Chapter Forty Seven – Day Forty Continued Part Two

I shiver as I take my coat off and Wheeler surprises me by wrapping his arms around me from behind. "You cold, Babe?"

Leaning against him, and in no hurry to break away, I turn my head to smile at him. "No more than I should be, Yankee."

He looks at me closely as if checking for signs of strain, I am okay though and meet his gaze without trepidation. Apparently satisfied, Wheeler kisses my temple and releases me. "What do you need me to do Gram?"

I see my uncle watching as Grandmuska begins giving instructions to Wheeler about taking our guests' coats and fetching them drinks. Uncle Dimitri was silent all the way home but at least I no longer see hatred in his eyes, though I wonder if that is just because he has given up.

"Linka, will you help me prepare the table please." My grandmother recalls my attention and I go with her, losing sight of my uncle.

"Wheeler is a sweet boy," She comments as we set about our work, filling the centre of the table with the many dishes that were prepared earlier. "You could do a lot worse, Little Bird."

I blush and glance over to where Wheeler is struggling to talk to an elderly relative as he tries to follow my grandmother's instructions. Fortunately, and much to my surprise, Dimitri goes to his aid. "I know Grandmuska, but it is more complicated than that."

"Only if you make it so." She replies, unperturbed. Then her face softens and she adds. "He calls me Gram, you know."

"I am sorry if you do not like it." I say quickly but she hushes me.

Shaking her head, "Of course I like it, it makes me feel like I have a new grandchild… it is like he has adopted me." She chuckles, obviously pleased. "It feels natural, like he belongs here."

My cheeks have gotten redder still but I agree with her shyly. "I like it too."

When everything is ready my grandmother calls everyone to sit down at our extended dining table. Wheeler sits next to me with my grandmother on the other side of me, and my uncle next to her.

"Did you set too many places Babe?" Wheeler whispers, nodding to the empty seat where a single glass of vodka and piece of Kolliva have been laid.

"Nyet." I reply, my voice hushed as well, "That is for Boris."

Father Koslov stands up from his seat at the other end of the table to lead us in a short prayer. When I open my eyes I see Uncle Dimitri release my grandmother's hand and I feel a ridiculous stab of jealousy, why cannot he forgive me?

"Are you okay Babe?" My Yankee asks at once, and I force myself to smile at him.

"Da, do not worry about me Jason. Some things are harder than others, but I will not fall apart." I am going to take a sip of my drink and then remember it is alcohol and once more lower my voice. "Do you mind if I drink this? It is vodka…"

I know I do not need his permission of course, but he has very good reasons for not being a fan of spirits and after everything else I have put him through by bringing him back here, I am determined not to make him any more uncomfortable.

He smiles at me and like the smartarse he is, repeats my words back to me with a wink. "Don't worry about me Linka. Some things are harder than others, but I won't fall apart."

It is clear he still worries about me though as he continues. "I don't mind. I don't have anything against alcohol or people who drink it…as long as it's responsibly. But are you sure this is ok for you? I mean, in an actual drug rehab program, alcohol is discouraged…it can still give you that 'high' feeling and make you crave something more intense."

"Da, I know. But this is tradition. I have to do it. I will not lose control. I am responsible. I will not get drunk from one drink though…I am Soviet…vodka is in my blood!" I reply.

He nudges me and teases. "Hmm, I thought it was ice in your veins."

I try to glare at him but end up laughing and he carries on. "As a matter of fact, I'm kinda impressed that you're gonna drink that straight…I'm not gonna have to stop you from dancing on the table later am I?"

Again I laugh and say aloud what I am thinking, nudging him in return. "As if you would stop me! You would probably be encouraging me!"

A little more seriously, I add. "You do not have to drink it if you do not want to."

He is not listening. I cannot tell if it is really respect for the tradition or his ego, but he says he will try it. The durak takes a big gulp and nearly chokes on it. I hide my smile with my own glass and pretend not to notice his eyes watering… I could take pity on him and get him some water but maybe it will teach him not to show off… not likely I know. I try not to notice how adorable he looks as he struggles to overcome the effects, if he sees me looking, it will only encourage him.

The food is delicious, though I am still trying to keep to some of the less spicy options, even if it means passing up some of my favourites. Wheeler looks wary at first and only takes the same things as I do so I suggest a few things that I think he will enjoy.

Everything is going really well until my Uncle points out the Blini to me. The awful thing is, I truly believe he was trying to be nice when he commented how much Boris and I loved them as children and that it was fitting for them to be served here even if they are not as often served at wakes as they used to be.

Traditional Russian blini are made with yeasted batter (containing grated potato, apple or raisins), which is left to rise and then diluted with cold or boiling water or milk. They are more solidly filled than the spongy pancakes usually eaten in North America but they are basically the same thing... only in America, they call them Blintz.

I can feel the colour drain from my face and if I had had any doubt, my grandmother's reaction would have confirmed it. "What is the matter Linka? Are you ill?"

"I… please excuse me!" I dash from the room towards the bathroom, knowing that Wheeler will follow me, and hang my head over the sink just in time.

My grandmother must have followed too because I can hear Wheeler talking to her just before he comes in and closes the door behind us. "It's okay Babe, nothing to worry about."

He begins rubbing my back, as always, not needing to hold back my hair at least. I follow the routine, when my stomach is empty I rinse out my mouth and then fall into Wheeler's waiting arms. My Yankee sits on the closed lid of the toilet and settles me on his lap.

"Too much of a mix, huh?" he rubs my belly.

"Nyet, it was not that." I swallow, knowing my tears have probably made my make-up run, I must look terrible. "I think it was a psychological reaction to the… the blintz."

Falling in, Wheeler holds me tight and starts to rock me. "Oh Babe, I'm sorry."

I am probably imagining it but there is something about the way he said that, that made it sound more like, 'I knew we shouldn't have come.' I know he is still not happy about us being here but I thought perhaps… I could change his mind. Now I think I have proved him right, but I cannot avoid my family forever and I could have reacted like this anywhere.

"Thank you." I say after a while, sitting up straighter. "I am okay now."

"You wanna go back to the dinner?" He sounds dubious but at least he is asking and not already trying to prevent me.

I nod. "I have to face them sometime, it is better if I do not think about it too much."

He cups my face and rubs my cheek with his thumb, teasing softly. "You better fix your face then Beautiful, you're streaky."

I chuckle and get up. "Go on back Yankee, I will not be long."

He hesitates but then nods and gets up. "See you in a bit."

Wheeler was right, my face is a mess but as I look in the mirror and start to correct my appearance, it is him that I am thinking of and not what caused my distress.

To be continued…

A/N: And don't forget, to get the full affect of the story, you HAVE TO read Wheeler's side of the story in Becks7's Co-dependents Chapter 47! Let us know what you think!