Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
“Father-!”
“Your mother has spoken, Edmund. I agree with her. That is final.”
I scowled. It was the annual Christmas Dinner that they gave for the families in the neighborhood. My mother had just informed me that the Sakurayama’s were to attend last minute. I was not happy.
Anya scared and angered me those days. An aura that I associated with the attack on the house just a few weeks before emitted from her. When I asked my father to explain why I felt uneasy, he would turn away and tell me to ask my mother. When I asked Mother, she did nothing but turn away from me.
I was five, and did not understand. I thought it was because of Anya, and thus I hated her for making my parents shut me out like this. For the first and only time in my life, my parents denied any explanation of a phenomenon I did not understand.
My mother smiled at me sympathetically, and went back talking to the housekeeper about the arrangements of the party the next day, and my father went back to talking with the chef about the dinner.
I turned on my heels, and went to my room, angry at them. I slammed the door (I would get in trouble later for that...the house is historic here in Durem, after all), fumed over to my bed, and sat there, thinking about the upcoming dinner.
Christmas dinner was for our family and close friends. My mother particularly invited Auntie Agatha. She wasn’t a real aunt...just my mother’s closest friend from childhood.
Apparently, Auntie Agatha had moved to Barton after marring a young man named Mullen who wanted to start a shop there. He tragically died of a heart attack two years into the marriage, and she hadn’t been able to marry since due to his memory. But mother had invited a man she met a while ago to come and meet her. He was new to the Barton area, his homeland being overseas. His name was Logan Sunden. She hoped he would become friends with Auntie Agatha. I was highly doubtful of this, mostly because Auntie Agatha was as independent as my mother.
Next, another new family who had moved into town a few months ago, the Pasternak’s. They too, were from abroad, and have moved to the outlying area of Durem. They only consisted of two adults and their child, a son.
Of course the Gambino’s and Freeman’s were coming, it wouldn’t be Christmas without Johnny getting yelled at for opening one of Rosalie’s presents early.
Sometimes I look back and see, that in a sense, Johnny has grown up. He has, after all, become a successful businessman and millionaire, but trouble, no matter its form, isn’t far away from him.
I looked at Baxter as I pouted on the bed. Anya made me angry.
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“Ah! Takehiko! Svetlana!” My mother kissed Mrs. Sakurayama on the cheeks, “Welcome to our home!”
My father bowed quickly to Mr. Sakurayama, and then extended his hand in greeting. They shook as if they were old friends...as if it were Johnny and I now. I looked around for Anya and was discontented that she wasn’t with her mother and father.
“If you are looking for my Little Beloved,” said Mr. Sakurayama in a low oriental accent, looking at me with a smile, “She is sick tonight.”
“She caught a cold at school.” Mrs. Sakurayama said in a brisk Russian accent. She had long brown hair pinned up, and had a very soft pretty face...much like Anya’s was. “I did not want little Edmund to catch it.”
“Tell her we send our love.” my father said.
I grabbed Mother’s dress as I had a thought, and tugged on it.
“Mother...can I have the cook send soup to her?”
“Oy, my boy!” my father said grinning at me. He had that grin he wore when he argued with Mother, “I thought that you hated the fact little Anya was coming!”
I narrowed my eyes and dug my feet into my shoes, and felt my face get hot. The adults laughed at me, and I got angrier. I wondered what the hell was so bloody funny. My young mind could not grasp the concept that I was like Johnny pulling Rosalie’s dress ribbons.
The Sakurayama’s moved on into the parlor and met with the other guests. The last guests came in then, the Pasternak’s. I observed them as my mother and father greeted them. Mrs. Pasternak had long white hair that flowed slowly over her face. She had narrow eyes, and a smile that made me uneasy. Mr. Pasternack had black hair and a handsome face, his eyes were dark, and he wore a frown as well as Mrs. Pasternack wore a smile.
But when he did smile, like his wife’s smile, it made me angry. It was different than when I was mad at Anya, but it was just an aura they all wore. Their son was behind Mrs. Pasternack. He had white hair like his mother, and a face like his father, with dark eyes. He looked scared, and held his mother’s hand like only she could save him.
“This is our son, Zhivago.” his father said with a flowing Russian accent, “He will start school with Edmund in January.”
Zhivago looked at me and nodded. He sunk back further behind his mother, grasping her skirts.
“Zhi!” she said with an accent just as thick as Mr. Pasternack, “Come out and meet Edmund!”
She pushed her son out from behind her. I stepped out to meet him. His aura was conflicted, I must admit, when I look back on this. Just how conflicted it was, I would find out too late.
“Welcome Zhivago.” I said with a smile, “Welcome to Durem.”
