warm presence, and cracked open the book.
Hours went by, and I reveled in the absolute quiet, the city seeming far away from where I sat in Annika’s living room, insulated in the brownstone. I’d woken her once a few hours before — she was nestled in her bed with the curtains drawn, her face slack and soft. She looked like a girl like that, the hardness gone, her hair out of its tight bun and spread across her pillow like spun gold.
I’d almost touched her face, realizing at the last second just how intimate the gesture was, but I barely stopped myself, as if her skin begged to be touched. Instead I touched her arm, and she opened her eyes sleepily, said she felt fine, other than being tired still, and asked to sleep some more. So I obliged.
I checked my watch — it was time to wake her again, and this time I thought it might be best if she stay awake for a stretch, especially if she wanted to sleep that night. So I headed into the kitchen, looking around for the coffee pot, or a tea pot. They were right next to each other, along with a small box of tea, so I took it as a sign that it was a regular thing and filled up the electric teapot.
It was old and loud, the water hissing and bubbling as I searched for a coffee cup.
“Stop right there,” a hard, cautious, female voice said from behind me.
I put my hands up, though a mug with an illustrated monkey hung on my pointer finger. When I turned, I found a woman who looked like she could be Annika’s sister, leaning toward me with an outstretched hand wielding mace. A little girl peeked out from behind her with golden hair just like her mother, and blue eyes like ping pong balls, widened in fear.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”
My hands were still up. “I’m Joel. Annika didn’t text you?”
Her brow dropped, but her hand didn’t. “No. Why?”
“She got a concussion at work.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, upstairs sleeping. Could you maybe lower the mace? I dunno if you’ve ever been maced, but it’s what I imagine hell feels like.”
“Oh, sorry.” She lowered the spray and extending her hand for a shake. “This is Kira, and I’m Roxy, Annika’s cousin.”
I took her hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for the confusion.”
She waved a hand and wrapped it around the little girl’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you were here. I wonder why she didn’t call me?”
“Said she didn’t want to be a bother.”
Roxy rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. I’m surprised she even let you stay here with her.”
I smirked. “Me too, but I’m persistent.”
“You have to be, with her.”
The teapot dinged, and I turned to pour out a cup. “She drinks tea, yeah?”
“Yeah, she does. How long have you been here?”
I shrugged. “Since one or so, when we got back from the hospital.”
“And you’ve just been sitting here?”
“Reading, but yeah. Met your cat.”
One blond eyebrow rose. “Kaz?”
“That’s his name? I was wondering. He kept me company all day. Sweet cat.”
“ Kazimir? Destroyer of peace? That cat is pure evil and hates everyone.”
I frowned. “Seriously? Because he just laid on me and purred for hours.”
She shook her head. “You must have some weird voodoo on you because the only people that old cat loves are Annika and Kira.”
The little girl nodded. “He wears dolly dresses for tea parties.”
Roxy made a face. “Yeah, and he pees in my closet. Oh, once? I came home and he’d shredded my feather pillow. He was sitting on my bed like a goddamn prince surrounded in goose down. Ublyudok. ”
I recognized the word. “Bastard?”
She smirked. “She told you?”
“Lucky guess.” I picked up Annika’s tea. “Mind if I take this up to her?”
“Be my guest.”
“Thanks,” I said as I passed, though when I rounded the corner, I found a sleepy Annika shuffling down the stairs, hand pressed to her
Hours went by, and I reveled in the absolute quiet, the city seeming far away from where I sat in Annika’s living room, insulated in the brownstone. I’d woken her once a few hours before — she was nestled in her bed with the curtains drawn, her face slack and soft. She looked like a girl like that, the hardness gone, her hair out of its tight bun and spread across her pillow like spun gold.
I’d almost touched her face, realizing at the last second just how intimate the gesture was, but I barely stopped myself, as if her skin begged to be touched. Instead I touched her arm, and she opened her eyes sleepily, said she felt fine, other than being tired still, and asked to sleep some more. So I obliged.
I checked my watch — it was time to wake her again, and this time I thought it might be best if she stay awake for a stretch, especially if she wanted to sleep that night. So I headed into the kitchen, looking around for the coffee pot, or a tea pot. They were right next to each other, along with a small box of tea, so I took it as a sign that it was a regular thing and filled up the electric teapot.
It was old and loud, the water hissing and bubbling as I searched for a coffee cup.
“Stop right there,” a hard, cautious, female voice said from behind me.
I put my hands up, though a mug with an illustrated monkey hung on my pointer finger. When I turned, I found a woman who looked like she could be Annika’s sister, leaning toward me with an outstretched hand wielding mace. A little girl peeked out from behind her with golden hair just like her mother, and blue eyes like ping pong balls, widened in fear.
“Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?”
My hands were still up. “I’m Joel. Annika didn’t text you?”
Her brow dropped, but her hand didn’t. “No. Why?”
“She got a concussion at work.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, upstairs sleeping. Could you maybe lower the mace? I dunno if you’ve ever been maced, but it’s what I imagine hell feels like.”
“Oh, sorry.” She lowered the spray and extending her hand for a shake. “This is Kira, and I’m Roxy, Annika’s cousin.”
I took her hand. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for the confusion.”
She waved a hand and wrapped it around the little girl’s shoulders. “No, it’s okay. I’m glad you were here. I wonder why she didn’t call me?”
“Said she didn’t want to be a bother.”
Roxy rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. I’m surprised she even let you stay here with her.”
I smirked. “Me too, but I’m persistent.”
“You have to be, with her.”
The teapot dinged, and I turned to pour out a cup. “She drinks tea, yeah?”
“Yeah, she does. How long have you been here?”
I shrugged. “Since one or so, when we got back from the hospital.”
“And you’ve just been sitting here?”
“Reading, but yeah. Met your cat.”
One blond eyebrow rose. “Kaz?”
“That’s his name? I was wondering. He kept me company all day. Sweet cat.”
“ Kazimir? Destroyer of peace? That cat is pure evil and hates everyone.”
I frowned. “Seriously? Because he just laid on me and purred for hours.”
She shook her head. “You must have some weird voodoo on you because the only people that old cat loves are Annika and Kira.”
The little girl nodded. “He wears dolly dresses for tea parties.”
Roxy made a face. “Yeah, and he pees in my closet. Oh, once? I came home and he’d shredded my feather pillow. He was sitting on my bed like a goddamn prince surrounded in goose down. Ublyudok. ”
I recognized the word. “Bastard?”
She smirked. “She told you?”
“Lucky guess.” I picked up Annika’s tea. “Mind if I take this up to her?”
“Be my guest.”
“Thanks,” I said as I passed, though when I rounded the corner, I found a sleepy Annika shuffling down the stairs, hand pressed to her
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