Thank you for reading and your kind reviews. Input and advice much appreciated.
This chapter has a big trigger warning for mentions of an eating disorder and swearing. Enjoy and thanks for reading!
Ch 4
Saturday was lazy and as much as she tried to think of something cool to do there wasn't much point in doing anything without people to hang out with. Flipping open the paper she checked the movie times at the theatre in the next town over, nibbling her bottom lip as her papa poked his head into the kitchen.
"And what are you going to get up to on your night off?" he asked going to their wine rack to select something that would pair well with dinner.
"Je ne sais pas," she murmured in thought before sighing and giving up on the movie. "Not much of anything. How about I help you with dinner?"
He arched an eyebrow as they both recalled the time she'd tried to make cookies which had ended up a blackened mess.
"Prep work only. Chopping, dicing, chilling, dressing," she clarified with a sheepish smile.
"D'accord," he said as she hopped off her seat and rolled her sleeves up to wash her hands thoroughly. "Your cooking skills resemble Arthur's more zhen mine."
"I'll say. How's the new restaurant going?" she asked wiping her hands off on a paper towel.
"It goes. But I am thinking of driving up to Buffalo with your father in the near future. I want to check on Glacee," he said referring to the swanky wine bar he owned.
"You should. You two haven't gone out of town in awhile," she said thinking it over as Francis tied his hair back and looked at her with a hesitant smile.
"Papa I'll be fine if you guys leave the house. I won't have any wild parties, shoot heroin through my eyeballs, or even use the basement for a cult ritual," she said trying to lighten the mood.
"Oui. I worry too much," he said shaking his head, washing up at the sink. "I know I 'ide it better then Arthur but I cannot 'elp it. I worried about everything from the bath temperature to the material of your diapers when we brought you and your sister 'ome from the 'ospital. It does not change now zhat you and the rest of mes bebes are grown up."
"I know. Well I don't know but I guess what I mean is thanks," she said as he bent to kiss his daughter's cheek before moving to pull fillets from the refrigerator.
Her parents were a lot alike but in many ways so different. Francis she felt like she could come to and talk with about anything no matter how light or dark the matter. Whereas Arthur always made her feel like she had to choose her words carefully.
XX
"Are you excited?" Amelia cooed the next morning over Sunday brunch Francis topped off her French toast with berries. There was less than a week until the long awaited home hockey game for Matthew's team the Tundra Bears and it was on everyone's mind.
"Frick yeah," Matthew said eagerly as he poured a generous amount of maple syrup on his breakfast.
"I'm filming the entire game. Then your brother and sister can watch it when they're in town," Arthur said proudly as Francis took a seat beside him and kissed his cheek.
"I'm so pumped," Amelia said cutting into her food and taking a big bite. "Two more weeks and we get to see you kick ass and take names."
"As your sister charmingly put it, we are all looking forward to it cherie," Francis replied in amusement.
"You guys should go out and celebrate after you cream them," Amelia said between bites of foods. "And I am totally gonna make a banner. If you're embarrassed too damn bad. I'm going all out for my big bro."
"Whatever you wanna do Mia," Matthew said with a smile as he basked in his family's love and support. "Oh and I won't be in for dinner tomorrow. Kat and I are going out so we can see one another before the big game.
"Ooh I wonder if I can babysit Nat and have her help me out with the banner," Amelia grinned before spearing a berry with her fork.
"Or maybe you could find yourself someone to take you out for some fun," Arthur said before sipping from his cup of Earl Grey.
"I don't mind dad," she insisted with a shrug.
"Ma petite, zhis is your father's way of telling you zhat 'ee is going to set you up on a date," Francis said in amusement while Arthur looked pointedly at his husband and Amelia groaned.
"Come on dad! No way!"
"Now don't be like that. You haven't dated anyone since…since New York," Arthur said as Amelia steadfastly avoided eye contact. "Don't you think it would be good to try someone new? Just have a nice meal together and see how the evening goes? You might actually like him."
"Maybe I'm not interested in dinner. Maybe I just wanna fuck and then skip cuddling to play video games before I fall asleep," Amelia muttered stabbing a piece of fruit with her fork hard.
"Oh honestly Amelia why must you be so difficult!"
"Why do you have to butt into my life all the damn time?"
"Well someone has to! If we hadn't you would have probably died," Arthur shouted before covering his mouth with his hand, tears welling up in his eyes as Amelia pushed her chair back and set her plate in the sink.
"Amelia," Francis said sadly standing up to rest his hand on her shoulder. "We just want to see you 'appy."
"I need some freaking air," she declared shrugging off his hand. Before marching to the front door and yanking on shoes. She heard her parents quietly bickering and shook her head in disgust. With angry tears in her eyes as she booked it.
XX
She didn't care where she was walking as long as there was sidewalk in front of her and plenty of tread left in her converse shoes. She just needed air and sometimes to be far away from home.
