Chapter 14
The next morning, my phone woke me as it vibrated on the table beside my bed. I groped for it, my eyes still unfocussed from sleep, and answered without looking at the caller display.
"Uh huh."
"Davor."
"Hey!" Instantly I was awake.
"Sorry, I, um, my kid's been in the hospital. My phone's been off."
Both relief and horror filled me at the same time: relief that he called, and shock that one of his kids was sick or hurt. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have kids, but I knew plenty of people who did, and they'd be distraught if anything happened to them.
"What happened to, um, him? Her?"
"Per. He broke his arm in three places. Fell out of a tree. He takes after me. I was always doing shit like that when I was a kid. He's okay now. Had two surgeries. They fucked up the first one and had to redo it." He sighed heavily. "It sucks, seeing your kid in pain like that. So, I spent the last few days in the hospital most of the time, or looking after Oscar at home if Monica was there. Oscar's my four-year-old."
"I'm sorry, that must have been hell. How is Per now?"
"Better. He's home, and begging all my boys to draw tattoos on his cast." He laughed a little. "So, um, you missed me, did you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Did I really say that?"
"You said it. It's on my voicemail."
"Well, I guess that must be true, then." For the first time in about fifteen years, I felt heat in my face.
Petter laughed. "Where are you?"
"In bed."
He groaned. "Fuck, don't tell me that."
"You could join me." I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. "No, bad idea. I'm at the house."
Now, he laughed. "Yeah, I don't think the Family Mimica would be too happy to see me."
"Can you get away today?"
"Maybe not. Monica has some shit to do. I need to stay home with the kids. Tomorrow?"
"Okay. I'll be at the apartment then. Just come over when you're ready."
"Will do. I have to go now. See you." He ended the call.
I put the phone down. Everything was okay with us. Obviously I wasn't happy his son got hurt, but at least he hadn't been avoiding me by switching his phone off.
The Family ate together that evening. It was Sunday and the restaurant closed at eight, meaning we could enjoy a meal together as was tradition. Stefan's place at the table was conspicuously empty. I glanced around the others, all in their usual places: Blanka, Pawel, Christian, Zvonomir, Jovan, my mother. I ate in silence, not really listening to the conversation going on around me. My mind was on Petter. The last time we'd seen each other he'd brought all that new bike gear for me. I should buy him something, but what? The only lover I'd ever bought anything for had been Markus, and even then, only because it had been his birthday. I gave him an Omega wristwatch.
"Davor!" Blanka shouted at me suddenly.
"What?" I jumped and put my wineglass down so hard, the wine inside sloshed over the rim.
"You're so off with the fairies, you didn't hear anything I just said to you."
I glared. "It can't have been very important, then."
The others fell silent.
"Blanka was asking if you've seen Hilde lately," Dubravka said.
"Who's Hilde?" Jovan immediately put in.
I groaned. "No one."
"She's his girlfriend," Blanka told him.
I slammed the palm of my hand onto the table. "I don't have a girlfriend," I snapped. "I told you it was a casual thing, but you won't drop it."
"I think he protests too much." Pawel chuckled and choked on the mouthful of food he was chewing.
"There's no need to be embarrassed about it, Davor. We all want to see you happy," Dunbravka said.
"Jesus Christ," I muttered.
"So, are you seeing this Hilde, or not?" Zvonomir eyed me across the table in his sly way.
"No, all right? I was, but I'm not any more. It's done. Now, can we talk about something else?"
Some of them glanced at me sceptically, but they started talking about other things again, except for Zvonomir. Every time I looked his way, he was staring at me thoughtfully, as if he didn't believe me.
The next day, I had Christian drive me into the city. I picked up a couple of new ties, a pair of shoes, some groceries, and a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"I thought you preferred Scotch," he said.
"I like both." I frowned.
"Is it for, um, a friend?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your family keep teasing you about a girl. Are you seeing someone?"
I sighed.
"I don't expect you to answer that. I'm just interested. You know I would never say anything."
"Yes, I'm seeing someone. I made up that stupid name, Hilde, thinking it would get them off my back. But no, now they're imagining me at the altar, for fuck's sake."
Christian grinned. "What's he like?"
"I've said all I'm going to say. You can drop me at the bar on Twelfth Street."
"What do I tell the Family?"
"That you dropped me at the bar on Twelfth Street."
"Yes, boss." He smiled, and turned the car into the street. I almost wished he wasn't who he was. If he'd really been one of us, he would probably be the one I could trust more than any of the others.
Petter arrived at my apartment an hour after I did. He didn't have his bike gear with him and I guessed he'd brought his truck, or the red car which I'd learned was Monica's. A few flakes of snow were falling, so I supposed it would be too cold on a motorcycle, and probably too slippery. I buzzed him in and waited in the open doorway for him to get out of the lift. No one was around, and as soon as he reached me, I grabbed him and pulled him against me. We started kissing before we got the door closed.
When he pulled away to get out of the thick fur-lined leather jacket he was wearing, he laughed. "You really did miss me."
"Yes, I missed you, you fucker." I didn't care about saying it. I was too happy to have him with me.
"I missed you, too." He didn't stop at the outer jacket, but began unbuttoning the denim jacket he wore underneath. Beneath that, was a tee shirt with some band's name on it that I'd never heard of. He pulled that off, too. I realised I was standing staring and doing nothing, and I quickly began to take off my clothes, backing towards the bedroom as I did so.
...
"This feels good." Petter nuzzled my neck and ran his hand down my back. It was a couple of hours later, and we were buried under my blankets, cuddling and not talking.
"Yeah, it does." I tilted my head down and kissed his ear. "You hungry?"
"Getting that way."
"What do you want to eat?"
"I don't care. I'll eat anything within reason." He rolled onto his back and stretched. "What are you thinking?"
"I'll make something."
"Oh, you cook?" He grinned at me as I sat up.
"Of course I cook, I own a fucking restaurant." I slid out of the bed and went to take a quick shower. Petter stayed in bed until I finished. I put on a pair of black trousers and the blue sweater he gave me, and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, I heard the shower running.
I poured myself a glass of wine and set about making a beef and mushroom goulash with potatoes. I found some jazz music on my phone and placed it on the windowsill to accompany me as I chopped, sliced, and stirred.
Petter appeared after a while, wearing his jeans and the denim jacket, unfastened, his hair wet. "That smells good."
"It's goulash."
"Croatoan?"
"No, Hungarian. It's just something I like. You want some wine?"
He wrinkled his nose.
"Oh, well, I got you something." I indicated the bottle bag on the counter. "Help yourself."
"You don't have to buy me stuff."
"It's not much, compared to all that gear you got for me."
He pulled out the bottle. "Okay. This, I appreciate." He found a glass and poured a generous measure. Then he reached for my phone. "What the hell is this shit you're playing?"
I laughed. "You can change it. I like most types of music."
A minute later, ACDC's "Thunderstruck" filled the kitchen. I finished making the meal and we sat down to eat together. I felt happy, I realised. I couldn't remember a situation in my past where I'd known real happiness and enjoyed myself like this. I didn't want it to end, and I knew I'd do everything I could to make sure that didn't happen.