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“It’s unlike you to ring me. Are you aware it’s two o’clock in the morning here in Cape Mery?” The Kaleido Stage owner sighed. “What can I do for you, Layla?”
“Sorry... I may have miscalculated the time zone.” The Greek could hear laughter in the background. Sweet baby laughter. “Just a second Kalos.” Her voice tone shifted completely. “Aaron, go with Uncle Misha and Auntie Anna just for a bit? Mama needs to talk with a friend now.” Then there was crying… A lot of crying, slowly dying away, possibly because she had gone to another chamber in the house.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah… He is just extra clingy these days. I can barely breath.” She laughed half-heartedly. “Anyways… The reason I’m calling is because I need a favor.” Beyond politeness. Unlike herself. He was used to her demanding, and it was never like that. Beside him, Sarah moved into her sleep.
“What do you need?”
“I know you’re very close to a premiere… But I need to borrow Yuri for this weekend… Mainly Sunday. He’ll be back on Tuesday.” She was pleading, and you don’t get that often when dealing with Layla Hamilton. “I promise. I just don’t promise he’ll be back into work on Monday because you know, 10 hours trip away.”
“Let me see…” It was when he glanced at the calendar that it hit him. “Fine. What do I tell him?”
“I don’t know… You need him to check on how things are going in the Paris unit? Just… Don’t remind him of the date yet. He’s probably deleted it from his mind.” She sighed. “Thank you, Kalos.” He heard a faint knocking on whatever door was on her side, and a loud ‘Mama’, followed by heartfelt weeps. “Great. He probably crawled his way over here; Would you believe it if I said I’m currently hiding from a 11-month-old inside a wardrobe?”
“I wish I could actually see that in person.” He cackled, running his fingers over Sarah’s long strawberry blonde hair. “Go see to your son. Tell him his dad will be home for Father’s Day.”
“Thanks again. You don’t know how much this means to them over here.”
“I can imagine.”
“Shh… Aaron, mama’s here, see? You don’t have to cry.” She held the little boy close. He was starting to lose his newborn features and becoming more childlike each day. He had recently begun trying to stand supported, which felt beyond cute, although he failed miserably every single time.
“He is quicker than we thought.” Anna came just as she held him. “Sorry… So? Is he coming back?” The twelve-year-old asked excitedly.
“Yes Anna, he is.” She smiled. “But once he tells us, you must pretend you had no idea whatsoever.”
“Really?” She squealed. “Did you hear that, Aaron? Daddy will be here for Father’s Day!” She took his little hands on hers.
“Papa?” He searched around for his father happily, only not to find him.
“Not today, baby boy. Tomorrow.” He pouted, tears filling his big eyes.
“Great job, Anna. Now he’s going to cry again.” Her brother rested his arm onto her head. “I guess we are doing it, then?”
“Yes!” She shook his arm away. “But…Hm… How should we do that? I mean… How did you do it when dad was here?” She stared at her older brother, eager for an answer.
But only silence came.
“I… Don’t recall.” He scratched the back of his head sadly. “I mean… I was four. I don’t know… I guess we went out for ice cream… And played? What did you do with your dad on Father’s Day, Layla?”
Father’s Day was one of the only joys in her life after her mother had passed. Only day in the year could she expect her father to come home earlier from work so that they could have dinner together. And then, she would give him anything she had done in school, and he would be glad.
At least, in her childhood. As the years passed, he dwelled deeper into work… Neglecting her increasingly.
“What shenanigans are the four of you up to?” Her mother-in-law entered the room, having just arrived home from the morning classes at the ballet studio. “And why are you inside the wardrobe? There are way better hiding places. I’ll tell you all about them later.” She laughed warmly, winking just like her son. Layla always thought he’d gotten that from his father… Guess she was wrong.
“Big brother is coming back tomorrow, meaning he’ll be here for Father’s Day! We’ll finally be able to celebrate it again!” Anna started happily. “But… Misha doesn’t really remember what you used to do… What do we do, mom? I mean… I want it to be nice… It’s like… My first Father’s Day as well.” The Russian ballerina approached her daughter, embracing her tightly.