Sniffing from all of her crying she wiped her running nose on her sleeve. Gross.
Her troubles had started two years ago. She had been living in New York, one of many talented ballerinas working in a dance troupe. One night the lead had gotten sick. That's when Amelia had stepped in. All eyes and lights had shone on her that evening. It had been wonderful, the elation and praise. Knowing she had succeeded. It was almost like a drug.
But that meant she couldn't slack off. She had to keep going and pushing herself for better. Sometimes she felt like she had no control over herself. Always dancing, practicing. Each routine again and again until she could achieve near flawless dance moves.
That was around the time when she'd stopped eating. It had been casual. One morning she'd gone to rehearsal with nothing but coffee for breakfast. But soon it was spiraling out of control. The more her nerves worked on her the harder she came down on herself to be disciplined when it came to her food intake.
She'd assured her family that she was fine. Having the time of her life. When her oldest brother had come to see her, he'd been shocked. He kept telling her that he didn't recognize her. Little had she known that he'd phoned their parents and then the questions had started.
For a brief and dark point in her life she'd shut them out. How dare they try to get in the way of her success? Her father had signed her up for ballet when she'd been ten. Saying she needed a disciplined outlet for her energies. Looks like his plan had gone too well.
Finally her sister had phoned her up and left a voice mail; crying as she pleaded with Amelia to get help before it was too late. That had snapped her out of it long enough to check her into a rehabilitation clinic for eating disorders.
The months and days had stretched on as she slowly learned to accept the bites of food she put in her mouth that she wouldn't fail if she ate and took care of herself. She had been lucky and gotten help before any permanent problems or health conditions arose because of her sickness.
She shakily scrubbed her hand over her face as she walked deep in thought. Her father as much as she loved him pushed for things she didn't want or need.
Her stomach chose to growl loudly, alerting her that she'd missed breakfast and would need to put a halt to her brooding for some food.
Spotting a café across the street she changed her course, pulse racing too fast and her throat tight. Without looking she stepped off the curb. A horn honked and before she could even comprehend what was happening rock hard arms locked around her waist and spun her away from the street sending her backwards as the car sped by in a blur.
She stared dumbly as it drove away before looking up into the face of one pissed off Ivan Braginsky as he stared down at her angrily. She swore she felt a physical chill just from looking up into his eyes. He was swearing in a quiet, intense voice and in Russian she thought as tears suddenly began to burn in her eyes all over again.
"ты чё, сука, охуел, бля?" he growled down at her as her chin jutted out, while tears streamed down her face.
"Screw you!" she said flipping him off before moving to walk past him.
"I do not think so," he said grabbing her hand in his and dragging her over to a bench.
"Get the hell off of me!" she bit out, trying to yank her hand away.
"I am thinking you need to calm down," he said dryly as if he were talking to a toddler as he sat down and pulled her arm. Shit the guy was strong, she thought as she was forced to sit hip to hip beside him.
"Now. Sit," he said looking over at her coolly.
She hiccupped and wiped her face, the tears refusing to stop as she sat silently beside him. He reached into his jacket and she thought he was going to offer her a tissue. He produced a flask to her surprise and held it out to her.
She sniffed and took it from him, twisting the cap off and drinking it down. Vodka burned her throat and she coughed as he took the flask from her. He drank with one hand while the other patted her back firmly until she was slumped forward, breathing shakily.
They just sat together for a few minutes not saying anything. Gradually she became aware of the breeze, the sounds of driving cars, people chatting as they walked by.
"Thanks," she said finally, not looking at him. "Please don't tell Matthew about this."
"Its forgotten," he said with a shrug as he watched her curiously out of the corner of his eye.
"You're being pretty nice," she said with her eyes closed. "I mean for you because you're not very nice."
"False smiles and small talk just to appease people for the sake of politeness. I find it distasteful," Ivan stated looking up at the sky.
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Big bad Braginsky. Too busy to say howdy neighbor, how are you today?"
"And little Jones is as sweet as can be unless you piss her off. Then watch out," he said with a scoff.
"Hey! At least I give people the benefit of the doubt," she said pointing her finger in his face. "I try to be a good person. It's not easy to put a grin on your face when you don't feel like it or pretend everything's just dandy but sometimes you do for the people around you and you just freaking deal with it."
He looked at her seriously, with pity? It made her feel sick to her stomach. The uncomfortable silence had managed to get even more uncomfortable.
A few minutes later he finally swore softly as he decided to break the silence.
"It would be a good idea to pretend we do not dislike one another quite as much as we do. For the sake of our siblings. At least to keep up appearances. Something you are quite good at."
"Having a lot of trouble with that lately when I'm around you," she stated crossing her arms. "Let's not make this a regular thing."
"Agreed."
XX
If anyone's curious about what Ivan said in Russian it was, are you fucking crazy you asshole? Ah the internet. Teaching us how to swear in every language.