“Yes, dear, that’s the one. Oh, how he liked to tell me about all the things he’d wish for,” my mother said sweetly. Her voice was soft as she reminisced about a younger Ivan.
“You, me, Vanya, Nik, and anyone else who would listen to him. I swear, for a year, it was seven different things a day he’d want to talk about. Not even like ‘these are my seven wishes.’ No, it was a long, drawn-out conversation about how those wishes could affect and change the world,” I said, shaking my head.
“That’s because he has the heart of a true King,” Kinsley offered as she placed her napkin in her lap.
“Oh, really, and which King would that be?” I asked, pulling her chair closer to me, knowing the movement would be electric. The ever presence of honeysuckle lingered around her as I leaned closer.
“King David,” she breathed out, closing her eyes and then opening them as she heard me laugh. My father cleared his throat.
“Do you mean from the Bible, dear?” my mother asked without missing a beat.
“Yes, ma’am. Prior to Alek’s obsessiveness with following me around town and stalking my places of employment, I used to attend church regularly,” she said sweetly. I shook my head.
“Kinsley tends to exaggerate, Mother. I was not obsessively following or stalking her.”
“Ha, I may exaggerate, but on that, I’m not. I even had an appointment with the chief of police to file a complaint.”
My mother looked horrified as my father chuckled. I leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’re in so much trouble, young lady. Keep it up.” Then I sat back and watched as the emotions washed over her.
“Okay, I wasn’t really going to file a complaint—not that it would have made a difference, since he and the chief were buddy-buddy.” She folded her hands in her lap, all prim and proper-like. “Anyway, Ivan has a gentle heart. I bet all of his wishes were for other people and never for himself.” She looked at my mother knowingly.
“Suck up,” I said in her ear, laughing. She stuck her tongue out, and my eyes zeroed in on it.
Dinner was more relaxed than I thought it would be. If nothing else, my mother’s social etiquette charms were on full display. Kinsley and my father spoke about some of the first editions he had and the cavalier attitude toward books that people, in general, seemed to have these days. I listened, closely watching their exchange.
“I’ll never understand how normal people are so unaffected by books,” she said with a flair of drama.
“Exactly,” my father exclaimed. My mother plastered a look on her face that said “I hear you talking, but I’m mentally somewhere else.” I chuckled as she caught my eye.
“I’m always astonished. They finish a book and are like “it was good,” and then they move on, never giving it much thought. Meanwhile, I’m left having an existential crisis, dreaming about the characters and questioning the entirety of the universe,” Kinsley said passionately.
“And you wonder why Ivan calls you a drama queen,” I said, running my hand down her arm. Touching her was all I could think about. Her skin was warm and soft under my fingertips.
“Ha, he doesn’t call me a drama queen, and you know it. But he does say I’m dramatic.”
“Same thing.”
“I have a copy ofThe Gutenberg Bible,” my father said, watching her face closely.
“Really! Do you ever look at it?” Excitement washed over her, and she danced in the seat.
“Not often,” he answered. I let out the laughter I was holding back as I read the crushed look on her sweet face, and her body instantly stopped moving.
“Father, now you’re just being mean.”
“Right you are, Son. Christopher, stop teasing the child,” my mother admonished.
“I’ll show it to you tomorrow, if you’d like,” my father said, winking.
In her excitement, she got up and rushed over to hug him. Big mistake: halfway over, the balls’ movement registered inside her. And by the look on her face, it must have been in the most incredible way. I erupted in laughter as she clenched her legs together.
She threw a glare my way, one that should’ve come with a warning label as she practically waddled back to her seat. God, she was comical. She looked like she had forgotten how to walk.
“My sweet girl,” I breathed in her ear as my mother and father talked about some friends they had plans with for dinner tomorrow. “How’s my little kitty feeling?” I whispered, dipping my tongue in her ear.
“Do you really want to know?” She’d taken to sitting as still as she could.
“Mm-hmm, I do.”
