Losers: Part II

We spent our last night in the cabin watching movies on the couch. Manson and Jason both voted for a horror film, Vincent wanted comedy, and Lucas just wanted beer. My vote decided the matter, and we settled on a marathon of the campiest 80s horror films they could possibly think of.

“We’ll start with Sleepaway Camp,” Jason said. “Then Killer Klowns from Outer Space.”

“Then Elvira: Mistress of the Dark,” Manson said.

“Pay attention, Jess. This is going to be Manson’s very roundabout way of convincing you to dress as Elvira for Halloween,” Vincent said, ducking out of the way before Manson could smack him.

“Hey, Elvira is a beautiful, iconic lady,” Manson said. “She also happens to have amazing tits, which is irrelevant to my appreciation of her.”

“Right, right, we’ll check in with your dick halfway through the movie and see how irrelevant it is,” Lucas said. Jason had returned from the kitchen with beer for both of them, and Lucas dragged him onto his lap instead of letting him take a seat on the couch.

“Need a cuddle buddy so you won’t be scared?” Jason said, as Lucas got comfortable and cracked open his beer, then popped open Jason’s too.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Lucas said dryly. “I need someone to squeeze really fucking tight at the scary parts.”

He proceeded to give Jason a hug tight enough to squeeze all the air out of his lungs. Jason wheezed, “Damn, you are scary to cuddle with.”

Manson had claimed me as his cuddle buddy already, the two of us curled up at the corner of the big sectional couch. Even hours later, the impressions of the rope he’d been bound with remained on his skin. My finger traced the reddened imprints as I snuggled against him, saying softly, “These marks look so sexy on you.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” he said, shivering when I kissed his chest.

As much as I’d learned over these past few weeks, watching Manson with Vincent today had opened my eyes even more. It was intimidating to be trusted with someone’s well-being; their mental health, their feelings, their physical safety. Especially when that person already had so much to fear, for so many reasons. It was like Manson went to war against himself, while Vincent and I handed him the weapons to fight.

He was relaxed now, the most relaxed I’d seen him since his father showed up at the house. The difference could be physically felt as I laid against him, listening to the beat of his heart, steady and slow. He’d softened, as if the tension he’d been carrying had finally released its hold. He sipped a whiskey on the rocks as we watched hapless teens fall victim to killer alien clowns, all five of us laughing at the ridiculous gore and slimy fake blood.

It was a night to be savored, our last day of peace and isolation before we returned to Wickeston tomorrow. Going back home meant facing reality again: my mom and her judgment, my ex-friends and their vitriol, Alex McAllister and his endless grudge against the boys. And…Reagan Reed.

Manson had hoped his father would leave town again while we were gone. Pessimism usually wasn’t my instinct, but something told me Reagan wasn’t going to leave so easily.

He’d still be there. Waiting, watching, but for what exactly, I didn’t know.

Manson was clearly tipsy by the time we started watching Elvira, and his drunken running commentary throughout the movie had me laughing until my stomach hurt. Even as the hour grew later and my eyes became heavy, I didn’t want to go to sleep…not yet. I didn’t want the night to end.

Somehow, amid the thrills and excitement of the dirty games we played, I’d become comfortable. When I was with them, I didn’t have to think about anyone’s disapproval. I didn’t have to care what went on outside our walls.

They’d become my haven.

***

We were awake bright and early Monday morning. We packed everything into the vehicles, cleaned the cabin, then ensured all the doors and windows were locked up before we got on the road.

Just like that, vacation was at an end.

It was a melancholy feeling to go back to reality. Thoughts of what I’d need to get done at work that week crowded my head, my to-do list already trying to demand my attention. But stressing about work wasn’t my only distraction.

I was about to meet Vincent’s parents for the first time.

The Volkov family had taken care of Jojo and Haribo over the weekend. When Vincent first mentioned that we’d be going by the house to pick the dogs up, I hadn’t thought much of it. He’d brought it up so casually that it barely registered in my brain.

Then midway through the drive, a call from his mom came through. He talked to her with a massive smile on his face, assuring her that the drive was going well and that we’d be there in “only a couple hours.”

That certainly brought the nerves crashing over me like a tsunami.

Holy shit.

I was meeting his parents. Oh God, what if they hated me? What if they disapproved? I hadn’t worn any makeup all weekend and today was no different, but suddenly I was rummaging in my purse for mascara, concealer — anything I could do to try to make a better impression.

In typical fashion, Vincent noticed exactly what I was doing.