“Don’t worry Anna. Anything you do will please your brother. I mean, you know he’s soft with that stuff.” She ran her fingers over the girl’s flaxen hair. “You do remember Misha telling us what happened when this little guy seated by himself for the first time ever… Right?”
It had been overly sweet. The Hamilton heiress had thought she’d seen all about his sensitive side as a father… Until that afternoon.
“We’ll be fine… You can go and shower, right, Aaron?” The baby giggled, resting against his father’s upper body, playing with the gemstone on his neck chain. “See? He says it’s fine. Go.” He shooed her with his hand.
A moment of peace, just for herself. That was rare, even with help from his family. Taking a bath without his crying was bliss. Pure bliss.
Until… It wasn’t. She quickly dried herself on the closest towel upon hearing her name being called over, rushing down the stairs, her long golden hair dripping all over the floor. Apparently, Mikhail had also just arrived from school and was already trying to reason with his brother... Which was not really happening.
“Fifteen minutes Yuri. I leave for fifteen minutes. What now?”
“I have no idea, you try to understand your husband because I can’t. I just got here and he’s like that and I can’t get to understand why.” He shook the older Russian, whose tears flowed uncontrollably. He wasn’t even trying to hold back. “Just say what’s wrong, stupid. Aaron is fine, he’s sitting there, playing with his toys… You don’t seem to be hurt… Who died?”
“Hold on for a second… Is he sitting? As in by himself?” She awed and the Russian American acrobat nodded, sniffing even harder, burying his face onto the closest thing available – his brother’s chest.
“THAT’S WHY YOU’RE CRYING?” He nodded once more. “You’re ruining my clothes with your snot, get a hold of yourself!” The eighteen-year-old blushed, awkwardly patting his older brother’s back, while their three-month-old was still playing unbothered, giggling at the old stuffed bear, Pyotr.
Mikhail shivered. “You would have thought someone had died as well. That idiot was crying out of nowhere, how would I know it was just because his kid was seating unsupported for the first time?”
“Eh? But the new production premieres on Wednesday.” Something was off. He wasn’t supposed to be back to France in a week. That was the deal. Not that he would complain. He missed his family back home.
“Well, you better be back here on Tuesday then, lad.” Mr. Kenneth reasoned, a hand on his back, shoving him out of Kalos’ office. “We’ve been handling this for years before you came along. Don’t act like you’re that important.”
“Ouch… I felt the burn, and it wasn’t even for me.” Cathy Taymor scoffed, elbowing his ribs. “We’ll be fine on our own. If the owner and one of the main sponsors say that you can go… I guess you should hear them.”
“Given I have been actively shoved out of there, I guess I don’t really have a choice.” He cleaned his glasses.
“Why are you still here? Don’t you have some packing to do?” The cherry-redhead insisted.
“Alright, alright. I’m going. What’s wrong with you all today?”
He made his way to the dormitories. He had gotten used to staying there. It was better than being in his old apartment all by himself. Even Leon Oswald had surrendered to it. And that guy, who was the plain definition of a lone wolf, was currently standing right in by his open door, probably returning from his morning training session, as he happened to occupy the neighboring room.
“So, you’re going back to Paris?” He took a sip out of his water bottle.
“No, no, I’m just packing because I like to.” He groaned.
“Oh, please, grow up. You should be happy about it.”
“And why would that be?”
The silver-haired acrobat deadpanned. “You’re way denser than I thought. Good luck figuring it out yourself.”
He checked through for the available flights. He could be there by Saturday afternoon, if he had any luck. There were still vacant seats at the late-night one. Or rather… Early morning. It was always dreadfully late.
Oh, right. He should tell them he is going to be back for the weekend. The former acrobat opened his laptop, after buying coffee in the airport. It should be around 10pm on their time-zone. After some ringing… Layla finally picked up.
“Hey princess.” He could faintly hear Aaron’s complaining in the background. “Bad time?”
