*****
Searching for coffee in his apartment had been an adventure the first time I stayed the night. Today, I just knew to brace myself for the labyrinth I had to pass through to get to the kitchen.
Gingerly rolling close to the edge of the bed, I sneaked out of the covers and stood. Peter was still sleeping. Phew.
I put his t-shirt on and left for downstairs. He had the best coffee machine in the world and I loved pulling the lever down. I had enough strength for this operation only in the mornings, when the need for caffeine was dire. Anything after the first cup and I needed his assistance.
I was humming, happily clutching the mug of fresh coffee, when I felt his hands around my waist.
“I think I'll get rid of this damn machine.”
“Nooo! Why?”
“It keeps stealing you away from me in the mornings.”
He leaned in and kissed me.
“Jealous of a lifeless thing, are we?” I asked, more cooing than actually talking.
“Yes. Anything that gets you out of my arms is my enemy.”
I giggled like a little girl, happy that he wanted me so much.
“I could say the same about that thing,” I said and pointed to his ringing phone. He mouthed “sorry” and picked up. Another Russian connection.
I waited patiently, not understanding a word of what he was saying, but enjoying the roughness of the language, until he was finished. When he turned to me, he looked upset.
“What is it, baby?”
“My father.”
“Did something happen?”
He nodded. “Another heart attack. He's not well, they're telling me.”
“Oh, my God. What are you going to do?”
He sat down, shrugging.
“I need to go and see him. I barely met him , and I wouldn't want to lose him before we had the chance to talk again.”
“I understand. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
My heart sank. I pursed my lips, trying not to be selfish, and turned to fiddle with the stove.
“Are you having breakfast, baby?” I asked, suddenly concerned with his habit of skipping meals.
“I don't really feel like eating.”
“Oh, you're having breakfast.”
He chuckled as I searched in the fridge for eggs and bacon.
“What are you making?”
“A proper breakfast. My mother worked in a diner and she taught me how to make it.”
“OK. I love your cooking no matter what you're making. You know that, right?”
“Stop sucking up to me, you're having breakfast. End of discussion.”
Too preoccupied with keeping my selfishness in check, I didn't see him standing up. Suddenly, everything went upside down as he lifted me on his shoulder.
“What are you doing? Quit playing, the eggs are burning!” I tried to wiggle my way out but it was no use. I resigned myself to being suspended, laughing my heart out.
“Why haven't you seen your father more when you came here?” I asked, after he put me down.
“He left the next day. You don't leave business unattended in Russia.”
“You were the boss back there?” I was impressed.
“I am the boss up here, too.”
“What?”
I suspected my mouth was hanging open, as he started laughing.
“Like ‘the boss’ boss?”
“Yes, baby. That's why I came to the U.S. To take over the business here.”
“And your father?” I asked, honestly curious.
“He wasn't feeling so well, so he decided to go back to Mother Russia. You know, like a dog.”
“Wait, wait! First, do you actually say ‘Mother Russia’? And second, like a dog?”
I was gesturing with the spatula, so interested in the things I was learning.
He just laughed.
“As in, going back to die home. I think dogs do that. My father said it like that. And no, we don't.”
I made a scrunchy face at him for making fun of me.
“Are you proud you're the Russian Mob’s first lady?” he asked, pulling me into his arms.
“I am?”
“You're my woman, aren't you? And I'm the boss of the Mob. ‘The boss boss,’ as you so eloquently put it.”
I punched him in the arm.
“Sit down and eat your food, mister! There's no boss in this house before breakfast.”
“You sure act like one,” he mumbled under his breath, sitting down.
“What's that?”
“Nothing.”
I couldn't keep a straight face. We both burst into laughter, him almost choking on a piece of crispy bacon.
“Are you alright?” I asked, filling a glass of water and handing it to him. He nodded.
“OK, then. Eat. Nothing can get you out of this. Also, I'm driving you tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“To the airport, silly. See? You can't think when you don't eat.”