Page 91 of A Monster Is Coming

I took his hand and led him away, going toward the dining room, where I had already set the table.

“If you’d like to sit and pour yourself something, I’ll be back with the food.” I turned to leave.

“Do you want me to pour you a glass?” he asked.

“No, I learned my lesson. Me and alcohol are done.” I had promised myself I was never going to end up like my mom and I was sticking to that promise.

I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the oven mitts, took out the two prepared plates, and then I carried them to the table. I placed one in front of Peter, and then I put mine down in my place. I rushed back to the kitchen, took off my mitts, turned off the oven, and returned to the dining room.

Peter had poured me a glass of water, and I picked it up, offering him a smile as I took a large sip. He’d poured himself a glass of whiskey, and trust me, I wasn’t even tempted.

I didn’t get to lose myself in drink. No, what I got was to be embarrassed and the memory of having no control. I had no idea what to say to Peter. I waited as he picked up his knife and fork, cut through the steak, and took a bite.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he offered me a smile. “Delicious.”

“Good. How was your day?” Now I could eat. If he’d not been happy with the food, I wouldn’t have minded going and doing something extra. That was what a wife did, right?

“Eventful. Slavik and the others have returned to their territory.”

“Yes, their wives did call me, and they left numbers for me to contact them. How does that work?” I asked.

“Simple, you want to talk to someone, you call them. They’re your friends now.”

“But I barely know them.”

“I guess that’s what talking is all about.”

“Are you and Ivan friends?” I asked.

“Yes.”

There was a slight hesitation.

“How do you and Ivan know each other?” Peter asked.

I knew I shouldn’t ask questions. I was not going to divulge Ivan’s secret. It was not mine to tell. This was not me being more loyal to Ivan than my husband. This was me being a friend. Ivan was my friend. I frowned and sat back.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Do you ever have those moments of revelation when you suddenly realize something?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I had one.”

“Care to share?”

“Ivan’s my friend,” I said.

Peter looked at me.

“I know, it’s crazy. I, uh, I helped him years ago. I was a stranger to him, and I just wanted to make him feel better, I guess.” I shrugged. I did so without knowing who he was, and yet Ivan had never forgotten about me. I’d not forgotten about him, and I’d hoped he found peace, love, and happiness. I now knew he didn’t have any of those things, but he had gotten a family.

“Ivan’s a hard man to be friends with.”

“I understand that, but … he is my friend. I want to look out for him. Help him. He helped me, and so did you,” I said.

“I was just doing my job.”

---