Prologue
ANNA
"We're getting back together."
The moon was hung in a sky of darkness with some stars littered around. A few grey clouds appeared and momentarily swept over the moon. It was a hot night but a strange cool breeze sneaked in through the golden framed windows into the tense atmosphere and Anna briefly related it to the sudden drop of her heart at the uttered words.
It was obvious something was going on—getting back from track practice to see both of her parents exchanging words in normal talking tones was as believable as [something unbelievable but true].
Seeing Xavier's crossed arms and scowl proved that this was indeed the reality.
"What?" her brother snarled and her bare arms chilled with goosebumps.
Her father remained unfazed. "We feel like we made a mistake."
"Two actually." Xavier waved a finger between them. "But we're over that. Now, stay divorced."
Anna had rarely seen her mother cry but in this comparably mild situation, there were coats of tears making her eyes twinkle. There were days where Xavier would lock himself in for a long time and self-destruct, where her father would be disappearing for drunken nights with his mistress, where Anna wouldn't speak to anyone—and her eyes would be as dry as a desert.
"Xavier," she pleaded, another off-putting thing she's never seen her mother do.
"She's pregnant."
Anna had always loved her father's deep voice. It sounded like a harsh ground being rhythmically stomped on by horses. It might seem like an unpleasant sound but that's the only way Anna could put it into words. But as he said those words, she could not relish his baritones and instead, felt a painful urge to hurl.
Xavier's breaths became heavier and it seemed like it was getting harder for him to breathe. When Anna faced him, she could see his big blue eyes grow even bigger and even though she sucked at reading them and emotions, it was clear he was experiencing fear. She couldn't blame him. For Irina and Andrew Vasilyev to get back together could only ensue one thing—more fights to keep them awake and more yells to haunt them until the next night. Even Xavier's looming alcoholism couldn't keep them apart.
Xavier got up and headed straight upstairs but strangely didn't slam his bedroom door shut. Her heart ached for him.
"Anna, sweetheart," her father started and a shaky breath entered her. He didn't continue talking. It was a way to get her to respond, she knew that. Unlike her brother, she's not a ticking bomb. She's more of a clock with calm, calculated movements.
"Goodnight," was all she could say as she followed her brother's footsteps, trailing off to her own bedroom where she barely remembers shutting the door and laying on her bed.
She spent a few hours, unmoving and staring at the constellation glow-in-the-dark stickers Xavier helped her stick onto the ceiling. She remembered that day. They couldn't reach the ceiling and tried to jump on the bed to no avail—her brother wasn't really tall. So they dragged suitcases full of clothes, in need to be donated, on her bed and stacked them above each other until one of their stretched arms could hang the stars on the sky.
Every time she stared at them, she saw her brother's stubby finger stick them, pushing them with the pad of his thumb to make sure they won't fall any time soon. That day, they laid underneath those luminous stars together and slept while making up names and constellations they knew didn't exist.
She couldn't imagine life with both parents again—she knew those six months were too good to be true. But a baby, a baby coming into this dysfunctional family.
Anna didn't know who to pity anymore.
A knock got her to sit up, ignoring the pain in her waist. "Come in."
Xavier slipped in and a duffel bag over his shoulder made her stand up with vigorous emotions pushing against her chest.
"Listen," he started but she didn't want to. She shook her head like it was all it's going to take to convince him. "No, listen to me, come with me. Anna, you just knew about their reunion and you already look like you're being sent to a beheading."
He took her hand and held it with both of his larger ones. "My friend has this really good place. It's huge, it's great. Come with me, Anna, we'll be so far away from all this shit."
Tempting, some would call it. Reckless, she would call it.
"I know your stupid head." He said it fondly but Anna heard the desperation behind it. "Just think about it and tell me tomorrow."
With a last kiss to her forehead, Anna stood there with words and accompanying sobs stuck in her throat. She couldn't say anything. She couldn't even beg him to stay. She couldn't ask that of him. He only became an alcoholic because of them and he only took the step to get better because they got divorced. And then, the risk would be hanging around until he wasn't.
She closed her bedroom door, a painful empty feeling speaking like a column from her belly to the base of her throat. It was throbbing with the need for something. Something that Anna could not imagine serving for the next few years.
When she curled up in her bed, a memory sparked in her mind and was deemed too hot to be touched a while ago but at that moment, Anna realized what could finally bring her family's downfall and she never slept that night.
ELLIOT
A cup of tea nestled in between his hands was all he needed to feel alive again. A nine-hour flight from Paris to Newark airport could that to him. It's been a while since he took that trip but he's glad that he was not going back anytime soon. He hated airplanes.
The ride from the airport to the house had been eventful enough with honks, French, and reckless swerves from Elowen's driving—she insisted it's the only way to survive New York but he begged to differ. He was sure she was falling asleep at the wheel, it was an ungodly hour she had to be awake at after all.
Of course, offering to drive instead would have gotten himself killed faster than Elowen's love for drifts.
He took a sip and closed his eyes. Tea was his comfort. It raced down his throat and warmed all his insides.
The past month had been hectic. He had to break up with his girlfriend that he was not even serious about. He had to promise many friends that he will keep in touch. He had quit his job at the bakery and that might've been the hardest part. He still had that bag they sent him home with when they received the news. It was filled with everything from croissants to small boxes of mille-feuilles. It was a huge package. He kept the bag, smelling it whenever he wanted to feel nostalgic.
He stretched his legs on the coffee table. He wanted to watch something, maybe pick a tape of an old movie from his mother's collection but the throbbing between his eyes stopped him short.
Last he checked, Elowen was singing in the shower and then his grandmother told her to shut up so she sang louder. It was 4 a.m. and his grandmother was just about to break down the door—an impossible feat considering her petite stature but he would never tell her that—and maybe turn the hot water into a cold rush of shock but he took her into his arms and danced to Elowen's beautiful strong voice.
She gave up after struggling for a while and humored him.
It was a habit of his, to take the nearest person to him and waltz whenever a slow song reached his ears. He used to do it a lot with his mother until she was never able to be on her feet.
He rolled his eyes at himself. It was so like him to turn a happy thought into a wistfully depressing one.
Both of them turned in for the night though, leaving him alone to his annoying thoughts.
He needed to sleep he knew that by the red hue underneath his eyes. He did not look alive. He saw his reflection in the mirror above the consul. His stubble grew and his eyes were bloodshot. He tried everything. He unpacked, made lists of everything he'd need to buy the new week from food to furniture. He made tea four times and smoked a cigarette but nothing. He still couldn't fall asleep. Not until a hint of light sneaked on the horizon.
His grandmother found him the next day in the balcony, in a beanbag, his mother's handkerchief against his nose.
