Page 62 of Heartfelt Pain
I stare at my refrigerator where I tacked the invitation Yelena handed me earlier today. Admittedly, the cardstock and cursive font are giving off regal wedding vibes. But it is printed on blue paper.
“I think as long as there’s cake and sugar and other kids Sailor will be fine,” I, a childless woman, say. “Will Milo be there?”
Sailor loves to baby Lennie’s nephew around.
Russ takes a breath. “There will be a few other kids,” she admits. “But still! She’s annoying.”
“Can you cancel it?”
There’s another frustrated sigh. “Max wants to placate her. He says we’ll throw an even better party on her actual birthday.”
I stay on the line with her. I assume she’s icing cupcakes or something.
Russet comes to book club. Sometimes she’ll pop into dinner with Len. She’s sarcastic and fierce. I can’t picture myself being a mother, but it comes naturally to Russet. Not just in the way she takes care of her daughter, but everyone around her. She notices our favorite foods and desserts and checks in on us if a couple of weeks go by without seeing each other.
No one gets along with Yelena. I’m not surprised Russ needs to vent especially since it involves her daughter.
Yet, I still find myself saying, “For what it’s worth, Yelena seemed sincere when she showed up.”
She pauses her stress baking, the line quieting. “Tell me what happened? Why did she invite you? I mean no offense.”
“No, I get it. I’m not family and I’m not. . .”
Friends.
Oh fuck, does she know something is going on between me and Roma. Is she worried her son will end up dead thanks to his association with me?
“She showed up around lunch time,” I say.
She appeared out of the blue. Isolde wordlessly went into the kitchen with Abe, leaving the table empty. Yelena didn’t bother to look at Trevino as she sat down.
Fujimori’s is clean and friendly, but there’s no denying it’s a hole in the wall. Yelena’s jewelry costs more than the month’s rent.
She showed no signs of unease as she sat, straight and proud, in the chair in front of me.
“It was quick,” I admit. “She asked how I was doing. Gave me the card. Left. There was a car waiting for her at the curb.”
That’s pretty standard mafia wife stuff. Her bodyguard stood right outside, knowing to tone it down at Fujimori’s.
“Don’t worry,” I tell Russ. “I’m not going to go.”
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not going to go?” she asks. “Are you saying you don’t want to go to my kid’s party?”
“You don’t even want this party to happen.”
“But it is happening and I need as many allies as I can get.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I reason.
“She’s invited over a hundred guests and I know a handful of them.”
My back digs into the kitchen counter, my painted toes wiggling against the rug as I ponder.
Going to my ex-boyfriend’s niece's birthday seems a bit odd considering I don’t get along with his family.
“I’m not exactly close with the Zimin’s,” I remind. “I’m not sure why Yelena invited me. She also invited Abe and Ben, though.”
Russet perks up. “Really? That’s good. Abe is good with kids.”
