Read Online Real Life & Liars by Kristina Riggle - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristina Riggle
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today. Au revoir, mon frère. ”
Ivan smiles at her Monty Python references but can’t summon the energy to call her back. Anyway, it’s late. Though he knows she’ll be awake on Friday, reading or watching an old movie.
Much as he likes hearing Jenny’s voice, he was hoping for Barbara. Ivan has been somehow thinking by shutting his cell phoneoff he would get messages, like a variation of Murphy’s Law. The call you are waiting for will not come in if your phone is on. But he knows by now you can’t fool Murphy’s Law. Doing something specifically to tempt Murphy means you will get the exact opposite result.
Ivan thinks of writing a song called “Tempting Murphy.”
He hears a low voice through the wall, apparently Darius. Irina and her groom ended up in the guest room just behind Ivan’s room, since Irina still has a twin bed in her old childhood room. No one was expecting an extra guest, so Max had to put sheets on the bed at the last minute, before retreating back to his office in the tower.
Ivan just hoped they wouldn’t start having sex right next to him, or he might fling himself out of the spire. He never expected to be the last one to find a mate. He has eleven years on Irina, and as ill-fated as this quickie marriage might be, at least she has somebody.
And Katya, with those three beautiful children in her fantastic brick house and a husband who provides her with every comfort. She fairly glows with self-satisfaction, and it’s almost too much for Ivan to stomach. He is happy for her, though. Academically, anyway. In theory.
A soft knock at the door tells Ivan his mother is out there. He walks to the door and opens it up. Mira is in a terry bathrobe over a nightgown, and without all her sparkly jewelry she suddenly looks like anyone’s grandmother. Ivan turns away from her sudden age as she follows in.
“You have everything you need?”
“Sure,” he says, answering only in reference to towels and soap and such.
“You want to talk about Barbara?”
“Not much to say. Ivan the Terrible strikes again.”
Mira laughs, a sound like a short burst of jingle bells. “Oh, honey.”
Ivan flops himself down on the bed, facing Mira again. “What is with these women? Don’t they want a guy who’s dedicated, who listens to them and wants to be there for them?”
“Sometimes I think you were born too late, like your soul was meant for the turn of the previous century.”
Mira crosses the room to him and rumples his hair, just like she used to when he was a little boy and only as high as her waist. “The right girl will know how wonderful you are. Just make sure you keep your eyes open.”
“Oh, they’re open, Mom. Wide open.”
Mira hugs him to her chest suddenly, as he sits on the bed, and she stands above him. Her clutch is tight, there’s a fervent quality to it that Ivan doesn’t understand. And just like that, she straightens up, blows a kiss, and walks out.
Ivan hears her in the next room with Irina and Darius. He rests back on his bed again and follows a crack in the plaster ceiling as it wanders across the room like a river on a map. Mira said the right girl would recognize his wonderfulness. Maybe, but Ivan’s tired of waiting for that mythical girl who will appreciate his quirks.
Against his better judgment—Ivan knows he has judgment, he just ignores it routinely—he speed dials Barbara’s number on his phone. As predicted, and to his great relief, voice mail picks up.
“Hi, it’s me. Look, I’m really going to be lonely at this party tomorrow without you. Maybe you’ve already made other plans, in fact you probably have, but anyway…I was really looking forward to seeing you.” The words “I love you” are in Ivan’s throat, but he chokes them back down, instead leaving his mother’s address, knowing Barbara could enter it in MapQuest and get directions in a matter of seconds if she were so inclined.
First order of business, Van tells himself. Stop saying
Ivan smiles at her Monty Python references but can’t summon the energy to call her back. Anyway, it’s late. Though he knows she’ll be awake on Friday, reading or watching an old movie.
Much as he likes hearing Jenny’s voice, he was hoping for Barbara. Ivan has been somehow thinking by shutting his cell phoneoff he would get messages, like a variation of Murphy’s Law. The call you are waiting for will not come in if your phone is on. But he knows by now you can’t fool Murphy’s Law. Doing something specifically to tempt Murphy means you will get the exact opposite result.
Ivan thinks of writing a song called “Tempting Murphy.”
He hears a low voice through the wall, apparently Darius. Irina and her groom ended up in the guest room just behind Ivan’s room, since Irina still has a twin bed in her old childhood room. No one was expecting an extra guest, so Max had to put sheets on the bed at the last minute, before retreating back to his office in the tower.
Ivan just hoped they wouldn’t start having sex right next to him, or he might fling himself out of the spire. He never expected to be the last one to find a mate. He has eleven years on Irina, and as ill-fated as this quickie marriage might be, at least she has somebody.
And Katya, with those three beautiful children in her fantastic brick house and a husband who provides her with every comfort. She fairly glows with self-satisfaction, and it’s almost too much for Ivan to stomach. He is happy for her, though. Academically, anyway. In theory.
A soft knock at the door tells Ivan his mother is out there. He walks to the door and opens it up. Mira is in a terry bathrobe over a nightgown, and without all her sparkly jewelry she suddenly looks like anyone’s grandmother. Ivan turns away from her sudden age as she follows in.
“You have everything you need?”
“Sure,” he says, answering only in reference to towels and soap and such.
“You want to talk about Barbara?”
“Not much to say. Ivan the Terrible strikes again.”
Mira laughs, a sound like a short burst of jingle bells. “Oh, honey.”
Ivan flops himself down on the bed, facing Mira again. “What is with these women? Don’t they want a guy who’s dedicated, who listens to them and wants to be there for them?”
“Sometimes I think you were born too late, like your soul was meant for the turn of the previous century.”
Mira crosses the room to him and rumples his hair, just like she used to when he was a little boy and only as high as her waist. “The right girl will know how wonderful you are. Just make sure you keep your eyes open.”
“Oh, they’re open, Mom. Wide open.”
Mira hugs him to her chest suddenly, as he sits on the bed, and she stands above him. Her clutch is tight, there’s a fervent quality to it that Ivan doesn’t understand. And just like that, she straightens up, blows a kiss, and walks out.
Ivan hears her in the next room with Irina and Darius. He rests back on his bed again and follows a crack in the plaster ceiling as it wanders across the room like a river on a map. Mira said the right girl would recognize his wonderfulness. Maybe, but Ivan’s tired of waiting for that mythical girl who will appreciate his quirks.
Against his better judgment—Ivan knows he has judgment, he just ignores it routinely—he speed dials Barbara’s number on his phone. As predicted, and to his great relief, voice mail picks up.
“Hi, it’s me. Look, I’m really going to be lonely at this party tomorrow without you. Maybe you’ve already made other plans, in fact you probably have, but anyway…I was really looking forward to seeing you.” The words “I love you” are in Ivan’s throat, but he chokes them back down, instead leaving his mother’s address, knowing Barbara could enter it in MapQuest and get directions in a matter of seconds if she were so inclined.
First order of business, Van tells himself. Stop saying
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