Each pocket was made of fabric with daisies on it.

“A knife robe comes in handy. I'll make you two girls one to protect yourselves.”

“Thank you,” we said.

Lindy nodded and then semi-passed out. I hugged her and her bleeding head close to me as the paramedics rushed in the door.

* * *

The police went out in their boats and found the man who beat Lindy climbing up a bank. They arrested him. He had a long record of assaults against women. It was also strike three for him. He was going to the slammer, so Daisy's boys wouldn't have to kill him after all. The police interviewed Daisy and me after the paramedics took Lindy to the hospital.

“You pointed a gun at him?” an officer asked Daisy.

“Yes. I had to. He was trying to eat my friend, Lindy.”

“And you threw a knife at him?”

“Yes. Two.”

“Two?”

“She has excellent aim,” I said. “She missed on purpose.”

And later, “Do you know what Lindy does for a living?”

“Yes,” Daisy said.

“What?” the officer asked.

“What does that matter?” Daisy hit him on the knee. “A man shouldn't be able to beat up a woman no matter what she does.”

“No, no, absolutely not,” the policeman said, backing way off. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“But I know what Lindy does for a living.”

“What?” the policeman asked.

“She reads books,” Daisy whispered. “She loves the smell of them.”

* * *

I told the police officers that I didn't know what Lindy did for a living when they asked, but I also said it was irrelevant. I knew they didn't believe me, but one of the officers was Sammy Cho. He was a regular with his family at Svetlana's. I knew him from high school. On the way out he said, “Last week I had the rolled crepes with ahi. There was cabbage salad on the side. I didn't even think I liked cabbage until I had it. Your mama called it “Alexei Happy Husband.” Do you know if it's on the specials for this week, too?”

I told him I'd let him know later.

I called my mother. “Tell Sammy I make it for him special. Tell him I say, bring your mother.”

I told Sammy. He could not hide his delight. “Tell her I'm coming tonight. Bringing my parents with me. Thanks, Toni.”

* * *

Lindy spent a night in the hospital with a concussion.

I stayed with her for hours and read her the first chapters of
Sh
gun
by James Clavell, at her request. Jayla and Beth visited during their breaks. Charles and Vanessa brought her home. We took turns making her dinner.

She cancelled all her clients. Daisy went over every night and sang lullabies until Lindy went to sleep.

Or pretended she was asleep.

Daisy's sons, Georgie and Skippy, aka Slash and Slugger, sent Lindy an enormous bouquet of flowers and paid for an in-home nurse for a week. Lindy loved her. When she was better, the nurse and she reorganized her book collection. It took hours.

* * *

Daisy made Lindy and me soft, comfy knife robes. Mine was red with yellow daisy pockets inside. Lindy's was pink with white daisy pockets inside. Daisy made Lindy's first. “The hooker needs more protection than you do, widow. You're honky-tonking with Nick, the man with a pistol in his pants, I wish he would honky-tonk me, and he can protect a woman from Godzilla, but Lindy needs the knife robe now.”

I didn't want to tell Daisy that I was no longer sleeping with the honky-tonk man. I was afraid it would upset her.

* * *

Nick and I left for work at the same time on a Thursday morning. There was a wind meandering in off the river, like an invisible ribbon, swaying, curling. Mr. and Mrs. Quackenbusch had settled in on my deck, and even Maxie, the golden eagle, had made a flighty appearance. It should have been a happy morning for me.

“Toni.” Nick didn't smile. His hair was shorter, he had a goatee. He was positively eatable.

“Hi, Nick.” Whew. We were back to his being intimidating.

I hadn't planned on seeing Nick, and I was dressed in my current sloppy style—jeans and a T-shirt and tennis shoes. Yes, this was what I was wearing to work. My coworkers hadn't said a thing, but I'd seen the quick glances. Certainly wasn't my usual style, but I had no energy for my usual style.