“Hey, hey, don’t stress yourself out,” he said. He caught my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “My mom is really excited to meet you. I tried to tell her not to, but she’s cooking an early dinner for us.”

“You’re going to love Vera’s cooking,” Jason said. “Vincent’s a good cook, but his mom blows him out of the water.” Vincent nodded along in agreement.

It had been a few years since I’d bothered to meet the family of anyone I’d dated. Getting people’s families involved, including my own, made things complicated and far too serious. Dating was more comfortable when it stayed casual. It was easier to walk away from.

Except in this case, as bad as my nerves were, I did feel excited. If Vincent’s mom was eager to meet me, then that meant she’d heard about me. What on earth had he told her? What must she think of me? Vincent was such an easy-going person, so I could only hope his family was the same. Knowing how hard it was to please my own mother, my stomach twisted up into knots imagining the judgment Vera Volkov could mete out against me.

As we got closer to the house, I was squeezing Vincent’s hand like a vice. The Volkovs lived on the outskirts of Wickeston, down a meandering country road overshadowed by trees. We pulled on to a narrow dirt driveway, with a carved wooden sign fixed to a post next to it. Home Sweet Home, it read.

The house sat at the end of the winding driveway, surrounded by trees. It looked as if it had originally been a barn, but features had been added to convert it to a house. Numerous windchimes hung from the large front porch, tinkling in the breeze. Potted plants and bunches of drying flowers dangled along the porch railing. Chickens pecked for bugs beside the house, lifting their heads curiously as the cars drove up.

We parked, everyone groaning tiredly as we got out and finally had a chance to stretch our legs. Suddenly, the front door burst open and two little girls sprinted outside, squealing as they ran, with Jojo and Haribo hot on their heels. A younger girl, only four or five years of age, ran after them barefoot, her brown hair flying wildly around her face as she tried to keep up.

“Oh no, it’s the gremlins!” Vincent shouted. The two older girls — who I suspected were twins — flung themselves at him, giggling, as they hugged him. The youngest girl ran straight for Jason, who swept her up and spun her around.

“I caught a bug today, Vince!” she said, bouncing excitedly in Jason’s arms. The other two climbed Vincent like a tree, one settling in each arm. One of them immediately went to work forming a braid in his hair, while the other smiled at me shyly.

“Oh, yeah?” Vincent said. “Did it put up a good fight?”

“No!” the littlest girl exclaimed. “We don’t fight the bugs, silly. They’re friends.” She waved at Manson and Lucas excitedly. “Hi, Uncle Manson! Hi, Uncle Luc!” She held out her arms and Lucas took her, but she quickly insisted, “Shoulders, please!”

Lucas obliged, and Manson helped the little girl get her balance on his shoulders.

“Did you take good care of Jojo this weekend, Miss Kristy?” Manson said, and she nodded.

“Yes! We dug in the yard and she helped me catch bugs,” she said, swinging her legs so they tapped against Lucas’s chest. “She ate some of my candy too, even though she’s not supposed to.”

“Girls, this is Jessica,” Vincent said, motioning toward me as he set the twins down. They wore matching yellow dresses, their skirts stained and their shoes muddy. They looked at me with wide green eyes, the same color as their brother’s.

“Hi,” I said, crouching down to their level to offer my hand. They each gave me a quick, giggling handshake. “What are your names?”

“Anna,” said one.

“Franchesca,” said the other.

“And I’m Kristina!” The littlest girl waved her arms at me from her perch on Lucas’s back. “You look like my Barbie. Are you…are you…” She had to pause her rapid words to breathe, and I stifled a laugh. “Are you my brother’s lover?”

“Oh my god.” I looked up at Vincent. “How does she know that word?”

“Our parents are very open people,” he said, trying to restrain a smile as he poked the giggling girl. “Don’t be a Nosy-Nancy, Kristy. Now where’s that bug you caught?”

“In my room!” She braced her hands against the sides of Lucas’s head, turning his face toward the house. “Go, go! Let’s tell Mama you’re here!”

“Hold on tight,” Lucas said. She squealed with excitement as he jogged toward the house, Jojo bouncing along behind him. Haribo was already glued to Jason’s side and followed him as we made our way in.

Another girl had appeared on the porch, smiling at us as we approached. She looked to be around fourteen years old, tall and slim like her brother, with long brown hair.

“This is my oldest sister, Mary,” Vincent said. Mary politely shook my hand, greeting me in a soft voice barely loud enough to hear.

“I go to school with your sister,” she said. “Stephanie, right?”

“Yeah! Are you two friends?” I honestly didn’t know who my sister’s friends were, but she was so much like me I could only assume she was a social butterfly too.