“No… Sort of… He’s just tired but he can’t really get to sleep.” She turned on the video call. “Look who’s here Aaron!” The boy stopped whining immediately, trying to grab his father through the phone screen, his mom almost dropping it in the process. He still had trouble understanding that there were miles in between them.
“Hey little guy! You should be sleeping by now. Be nice to mama.” He leaned onto her chest, yawning soundly, still trying to reach him. “Yes, that’s right. You’re grumpy because you’re tired. Papa will be back tomorrow, then you can cuddle with me all you want.”
“Is that so?” She whispered, placing the device on a table nearby, rocking the boy asleep, his small eyelids already fluttering with effort. “That’s nice, isn’t it, Aaron? If you sleep, when you wake up, it will be closer to the time Papa will be around.” Soon, he was soundly slumbering.
“I’ve been practically sent away.” He whined.
“Oh. Are you upset you’re coming home?” She teased him playfully, placing their son on his cot.
“That’s not it. It was just… Unexpected. I’ll be catching the late plane… I should arrive in Paris around 8pm… If the weather helps. You know how it goes.” He frowned, taking a sip of his coffee.
If there was something he didn’t miss from France was the weather. It could always rain out of nowhere, making landing impossible at Charles De Gaulle International Airport. Why was she giggling? “What’s so funny?”
“You sound like an old man, complaining about the weather. Have a safe journey. See you tomorrow.” She yawned.
“Yeah. Good night, princess.”
He went through some documents before check-in began. If he was supposed to go home when they wanted, he would not work while he was there. That lasted about two hours. Some things would never change – and the way he hated bureaucratic work was one of them. The airport ceiling seemed more important than the budgets and papers he was supposed to read.
He never really wanted to be on that side of the job. As much as they all said he was extremely talented in the management and producing business when he put himself into it, he’d rather be back onstage, could he choose.
He always liked to get earlier to the departure gates. As a teenager, he had gotten used to watching over people, to learn about their behavior- their gestures, expressions, all of it. If he wanted to get his revenge, he should be able to understand the subtleties of human relationships… He needed that if he wanted to set things into motion in the most natural way possible.
Alas, he had succeeded… and that habit lingered, becoming almost innate. His gaze fell into two boys, probably brothers. The younger one sat on top of the luggage, and the older one dragged him away with it, to their caretaker’s - an old lady, probably their grandmother - dismay.
He used to do the same with Mikhail. Not with the luggage, of course – they almost never traveled. But with a small gardening cart they had at home. His parents (mainly his mom) would be worried sick that he could fall and hurt himself… So, they used to do it primarily while they were working.
One day… His father came home earlier and caught them at it. More specifically, he kind of rescued him from falling as he tripped onto a rock on the pavement. He thought he’d be scolded about it, but his old man just laughed and told him to be more careful with it.
“So… You won’t forbid us?”
“No… The choice is yours.” The acrobat smiled, placing both boys on his lap. “But you must understand that choices come with responsibility. If you ever fall, it’s on you. Keep that in mind. We live by our choices. So, we must try to choose wisely. That being said - be careful.”
“Right.” He nodded.
He was brought back from his thoughts when the older child tripped, and the luggage turned on its side, the younger one almost falling too… If it wasn’t for him. His body just acted on his own with these situations. Layla used to call him a showoff, whenever he ‘saved’ other performers from falling or whatever else.
It had been the same with Sora, on her first day ever on stage… When she performed out of the blue as that bunny on Romeo and Juliet.
“Why did you help that girl? She shouldn’t be on the stage. I don’t know what her relationship with Kalos is… But her being up there was beyond unfair.” The blonde stated, clearly unpleased.
“So, I should have let her fall and hurt herself because of that? And ruin the show? How mature would that be?” She had blushed at his assumption.
“Right, Prince Charming.” She muttered, almost to herself.
“What was that?”
“Oh, you stop it. You know that’s what they all call you, right?” She tried to pretend she didn’t care… But her body language said otherwise; he didn’t have to stare straight at her to know.
