More like “days,” plural.
“He’s fine. He’s just going through an adjustment right now.”
“Um, yeah, duh—of course he is. You’re not letting him into the basement.” She tilts her chin down to give me what she calls her “serious stare” and somehow, I end up feeling like the younger sibling. “I was also informed that I had to stay clear of the basement, too. Care to explain?”
I can’t get pissed at Svetlana—those are my orders she’s carrying out. “There’s been a… rat infestation down there.”
Polly’s eyebrows float way up. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Polina.”
“Don’t you Polina me. I’m not a baby anymore, you know. And I’m not Lev, either. I know when you’re making a lame excuse.”
“Then you also know when I’m withholding information for your own good.”
“Fine.” She grimaces. “I guess.”
I steer her towards the dining room, where dinner is being set out. This room didn't always have heavy curtains, but it was the only way to coax Lev into sharing a meal with us once in a while. Even when it was dark out, he preferred that the floor-to-ceiling windows were covered. He got agitated if he saw something move in the dark and he didn’t know what it was.
I don’t blame him.
“Is Nikolai joining us for dinner today?”
“Not today. He’s busy.”
She nods like she doesn’t care, but I can tell she’s disappointed by the way she forces a smile onto her face. “What should we do tonight after dinner? Pillow fight? Movie marathon? Couple rounds of poker?”
“You know what we’ll end up doing,” I grumble.
We both look at each other and say at the same time, “Video games.”
The simple fact of the matter is that, most of the time, our lives revolve around Lev and his needs. But instead of resenting him for it, she just loves him harder. Even if sometimes that means loving him from afar.
Both of us turn to the open doorway when we hear a door slam. A few minutes later, Lev pokes his head around the corner. Polina has always been a why-shake-hands-when-you-can-hug kind of girl. But with Lev, she doesn’t so much as take a step towards him. She knows better.
“Hey, buddy,” she greets. “How’re you doing?”
“Hi, Polly.”
She smiles wider. “Happy to see me?”
He nods uncertainly. He’s two heads taller than she is and twice as big around the middle. But he’s looking at her like a spooked cat. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable or wary around Polly; it’s just that he needs time to adjust to being around anyone new, especially when he hasn’t been for a while. I do the mental calculation—it’s been almost seven weeks since Polly came home for the weekend. For Lev, that might as well be years.
“Can I get a hug?” He shakes his head vigorously and she just smiles harder. “How about a high five then?”
He glances at me. Then at Polly. Then back at me again. “I’m hungry.”
He walks around Pol and sits down in a chair that scrapes across the floor like nails on a chalkboard. I give her shoulder a little squeeze. “Just give him some time.”
She forces another smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should come home more often.”
“You can come home whenever you want to. You know that.”
We sit down to dinner. A cheeseburger for Lev and meatloaf with roasted veggies for Polly and myself. Lev picks at his burger, deconstructing it first before he so much as takes a bite. He examines each mouthful carefully before he eats it.
Polly tries to engage him several times but he either acts like he doesn’t hear her or he just mumbles to himself. When she starts getting frustrated, I pull her into a conversation of our own.
“Tell me about school.”
She rolls her eyes and sighs melodramatically. “It’s been a shitshow. Danielle has a thing for Peter but Peter’s totally into Hannah. Pretty sure Hannah bats for the other team, though, ‘cause I saw her checking out Kaitlyn in the showers last Friday.”
I snort on a sip of my red wine. “Sorry I asked.”
She giggles and Lev recoils in his seat at the unexpected noise. “My bad, Lev,” she mumbles, but he doesn’t make eye contact with either one of us.
“But Hannah can get fucked, anyway. She’s a bitch and I want her to stop picking on my friends.”
Nikolai likes to say that Polly collects strays. Anyone sad, broken, lost, or lonely, Polly takes them under her wing and tries to protect them.