Mary’s face tightened up for a moment before she smiled again and said, “Oh, um…no…but I’ve seen her around.”

“Come on, come on, we’re gonna let the cold out,” Lucas said as he held open the front door. Kristy was tapping her palms on his head like it was a drum, but he didn’t seem to mind.

The house’s interior was an eclectic mix of decor. Polished wood furniture sat beside plush velvet chairs and a couch, which was occupied by an older man with long gray hair. Paintings covered the walls, some clearly done by the children but framed nevertheless. The windows didn’t match, some of them stained glass, some round, some square. The house smelled like spices with a faint hint of rose, and a fire crackled in a wood-burning stove in the corner.

The man rose from the couch, setting aside the worn sci-fi paperback he’d been reading.

“Welcome home, boys,” he said, hugging each of them before he got to me. His resemblance to Vincent was undeniable, especially in the smile he gave me as he took my hand in greeting.

“You must be Jessica Martin,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I’m Stephan Volkov. Any partner of our boys is family here, so make yourself at home.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Volkov.”

“Please, call me Stephan,” he said, and I smiled gratefully, right as a woman emerged from the kitchen.

There was a beaming smile on her face as she wiped her hands on her apron. She wrapped her arms around Vincent, leaving a dusting of flour on his shirt.

“Oh, my boy,” she murmured. Her voice was as warm, her long gray-streaked hair pinned up into a bun. “So good to have you home.” She released him from her embrace and hugged Jason immediately after, clutching Manson’s hand as if she couldn’t wait to greet him too.

“You didn’t have to go to all the trouble to cook, Ma,” Vincent said.

“I’m always going to feed my children,” she said, waving her hand as if to brush away his concerns. “It’s hardly any trouble.”

“What am I helping with, Mama?” Lucas said as he hugged her. “You get that apron off and give it over. I’m sure you’ve been on your feet enough.”

“You don’t need to do a thing, Lucas,” she said, patting his cheek affectionately. “I just need a moment to meet Miss Jessica.” She turned to me, with the kind of smile that carried all the warmth and comfort of coming home after a long day. “My goodness. Well, Vincent told me you were beautiful but you really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” She embraced me, surrounding me with the aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, and patchouli. “I’m Vera. It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Jessica.”

“I’m so glad to meet you,” I said. My nerves had finally calmed down, soothed by how welcoming they all were. “I’d be happy to help with whatever you need.”

“No need, dear, no need,” Vera said. “Everything is almost ready.”

“Don’t go tiring your arms out mashing those potatoes. That’s my job,” Lucas said, poking his head out of the kitchen. He’d slipped in there while we were distracted, and was now wearing a hand-made apron with a pattern of classic cars on the fabric. The twins dragged Jason out the back door, insisting that he play with them, and Manson had already been roped into a conversation about moonshine with Stephan.

As Vera returned to finishing up the meal, Vincent took my hand. “I’ll show you around.” He led me through the living room, pointing to the various paintings and craft projects scattered around and telling me which sister made which. “I told Ma she didn’t have to keep all my old shit, but she’s a bit sentimental.” He opened the small door for the storage room under the stairs, and I gasped at the stacks of painted canvases within.

“Those are all yours?” I exclaimed.

“And Mary’s,” he said. “She’s a much better painter than me.”

“Am not,” Mary said, although she blushed at the praise.

“She’s too modest,” Vincent said, closing the storage room again. “Do you mind if I show Jess the old room, Mary? Promise we won’t be too long.”

She nodded, and Vincent led me up the narrow stairway. Some of the stairs were a little crooked, and the railing was a long tree limb that still had the bark attached. Little figures and designs had been carved into the wood, and Vince pointed them out to me as we went.

“My dad did the carving here,” he said. “He used to be a carpenter when he was younger, before his arthritis got too bad. He made all that furniture downstairs himself.”

At the top of the stairs, at the end of a narrow hallway, a ladder led up to the attic. The rails were wrapped in sparkle lights and the rungs were decorated with fake flowers.

“Mary has really prettied things up since I last lived here,” Vincent said. “The room wasn’t quite this cool when it was mine.”

He reached the top of the ladder first, then extended his hand for me. The attic was smaller than the one Vincent occupied now, but it felt cozy instead of cramped. Pale green and purple tapestries covered the walls, with more twinkle lights along the ceiling and around the tall narrow window. The bed was covered with a mishmash of blankets and pillows in varying colors and patterns.

Despite it being his younger sister’s room, the space still felt familiar.

