Snippet #1538737

:k s e n i a:

It had been less than five minutes after I sent my text that Alena started pestering me again. I had already gone through my short program, and I was now headed back toward the house in a pair of three-year-old flipflops with my skates in one hand, socks stuffed into them. I was wearing a pair of light grey sweat pants and a dark purple tank top, which I was pretty sure belonged to Len, but I wasn't complaining because it looked good on me. Mom has a habit of mixing up our clothes in the wash and not knowing what belongs to who — we could at least try to make it easier by not throwing it all in the same basket... or maybe if Len tried dressing a little more feminine.... Not that I shouldn't dress more masculine and refrain from wearing my sister's clothes.... It's just that... they fit... and they look good.

"Wow, he hasn't texted back. Maybe you offended him." She playfully elbowed me in the arm and I stumbled into Yvette, who immediately pushed me back up off her. I pulled my skates up to my chest and started twirling one of the laces around my finger to busy myself while that thought took root.

"I did not," I replied after another half minute of silence. "He's my best friend."

"You want him."

I wasn't sure who had gotten to it first — Yvette or Alena. The two did this thing sometimes where they'd say things at the same time with the same pitch inclinations and the same thoughts in mind. They'd always laugh together like it was funny, but it was almost always something directed at me. It's true that they picked on me often, and that I usually just sat there and took it and I never complained or asked them to stop. If it made them feel better to put me down, or pick on me because I had, at one point, admitted that I might have a sliver of a crush on my best friend, then that was alright. It probably made them feel better. They were laughing, weren't they? And laughing is good for the heart... so I couldn't say anything. I wouldn't. Besides... I couldn't very well deny something that was sort of... maybe... a little bit more than a little bit... uhmm... true... could I? I could, physically, but then I'd be lying. All I could do in response was lean down and pull my skates up in attempt to hide my cheeks as they reddened considerably. I was going to have a difficult time blaming it on the weather, so when Len pulled my skates away from my face and asked, "Sen, are you blushing?" I just nodded, and it sent her into a fit of squeals. Automatically, she assumed that I was thinking something dirty — "Oh my God, you're thinking something dirty, aren't you! Pervert!" — but I really wasn't. I did want him... to hurry up and take me away from the dolphin in my right ear. I like dolphins and all... just not when they just happen to be my sister. She has this habit of squealing like some sort of rabid fangirl whenever she thinks that I might have a crush on a certain person or she sees something cute and fluffy. Subsequently, she also squeals whenever Feliks says or does something. I'll give her that one. Feliks is both cute and fluffy.

Speak of the Devil. Except that he's not a devil. He's more like a little angel, but that's beside the point.

Feliks came running out of the house in his snowsuit and hugged onto my legs as best he could with the limited mobility provided by his winter wear. I smiled and looked down at him over my skates, and he just grinned excitedly. He really is the cutest thing, all golden blonde hair and big blue eyes. He does look alot like I do, and despite the age difference, it's so obvious that we're brothers. Of course... there was the one time I was babysitting him and took him into town with Viena and someone said that it was precious to see two men and their baby on such a beautiful day, and then she asked how old he was and commented on the use of surrogates by gay couples. She was old, so I just laughed and told her that Feliks was my little brother, but it was obvious that she didn't believe me. Who would, when I tend to stand so close to the people I hang out with, and Feliks clings to my hand like I really am his Mommy?

"Sen, Momma's trying to make me take a bath, and I don't wanna."

I was about to respond when I saw the back door open and Mom stepped out onto the covered porch. She really didn't look happy. "Feliks! Vernitesʹ v dom i prinimatʹ vannu!" He doesn't understand much of what she says, but she's said before that she's more comfortable speaking in Russian when she's angry, so she does. After nineteen years, I've had to learn.

Completely immobilized by the four-year-old wrapped around my legs, and aware that said younger brother was obviously intimidated, I rested a hand on his head, then reached down for one of his hands. "Come on, Feliks. You'd better just get into the bath." It struck me then that he had his whole snowsuit on, including his little hand-knitted hat with the big puff on the top and little bells on the strings.... How long had it taken Mom to catch up to him? Of course... it did appear that she had changed clothes since the last time I saw her.... My look changed now — a little worried. "What did you do?"

He just smiled sheepishly, and all at once I knew he wasn't wearing anything under his snowsuit. I sighed heavily and handed my skates to Len, picking my brother up and carrying him toward the house. "You need to apologize to Mom for whatever you did, okay?"

"Idonwanna."

I sighed again. "Please? For me? Say, 'Mne zhalʹ Mama'. She'll appreciate it more if you say it in Russian."

He slumped down against my shoulder and I could already hear him pouting. "But I don't wanna." Such a weak protest. I didn't need to say anything else. When we reached the porch, he turned to face her and told her he was sorry in Russian like I had instructed, but he mispronounced both 'mne' and 'zhal''. At least he got Mama right. That's all that counts. And Mom seemed to understand. She just smiled and went back inside, instructing me to give Feliks his bath instead.

"Ksenia, datʹ Feliks svoyeĭ vannoĭ, ne tak li? Tak kak on lyubit vas tak mnogo...."

It took me a minute to register what she had asked of me and I started a little. "No.... Ya sobirayusʹ s Viena. U menya net vremeni—" And then I realized who I was talking to and stopped before I said something that might end my life. No need to be so dramatic, though, because I'm sure that my Mom would never kill me for denying my brother a bath. "Ya imyeyu v vidu... da Mama." In compliance, I kicked my flipflops off on the mat inside the door and walked through the living room toward the bathroom. Unfortunately, Dad caught sight of my feet and stopped me.

"Sen, were you wearing sandals in the snow again?"

I turned to him slowly, knowing that I was in trouble. "Yes."

"Do I have to tell you again, or should I take them away?"

"No, Dad. I won't wear them out again. It's just... they're comfortable... and it's easier than putting on boots...."

"You're going to get frostbite, even if you can't feel it. It's for your own good." He paused then, and I almost turned to leave, but his voice stopped me in my tracks. "Any dates yet?" I can say that I'm happy he's alright with my sexual orientation. He didn't speak to me for a long time (I think it was only three days, but considering how close we are, it is a long time), but very slowly he found himself accepting the fact that it was something he couldn't change about me, no matter how hard he tried, and that the few boyfriends I've ever had really did make me happy. Finally he had broken down and said that if it was what I really wanted then it was okay. Too bad he doesn't feel that way about my flipflops....

"Well... I'm going out with Viena tonight, but it's not a date."

Feliks wriggled out of my arms and started stripping down at this point, and I almost missed the comment that accompanied this action. "I like Viena."

"He's tolerable. Why don't you ask him out for real?"

Somethings they all just don't understand.

"Dad.... He's my best friend. I don't like him like that." Do I?