“Oh… Is it? No, not really… Does that trouble you… Princess?” He taunted. “I’d do the same if it were you, you know it.”
“Forget about it and focus on the play. Can’t have more mistakes after that poor performance of hers.”
“Sir, I am so sorry for them! I kept telling them to be careful, but you don’t really listen, now, do you?” Their grandmother rushed to the boys’ side. No scratches, thank God. And no broken luggage wheels. “Come on, you two. Say thanks for the mister and apologize for making him leave his own luggage to save you two.”
“Sorry mister.” Both boys hid behind their grandmother’s legs.
“And?” The older woman completed, sternly.
“And thanks for helping us. How did you do that? You were so fast!” They asked in unison. “Like a superhero! Are you a superhero? Can you fly?”
“Whoa. Calm down you two. It was nothing. I used to work with… Not letting people fall. But I’m not a superhero… Nor can I fly.” Well… He still could… In theory.
Nah, he had more people depending on him now. The “Swan Lake Odette audition” had been his own Swan Song. At least, it was a good one. He had no regrets.
“I thought I’d heard you say Kalos didn’t want you to perform anymore.” She had asked him, as he helped her up from the cushioned floor of her basement training room.
“Well… Someone has to be your partner if you do want to challenge Sora. Lucky for you, I already know the routine.” And can keep up with her every single whine and desire unscathed. Mostly, at least.
“Wait. Will it be safe for you?” She stared at him seriously. Oh, right. She had learned about it in a sort of terrifying way.
“Wow. You’ve never cared about my safety before. I’m touched.” He teased.
“I never knew you had hemophilia before, stupid.” She playfully punched his chest.
“I don’t have to do much. Don’t worry. Shall we, then?” He kissed the back of her hand.
No. He had one regret. That stupid top of his attire.
“Yuri… What’s taking you so long to dress?”
“That’s it. I’m going without this top. Your minions have shrunken it.”
“My… Minions?” He glared at Julie and Charlotte.
“Let them wash your attire, what’s the worst that can happen?” He ironized. “Do you two still hold that much of grudge against me?”
“It’s not that bad. Think of it as a shoulder harness. Since we’ve been training only one arm… You end up straining one side more than the other. We match.” Well… At least she tried. And Kate had indeed used that argument… Together with: ‘So, you’re in this too. You know… Lately, every night, before I lay my head on my pillow, I wonder which one of you will get hurt the next day – Sora, with Leon’s training; Layla, doing the same with a wounded shoulder… And now you. If anyone else joins, tell Kalos I quit.’
“Cut it. We would match either way. I’m just glad this is a ‘private’ audition.”
“Wait… Are you blushing?” She snorted.
“You would be too. Look at Oswald’s outfit and look at mine.” He pinched his nose. “This is ridiculous. I’ll change.”
“Stop it, there is no time. Think of it as me narrowing the competition. No girls will come after a Prince Charming who likes boys.” She pecked his cheek, before they entered the illuminated part of the stage. “Get a hold of yourself.”
“Unbelievable, Layla. Let’s get this over with.”
So much had happened ever since then. She had returned to Broadway… And ran away during the Legend of Phoenix production.
A part of him felt guilty for not being the one after her, but Sora and May. But a part of him knew that she had needed to ‘rebel’ like that for herself. The best changes of heart came in times as such. And it was good to know she had more friends who cared about her then.
She did return different. More… Human-like. Less like the unbreakable, flawless goddess people had always perceived her to be. He was glad, in a way. They could see her for what she really was.
Then, came Kate and Jerry’s marriage, probably, if his math had been right, also known as the night things did get out of hand. The smell of alcohol often reminded him of his grandfather's, hence why he never overdid it. The opposite of what people would expect of the only Russian male in the party. Damned be Cathy Taymor, the bartenders and Long Island Iced Teas.