“Mary must really take after you,” I said, noticing the shelves of paints, brushes, and piled canvases. There were drawers of beads, plastic boxes full of charms, craft supplies stored on every available shelf. It was a treasure trove of interesting things to discover.

“The urge to create is really strong in the Volkov family,” he said. He led me to the window seat, which was too small for the both of us. But he sat and then pulled me onto his lap. We could see down into the backyard, where Jason and the twins were playing ball with Bo and Jojo. “Growing up, our parents were always making things. Whether it was building their own furniture or growing their own food. They did everything they could to give us a happy childhood. We didn’t have much; money was tight, especially with so many kids. But they made it work. They didn’t hesitate to take in Jason after his parents kicked him out, either. It wasn’t even a question to them. I owe them a lot.” His expression grew somber for a moment. “That’s why I was selling pills in high school. Figured it was the only way I could really try to help, it was quick money. I tried to keep it quiet, but it really broke my mom’s heart when I got in trouble.”

“You got in trouble?” I said. “I heard the rumor you were arrested, but you were back in school so fast, I didn’t think it was true.”

“It was true,” he said with a grimace. “I was a terribly naughty boy and they had to arrest me for the good of society. The school decided not to press charges as long as I did their little ‘scared straight’ program. Unfortunately for them, I’m a good actor and very stubborn. I’m also good at learning from my mistakes. Never got caught again.”

We watched Jason and the girls play with the dogs for a while, snuggled close on the window seat. The house was swiftly filling with delicious smells, and my stomach grumbled with hunger. I noticed a little heart carved into the window sill, and when I leaned closer, I spotted the initials V+J inside it.

“Jason and I used to watch the stars out this window,” Vincent said, as I traced my finger over the heart. “It always made our problems feel smaller, somehow. Like in all that vastness of space, we’re just tiny motes of dust with tiny problems.”

Staring up into the pale blue sky, I understood the feeling. A few wispy clouds floated by, the breeze rustling the trees. Autumn was just around the corner. Despite the drama, the pain, and the confusion we humans went through, the world kept on turning anyway.

It was reassuring, in a way. No matter how stressful or uncertain things felt, life would go on.

“I’ve always wanted to buy him a really good telescope,” Vincent continued. “He really loves, like, planets and all that shit. Just haven’t been able to afford it yet.” He kissed my cheek, then rested his chin on my shoulder. “We should take you stargazing sometime. If you want.”

“I’d love that.” I giggled as I watched Jojo lose the ball, and the girls had to run and retrieve it for her. “Do you know any good spots?”

“I know a few. There’s a new spot I heard of recently that sounded fun; it’s in a state park up north. They have a haunted lighthouse you can stay in.”

“Okay, you’ve sold me!” I said. “Where is this place and when can we go?”

“It’s in New York.” His voice caught slightly as he said it.  He was tracing his fingers over my arm, and when I looked back at him, the smile on his face was almost shy. “We can go whenever you want. Really.”

“To New York?” I said softly, and he nodded.

“Wherever you want to be, baby.”

Oh. It was like all the breath whooshed out of my lungs. He cupped my face, leaning so close as if to kiss me before he said, barely above a whisper, “Wherever you go, I want to be there too.”

“Yoo-hoo! Dinner is ready!” Vera’s voice called up to us from below, breaking the breathless tension. We both laughed, and he kissed me before we got to our feet.

Downstairs, the table had been set as if for a feast. There was a whole roast chicken with potatoes and carrots, biscuits, green beans, and dressing. My mouth started watering at the sight of it, and my stomach gave another enthusiastic growl as I took a seat between Vincent and Manson.

There was no clasping of hands and no prayer, but Stephan stood at the head of the table and said simply, “We are thankful now, as we always will be, for the blessing of our children, for the blessing of their love, and of course, for the blessing of new love.” He smiled at me, and Vera held my hand across the table. Then he sat and leaned over to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Thank you for all your work to create a beautiful meal for us, my dear.”

We echoed his thanks around the table before he clapped his hands, encouraging us all to dig in. I piled my plate high, not wanting to miss a taste of anything. Vera popped a bottle of wine and we passed it around the table to fill our glasses.

The crackling fire was warm and the rich food brought me back for seconds. Conversation was easy, with both of Vincent’s parents being quick to laugh and eager to listen. All throughout the dinner, Stephan’s words stuck in my mind. The blessing of new love. As I watched Vincent do magic tricks for Kristina, Lucas and Manson joking with Stephan, and Jason promising to play dolls with the twins after dinner, those words kept coming back to me.

Love.