Finally, he stops and turns toward me. “I know you will be mad, and you have the right to be. I hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you right away. I’m sorry.”
My eyes go wide, my jaw nearly hitting the floor as I watch his fingers making familiar shapes while he talks. The way his hands move, quickly and with ease . . . my God, he’s not just familiar with sign language. I know just enough for an everyday conversation. I would never be able to have philosophical discussions and such. But the way Mikhail signs, it’s evident that he’s a pro.
“Why?” I sign and stare at him, making sure all the sadness and disappointment are visible on my face.
“Because it would have required explaining, and I wasn’t ready to give that to you. I’m sorry.”
“And you couldn’t just say so?”
I get off the bed and, without looking at him, go straight to the guest room, slamming the door with all my might.
*
The sound of Lena’s giggling reaches my ears, and I sit up in the bed. I spent two hours lying there, looking at the ceiling, thinking.
Mikhail knows sign language, and he didn’t say a word about it this whole time. It was selfish and rude, like putting the earplugs in your ears on purpose, just so you won’t hear what the other person has to say. I feel so betrayed.
“But I want pancakes,” Lena’s voice reaches me through the door. “Please, Daddy.”
I don’t hear what Mikhail says, only Lena’s unhappy reply. “Okay, Daddy.”
When I exit the guest room, I see Mikhail standing by the counter, a pan and a carton of eggs in front of him. Lena is sitting on the carpet in the living room, playing with the book we bought the other day, but when she sees me coming, she jumps up and runs in my direction.
“Bianca, Bianca, can you make pancakes? Daddy doesn’t know how to make pancakes. Can you make pancakes?”
I smile, brush the back of my palm over her rosy cheek, and nod.
She squeals in delight, grabs my hand, and starts dragging me toward the kitchen. “Daddy, Daddy, Bianca will make pancakes.”
She ushers me over to the stove, and I find myself standing next to Mikhail, with my shoulder brushing his arm. Lena lets go of my hand and runs back to the living room, leaving me alone with my deceiver of a husband.
“You don’t have to,” he says without looking at me. “I’ll make her scrambled eggs.”
I ignore him and go to the other side of the kitchen to get the mixer from the drawer, then open the cupboard to take out a bowl. It’s on the second shelf, so I raise onto my toes and reach for it. Two large hands circle my waist as Mikhail lifts me the last couple of inches. Once I get what I'm after, he lowers me down without a word, then leaves the kitchen and heads to sit on the floor next to Lena. She takes the book and moves onto his lap, and I watch him as he points at something on the page and starts making animal noises. Lena giggles and kisses him on the cheek, then points to something else.
I start making the pancake batter but can’t resist throwing a look at them every few minutes. He is so strange, my husband. I don’t understand him, and I’m still mad at him, but I can’t make myself ignore his presence. It’s as if a magical force pulling me toward him. Even though I’m mad, it takes a great deal of self-control to keep myself from going over there just to be closer to him.
While I am waiting for the pancake to cook, I scroll through my messages on the phone. There are three from Milene, asking how things are going and asking about Nonna’s present. Shit. I forgot about it again. I shoot her a quick text saying that everything is fine and asking about school. The next message is from Angelo.
11:17 Angelo: Everybody knows Mikhail fucking Orlov! I can’t believe Dad went through with that! Are you okay? I don’t know when I’ll be back. I have some shit to deal with here, but as soon as I’m back I’m coming to see you. If he does something to you, you need to tell me right away and I’ll handle him.
I flip the pancakes and read the message one more time, confused. What does he think Mikhail is doing to me?
21:13 Bianca: I am great. What’s the problem with me being married to Mikhail? Did you two get in a fight at some point or something?
My mom’s message is next. She is asking about that shopping trip I promised, again. I ignore it, put my phone away and get back to the pancakes.
I am almost done when Mikhail’s phone rings. He takes the call, and for a few moments, he just listens to the person on the other end, then curses. Scooping Lena up, he carries her into the kitchen, places her on one of the barstools, and turns toward me.