“Are you alive? Hello? We have a plane to New York in an hour.” He could barely make her words through the pounding ache in his head. Why was that crazy scriptwriter screaming nonsense on his mind? He hadn’t any plane to catch. He pulled the comforter over his head, burying his face onto Layla’s golden hair. But the redhead didn’t stop talking. Just like a parrot. A very, very, annoying one.
“Stop yelling, Baba Yaga.” He could feel her chuckling in his embrace.
“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME? That’s it. You two better be decent beneath these covers. I’ll count to three. One… Two…”
“Fine. I’ll be out in ten.” She peeked her head up.
“You’re not decent… Are you?”
“Do bed sheet count as clothing, Taymor?” He retorted as mischievously as migraine would allow. He could see her go red, through his squinted eyes. “I thought not.”
“I’ll be outside. And you’ve just lost two minutes out of your ten, young lady.” She banged on the door angrily.
“Wasn’t your flight sometime around 6pm?”
“Yep.” She answered from the suite’s bathroom.
He glanced at his wristwatch – 5:10pm.
“Oh… well. I guess it’s a new record.”
On the next day, of course Kalos would not let that go. Turns out he was at fault too, being the one who had taken them to his apartment. ‘And don’t come with – I wasn’t that smashed. I had to drag you inside your house and place you in your bed. I tried to take her to her house, but it turns out you two are surprisingly clingy when you’re drunk. That being said… Never again.’
Overworked, they kept in touch through phone/video calls for a while. Until she had stopped answering. Next thing he’d known, by the newspaper… Was that she’d take a hiatus from performing. Weeks later, he found out why.
He’d promised her things would be fine… But he didn’t really think he believed that himself. Yet, he’d do everything in his current power to ensure that. Not surprisingly, spilling the beans on her father had been the worst part of it. Next step… Convincing the boss into allowing him back into France for a while.
“That explains why Kevin Hamilton has been avoiding every single meeting you were at.” The Greek man sighed. “Fine. You can go. And, after your child is born… Come back as soon as possible.”
So came Paris… and forcefully reconnecting with his estranged family, after so long. Not that it had been bad, after all, he did miss them. But it brought back things that should have been... Cooked before they came up. He wasn't ready to let her know about all his past. His abusive grandfather, his running away from home.
“Do you ever regret it?”
“What?”
“This…Us.” It came out more painfully than he had intended. “I mean… After everything… I do think you both deserved better than… Me and all our problems at home. And I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you said you do.”
“I’ll pretend you never said that to the person who was expelled home by her own father, who cared more about his business and status than about his own daughter and grandson.” She cupped his head on her hands. “For the record… I feel more at home here than I ever felt in the Hamilton estate. Sure… You have your share of flaws… But all you do is because you do care about one another. Huh? Are you crying?”
“What? No… That’s just my dry eyes.” He faked, embracing her from behind, face buried onto her back, hands gently caressing her belly, their unborn son stirring under his touch. “Just so you know…That was probably the kindest thing anyone has ever told me.”
“Not bad for a pampered, rich girl, huh?” She put her hands over his. “My turn to ask an embarrassing question: when did you stop seeing me as just one of the rich little girls you hated so much?”
“Who told… Mom, of course.” He sighed. “Our first Circus Festival. When you told me you were going to change the Golden Phoenix and grab the bar at the end. That showed me you weren’t just a pretty face who relied on everyone else. You fought for what you wanted.”
“That early? You’re far too easy to please.”
“Am I? Lucky you, then. I’m curious… What about you?” It was her time to blush.
“Our first Circus Festival…When you said you’d sleep on the floor because there weren’t two single beds on the room. Don’t look at me like that. It was unexpected. And you even took the time to build a pillow wall between us, when I insisted that we should share the double bed. It was very considerate… and kind of cute.”
“Yet, she says I’m the easy one. Can you believe your mom, baby boy?”
“Speaking of him, you could do that thing. He likes it too.”
“Which thing?” She placed his hands under her belly. Oh, that thing.
“You know it. When you lift his weight just for a bit… Yeah, just like that.” She exhaled tiredly, leaning her back fully onto him. “You have no idea how good this feels.”
