Page 11 of His Surrender
The call disconnected, and I continued toward home. Once there, I fed Sputnik before getting in bed and turning on the TV. AsCold Case Filesplayed, I released a heavy sigh and rolled over, closing my eyes. I needed to put Remi out of my head and go back to my old self. Because this moping-around shit wasn’t me.
A soft meow reached my ears. I sat up and looked down at Sputnik sitting on the floor. He could’ve jumped up on the bed if he tried, but my chubby man was too lazy for it, even when he wanted snuggles. I grabbed him and placed him beside me on the bed. He walked around a second, finding his spot beside my pillow, and then lay down, watching me with his big eyes.
“Spokoynoy nochi,” I said, petting him.
Good night.
The next morning, my mom called and invited me to breakfast. I showered, dressed, and was out the door by eight o’clock. My parents lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, surrounded by homes with white picket fences and nosy neighbors—the kind that sat on their porches and watched everything that went on around them.
“Morning, Jay!” Red, the older lady who lived across the street, said when I got out of my car. She dyed her hair fire-engine red—and had for as long as I could remember—and the nickname had stuck. She even told people to call her that.
I flashed a polite smile. “Mornin’, Red.”
“Still a charmer, I see. If only I was forty years younger.”
I laughed and waved goodbye before walking up the steps to my parents’ house. The door swung open, and I was greeted by my mom. With the same shade of blonde hair and same green eyes, everyone said I favored her in appearance. Ivan did as well. But my brother and I shared Dad’s build and his strong jaw.
“Dobroe utro,” Mom said, pulling me in for a hug.
“Good morning,” I said back to her, kissing her on the cheek. “Something smells good.”
“Your father wanted bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Big breakfast,” she said, her accent thick. “He gets what he wants.” She closed the door once I was inside.
“You spoil him.”
“No more than he does to me.” She smiled and looped her arm through mine as we walked to the kitchen. “You are hungry, yes?”
“Da.”Yes.
“Good,” she said, going over to the stove.
Dad clapped me on the back. His dark hair had streaks of gray, and the hard lines around his eyes showed his years spent laughing. There’d been darkness in those years too. He’d served our country and seen things he still refused to talk about. “Glad you could come over, son.”
“You know I’d never pass on Mom’s cooking. Is Ivan and Foss coming over too?”
“Da,” Mom answered, taking a pan out of the oven.
“Nat, honey, let me do that,” Dad said, going over and placing his hand at the small of her back. “Sit and rest. You’ve been in here all morning.”
She muttered in Russian and swatted him away. He laughed and pulled her against him. Even after so many years together, they were still madly in love. I might not want the same for myself, but seeing them so happy nearly made me rethink that notion.
Then I rememberedhim… the bastard I had tried so hard to forget. And the idea of love slipped back into thehell nodepartment in my brain.
Five minutes later, voices sounded outside the front door before it opened and Foster came through.
“Solnyshka!” Mom said to Foster, hugging him tightly.
Sunshine.
Foster greeted her in Russian, and they talked as they made their way to the kitchen.
“Wow,” Ivan said, shutting the door behind him and watching them walk away. “I feel the love.”
“Ah, little bro.” I threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a noogie. “I’ll show you some love.”
“I don’t want your love,” Ivan countered before shoving me away, the top of his hair now disheveled. “Jerk.”
We joined the rest of the family in the dining room as Mom and Dad placed the food on the table, and then we sat to eat breakfast. Mom had made traditional American pancakes, but she’d also madesirniki, which were small Russian-style pancakes made of farmer cheese and served with jam on top. Mom always made hers with bananas too, which made them even more irresistible.
