pucker. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed once and then again to rid himself of the taste.
She opened the oven door, draped a tea towel over her hands and removed the loaf of bread. She put it on the counter and wiped her forehead with the same cloth. âThis is what you need,â she said. âEverything will be better soon.â A strand of hair escaped the combs she pushed into the waves to keep the hair off her face. It stuck to her wet cheek.
His head drooped and he lurched up. The chair scraped against the stone floor.
âMaybe you should rest, Nicky. Eat later.â
She led him down the hall to his old room. He thought about taking a shower, but it was more effort than he could manage. The bed squeaked as he lay down, just as it had when he was a boy. She took off his shoes, put a pillow under his head and covered him with the old comforter. It smelled of mildew. As she bent down to kiss the top of his head her hair fell against his cheek.
He wasnât sure how long heâd slept, but did remember her coming in to see him. His father stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, his eyes softer. Theyâd spoken to each other, but he couldnât hear what was said. Nicolai couldnât remember his father ever being tender with his mother and wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing.
In the shower, the spray massaged his neck and shoulders and the hot water surrounded him in a mist he wished he could disappear into. As the water cooled, he turned the cold tap down gradually until there was no hot water left. He got out of the shower, changed and came into the kitchen.
âWater isnât cheap like in your country,â his father said. He put his coffee down and dropped the section of the paper heâd been reading on top of the pile on the floor.
âYou must be hungry now, Nicky,â his mother said and got up. âSit here.â
âHeâs a man. Stop using his baby name.â He picked up another section of the paper and opened it in front of his face.
She shook her head. âYour father doesnât understand.â She pushed Nicolai onto the chair. âYour sisters are coming tonight for dinner. They came many times in the last day or so, but I told them to let you rest.â
âIâve been asleep for a day?â
âMaybe more,â his father said. âThe young never understand responsibility.â
âYour sisters will be happy to see you.â
âMaybe they will stop their phone calls. Youâre back. We know.â
Nicolai sat down across from his father, the newspaper between them. Neither said another word. His mother brought him a coffee. âNow youâll feel better.â
âI have to go.â His father got up and tossed the paper on the floor.
âIs there anything I can help you with?â Nicolai asked. He stood up, leaned against the table for support, looked beyond his father to the back door.
âYou can help your mother.â
Nicolai sat down on his bed and stared at his feet. His sisters were going to be here soon. Theyâd want to know his plans. What was he doing here? How long was he staying? Was Alexia going to join him? It tired him to think about questions with no answers. He wasnât going to plan anything again. That much he knew. Life interfered anyway. What was the point?
He told himself heâd lie down for a few minutes until his sisters arrived. The sun jabbed at his eyelids, but he didnât turn his back to the window. Alexia was probably in school right now. She loved school; she loved her godparents. He saw her eager smile. He wished he could bring it on as easily as Sara had. Alexia was fine where she was.
Whispered voices, laughter and the scuff of pans sliding into the oven prodded him awake. Sounds from his childhood. At first, it was just noise. The sky beyond his window was now pinkish blue. Heâd slept the afternoon away.
The smell of roasting meat