He checked the flight monitor – they’d be landing in less than an hour.
He hardly ever slept while travelling. His father used to say he had a loud mind. He wasn’t wrong. It was easy for him to spend hours simply thinking. Mikhail was completely the opposite. He had to act, otherwise he couldn’t make his point known.
Yuri was surprised to see the said brother waiting for him at the airport, just by the gate. So surprised he almost ignored him, mistaking his “Doppelganger” for an illusion.
“Hey, idiot! Have you forgotten your own brother? You can go home by taxi then. Good luck with that.” He followed him along.
“Well… That was the initial plan… What’s changed since you’re here?”
“I can drive now, asshole.” He shook the car keys onto the eldest’s face. “Mom asked me to pick you up, and kind as I am, I accepted. But now, I’m starting to regret that.”
Oh, right. He is eighteen now. He can drive. His little (not so little, Mikhail topped his height by seven inches) hyperactive brother was driving him home. He wasn’t used to being driven by anyone else.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you crying already?” He started the engine.
“No, just my dry eyes.”
“Yeah, right.” The youngest laughed. “Does that mean you are happy I came to pick you up?”
“Eyes on the road, Mikhail. I’d very much like to get home alive.” He answered. Truth was, he couldn’t be prouder.
Oh… What was that? They’d built a park next to their grandmother’s house. One just like the one in Cape Mery, close to their childhood home. He wondered if Mikhail even remembered that dad would play with them there, until they were so tired that he had to carry them both home in his arms. He would pretend to be asleep just to be carried. But his father probably knew that.
“Mom said you’d like that place. We could come by tomorrow. How long are you staying for this time?”
“Not as much as I’d like.” He snorted. “By the way… You are behaving weirdly nicely. What’s up?”
“Excuse me? I am nice.” He blushed a little. “And I might have missed you a bit. Just a bit.”
“So did I.” He ruffled his brother’s hair, when they stopped at a red light. “You drive surprisingly well. Dad would be proud. It’s a shame he couldn’t get to teach either of us.”
“You think?” He gripped the steering wheel somewhat tightly.
“I’m sure of it.”
“I was beginning to forget him… His voice… His face… His warmth… And I hated it.” He accelerated. “But then, you came back… And sort of brought him back along. And it was good in the end. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Misha. Me too.” They finally parked in front of their grandmother’s house.
Upon opening the front door, he was greeted by his son’s small hands and almost toothless smile, saved by his two bottom front teeth. “Paaapa! Up, Up!” He pleaded, wriggling his arms.
“Hey buddy! Good evening.” He nuzzled the boy’s head. “I’m home.”
“What took you so long?” His sister frowned. “Mom was considering going after you both.”
“Mikhail drives like an old lady.” He stuck his tongue out, winking playfully.
“TWO-FACED ASSHOLE. YOU JUST SAID I DRIVE WELL. I was following the traffic rules. At least one of us must, right? I’m still on probation, jerk.”
“Language, Mikhail! I can’t have Aaron learning any more bad words from you. Idiot and stupid are enough… He isn’t even one year-old, for god’s sake.”
“Mama!” The little boy flapped his hands excitedly. “Papa home!” He giggled, motioning for her to approach.
“Yes, I can see that. Are you happy?” She queried, snuggling both.
“Happy!” He yawned, burying his face onto his father’s chest, rubbing his blue eyes. “Papa, nap nap?”
“Not so fast. Come here, let him shower, and then you two can sleep. I bet he didn’t either.” She took the boy from his arms.
“What gave it away?”
“I know you and your mind. Go. The bathroom is all yours. And don’t you dare lay on the bed before that.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean it.”
The steaming hot water was refreshing. Pretty much all his body needed after a 10-hour flight. For a moment, he was glad he’d had dinner on the airplane. All he wanted was his bed.
The sound of little hands patting on the door brought him back to reality. Aaron hadn’t learned how to knock yet, it seemed. “Papa’s coming.” He snorted, opening the door and scooping the child from the floor. “Come here.”
