Page 22 of The Delivery

Housing court is two days later, and our extension isn’t granted. We’re given two days to vacate the house and move my parents in with my uncle Viktor, the one whose last name is Finch and who doesn’t get along with my dad. My mom thinks his wife, Aunt Kirsten is too artificial and that she doesn’t care about her kids. I think she intimidates Mom, somehow makes her feel inadequate and old-fashioned.

We eat lunch at a crappy downtown diner, and everyone’s in shock. I’m thinking back to the times when I was small and I thought we were well off. My parents worked menial jobs with very long hours, but they doted on Alexei and me, and we had everything we wanted. I stir my chicken-noodle soup around and around in it’s bowl. I keep adding crackers without taking a bite, and then I can’t eat anything when my mother starts crying.

My father comforts her softly in Russian as she snivels into the shoulder of his well-worn cardigan with dark-brown leather elbow patches. Mozey is with us, squished in the booth next to Lex. I’m on the very end, one butt cheek hanging off. I look at Mozey and register how strange it is that he’s here. He’s like a parasite, but a good one that’s taken ahold of us. I still hate that I’m so attracted to him. Maybe if I weren’t we could just adopt him. But who am I kidding? Who’d want into this family? We haven’t even got a place to live and the future of our finances is banking on one lousy social worker and her unmotivated little brother.

“Hey, everybody,” Mozey says, grabbing all of our attention. “I’ve done this before. It’s not so bad. It’s just called starting over. I’ve lost my house, had nothing, but life still goes on.”

“Thank you, Mozey, for your words,” my dad says, leaning across the table and roughing up Mozey’s shoulder. My parents have accepted him as if he were their third kid. Since when is it so easy to just snake into this family? Just ride a bus to Detroit and then you get to be one of us? I’ve paid my dues over twenty-five long years, and I’m not gonna lie, a whole lot of those years have been pretty shitty. Especially the ones where I’ve been footing all of the bills.

“Starting over from zero,” I say morosely. I’m not in the mood to be cheered up. I loved my house. I love my family. I don’t understand how things could be so fucked.

“A fresh start!” Mozey says, smiling, and I shoot him a dirty look. I wish his cheerful ass would shut the hell up.

“Mom and Dad, Lana and I discussed how this should be done. Dad, it will be too emotional for Mom to see her things carted off.”

My dad nods in agreement then massages his brow. All this negotiation has been going on for years, and now suddenly the threats are all real. It’s a done deal. Our house is up for short sale—but more likely it will be demolished and the land sold, our house is in bad shape.

“You and Mom will pack tonight with just the absolute necessities. You can mark whatever you want put in storage, and tomorrow we’ll take care of that. There won’t be much room for furniture so most of it will end up going to the dump.”

Alexei assumes my mom won’t understand this, but she does and again bursts out crying.

Mozey grabs my mom’s hand, and I practically fall out of my seat. She looks at him sincerely as she wipes away her tears.

“Mrs. Finch, they won’t take anything you don’t want them to.” His gesture is kind but his appropriation of everything mine is down right blowing my freaking mind. How do you just insert yourself into someone’s family over the course of a few days? It’s his job to comfort my mother? His easy character drives me nuts. Now he’s charmed everyone into caring for him, and it doesn’t seem fair.

I shove my soup away from myself and abruptly stand.

“I’ll wait in the car,” I say, throwing some cash on the table.

I storm out of the diner and head toward the car. I stomp my foot when I realize that Lex has the keys, and it’s colder outside than I remembered it being. I lean against the car, trying to get the best angle of the sun. I’ve got to get some space between me and him before he drives me insane.

I squint and look up at the weak sun and smile. I remember when I was a teenager and I took a towel to the back yard to try to tan my pasty Siberian skin, and my dad came out to do some yard work. I must have been around thirteen.

“Why are laying down, Svetlana?” he asked me with genuine curiosity.

“To get a tan, Dad. You know, to try to get bronzed. Beach girl—like Malibu Barbie.”

That’s when my dad schooled me on how Russians tan standing up. Then everything is exposed at once.

“You won’t have to flip around like a grilled sandwich.” I remember him telling me.

I smile into the weak sun as the memory warms me. My dad always did stand on the beach or at the lake. The sweetness of the memory honeys the sting. Goodbye to that backyard. Goodbye to all of those memories.

I open my eyes when I see a shadow cross over my lids. Mozey Cruz is blocking my sun and all up in my personal space.

“You got a lot of nerve following me here,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “Hijacking my family, trying to take over crisis control!” I cross my arms and stare him down. “That’s my job. And speaking of jobs, having you here could make me lose mine. I support my family, Mozey, by eating shitty Ramen for dinner, packing toast for breakfast every morning and NEVER even going to the movies!”

Tears are streaming down my face, and I can’t even remember the last time I cried. I’m numb to tragedy especially when I work with it daily and it’s my job to try to smooth it.

“I’m sorry, Lana. Would you rather have me leave?’

He looks so handsome when he says it, grown-up concern shadowing his beautiful face.

“I wanted to help you, but if I’m not helping, I’ll leave.”

I put my hands on my hips and groan and cry a little more.

“Just say the word, I’ll go. Am I no longer a team asset?”

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