She breathed laboriously, her back leaning against his torso. She let go of one of his arms, running a hand over her face, the other still holding his other forearm in a vicious grip. “I can’t do this anymore.” She huffed. He stared worriedly at his mom. But she was calm. She was… Smiling?
“Of course you can.” She took the blonde’s free hand. “One more push and he’ll be here. You managed to get one shoulder free on the last one. I promise.” She nodded weakly, the hand his mother had previously had in hers gripping his shoulder as a new contraction flared up.
Next thing they knew, a wailing newborn was placed onto her chest. “Holy heavens… We finally meet, huh? I’m your mom.” She cooed at him, body still shaky.
His voice faltered. He was so tiny, nevertheless, perfect. His petite hand grabbed his father’s small finger, opening his blue eyes, bound to be just like his mother’s. “This softie here is your papa… He probably broke a thousand traffic rules to be with us, you little troublemaker. But you knew that already, didn’t you… Aaron?”
His father’s name… It was fitting. But a part of him wondered whether that was really alright. “Are you sure about that?” She assented, brushing away his tears, adjusting herself into his embrace, his mother helping her to feed him for the first time. The Russian woman laughed at him for looking away while the boy latched. “Really, Yuri? As if you’d never seen that before.”
“It’s completely different, mom!” Layla winced, burying her face on his chest. “Is that normal?”
“Totally. That might feel a little uncomfortable for her for a while until her womb recovers. Right now, it’s worse because she’s passing the afterbirth.” The doctor explained, massaging her abdomen. “There. Now it’s all done.”
Time was going way too fast. Last time, he still fit on one of his forearms. He looked more like a kid than the fragile newborn from months ago. God, he could even look at you quizzically now. The acrobat stared at his wife. Then, at their bed. Such a big bed. He couldn’t possibly put their little boy to sleep on his crib now, a room away, could he? “That’s it, he’s sleeping with us tonight.”
“Oh, who would have thought otherwise?” She faked surprise, covering them with the blankets. She had even put his pillow in between them. Not that he’d use it, as he was snuggled tightly against his father’s chest. “Unbelievable. I’m going to record that and stuff it into a teddy bear.”
“Hmm?” He patted the boys back dotingly.
“A minute of your heartbeat and breathing and he’s soundly asleep. That’s so unfair.”
“Jealous much?” He yawned. No wonder Aaron had gotten used to it; he’d been the one rocking him asleep during his first month of life because she had been deadly afraid of dropping him or falling with him.
Ironically, her body had taken a while to readjust its center of gravity after his birth, so she had taken a couple of falls here and there. So, she’d decided to only hold him while supported or seated… Other transferences were up to him, his mom or his grandma.
“A bit…” She answered, defeatedly. “Although I know that one’s on me.” She gazed sadly, running her fingers through the boy’s flaxen hair.
“You did your best.” He pulled her close, softly rubbing his cheek on the crown of her head. “Cut the long face.”
“You’re not even looking. You’ve got your eyes closed.”
“Bold of you to assume I must. I know you.” He yawned once again, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good night.”
“Good night, silly.”
Yuri Killian didn’t know how long he had slept, but he didn’t want to open his eyes just yet. Five minutes more. Tiny hands patted his forehead and pulled at his cheeks. “Paaaaapa, wakey!”
Just five more minutes. Was that too much to ask?
He tried to roll on his side, to drop the boy onto the mattress… But he was pinned down by something much heavier than the eleven-month-old sitting onto his back. And giggling followed. He would never slip up his little sister’s voice.
“You guys are too gentle with him.” What was Mikhail doing up so early in the morning? He hated to be awoken early as much as himself. “Let a pro show you how this is done.” He could hear the teenager cracking his knuckles.
Now, Anna and Aaron on top of his back were one thing. His 1,90-meter-tall brother was another. “Mikhail, don’t you dare.” He muttered.
He did dare. And once more, laughter followed.
“Come on! You three are crushing me. A little help here? I can hear you, Layla.” He snapped his eyes open, to meet her azure ones. “You’re with them, aren’t you? Traitor.”
“Maybe...” Her chin rested on her arms; a puerile grin plastered on her face. “That’s what you get from pretending you were still asleep.”
“As a matter of fact, I was asleep. Why?” He whined, his son now squishing his face against the pillows, laying totally onto his head and grabbing his nose, which never failed to lead him into a sneezing fit.
“Oh… Why was that again...?” She pretended to think.
“Pa’s day!” Aaron chanted happily.
Oh. OH. He had never felt so stupid in his whole life. That’s how he and Mikhail used to wake his own father up on Father’s Day. Poor old man. But, again, they had been four and nine by then. At least one of them hadn’t forgotten about it.
Ever since he’d passed… They never once had celebrated it. It would be a day like any other… No. It had become a pretty gloomy occasion. They’d stay home and hide from all the propaganda regarding it, trying to spare their sister. It was easier, of course, when she didn’t understand it. But as she got older… Well, mom and Mikhail must have suffered a bit, he wouldn’t know, as he’d already left their house.
“Alright.” That was his mom’s voice. “Now that the penny has finally dropped, I guess you trio of gremlins can let him go. He can’t have that breakfast you so carefully prepared otherwise.”
“Come again?” He rolled into sitting as soon as they unassembled from their ‘formation’. His mom had a tray with pancakes filled with fruit jam, tea and cherry kasha. Probably one of the only things they’d kept fully Russian on their household was their breakfast.
“Misha made the jam himself yesterday! And it’s good, we tried it! We thought he’d ruined it, because he doubled the sugar. Aaron and I made pancakes. Mom and Ms. Layla made the Kasha, of course.” Anna boasted, holding Aaron on her lap. “Grandma had to work… But she helped Misha. Is it good?”
He nodded, still speechless. All those years suppressing that holiday. If love had a taste… He wondered if that would be it. Which made him wonder if he deserved it. There he went, crying again.
“Papa sad?” Aaron worriedly pulled the sleeve of his pajamas. Of course, he had yet to learn the difference between happy and sad tears.
“No, he’s very happy. He is just weird like that.” Mikhail mocked, placing an arm over his shoulders. “Sooo… Wanna go to the park later? We could do a picnic, just like we used to when… Well, you know.”
“Yeah… Sure.” He smiled. “But I drive.”
“I hate you.”
“Okay, okay, that’s as high as you go for his first time. I know you are listening.” Her worried hands stopped their swing. “Yuri!”
“Layla, come on. We haven’t moved an inch! I hope you do realize how ridiculous this sounds coming from you. He’s having fun, right, baby boy?” The child clapped his hands happily, chanting ‘up, up’.
“He shouldn’t even be on a grown-up swing in the first place.” She took the giggling boy from his father’s arms.
“He was on my lap, wearing the helmet you so insisted he should. You’ve armored the kid like he was going to war, not a park!” He reasoned.
“Yuri, he can’t even walk yet! What if another child accidentally hurt him? A park is war for an eleven-month-old.” She sat on the swing beside his own. “What’s with that face?”
“I should have recorded that. You sounded just like my mom.” He rose from his sitting spot, positioning himself just behind them, moving their swing slightly.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Would baby boy be allowed to swing if it was with you? Hypothetically, of course…”
“Maybe.” She challenged him.
“Well…A maybe is better than a no.” He pulled their swing back. “Heard that, little guy? Mama was just jealous, in the end.”
“Yuri, for god’s sake! You are so dead when we get home! Aaron, hold on to mama’s dress.” She clung to the boy for her dear life, supporting his head, while he simply cheered. Such a drama queen. They weren’t even that high.
“Nah, no, I don’t think I am.” He laughed, stopping the swing. “And thanks, by the way.”
“For?”
“Bringing me home to this. I know you probably pulled out some strings here and there. And for this little guy… Otherwise… We wouldn’t have a Father’s Day to celebrate.” He said, cuddling them from behind.