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Nightstand drawers had been Dad’s favorite format of communication. He had left us notes there frequently. He’d liked the surprise element of it.
“What did it say?” I licked the shuba from my fork.
“He asked me for a favor, the cheeky man!” She burst out laughing.
“Are we buying a yacht and cruising the Mediterranean?” I asked hopefully. We could really use a vacation.
“Let me amend—he asked me for something that won’t devastate me financially.” Mom poured herself a third shot of homemade vodka with garlic. Babushka’s recipe. “Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time anyway.”
“Sell your mittens?” My eyes widened, my fingers finding Semus’s chin and neck for a little rub. Mom had made hundreds of pairs of mittens over the years, gifting them to anyone: NICU babies, friends of the family, and anyone else who was willing to take them.
She nodded sheepishly. “People like mittens, right?”
“Mamushka! Of course. What’s not to like about mittens? They keep you warm, they’re stylish, they rhyme with kittens. Can it get any better? I think not. Mittens are proof that God exists and that we’re His children.”
She laughed. “All right. I’ll think about it. How do I even go about it?”
“You open an Etsy shop and sell them online. Super easy. I can set it up for you.”
A beat of silence passed between us. “He might’ve left you something too,” she said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it with my luck.”
“What are you talking about?” She gasped. “Honey, your luck is fin—”
Halfway through her sentence, Semus bit my finger, drawing blood. I was just bringing a pickle to my mouth and jerked back, the pickle juice squirting into my eye.
“Motherfluffer!” I fell flat on my ass, causing the disloyal cat to jump for safety but not before sinking his claws into my thighs to remind me who was the boss. I rolled on the floor, screaming, “My eyes! My eyes!”
“Never mind. Go rest, Callichka. I’ll do the dishes.”
CAL
“Gold Soundz”—Pavement
Before I went to bed, I glared at my nightstand. It was covered in green leopard print that was peeling and curly. I was afraid to open the drawer.
What if Dad hadn’t left me a request? A message? A keepsake to hold on to?
I started making up excuses for him in my head. Why should he leave me a note? It wasn’t like I’d still lived here. He’d had no way of knowing I’d end up staying home for any amount of time. And he had seemed so forgetful, so spacey the months before he’d moved into hospice.
Just open it, Cal, you big, stupid baby.
My heart felt like a mangled piece of paper, ready to be torn. Decisions, decisions. In the end, hope trumped fear. I pressed my eyes shut, curled my fingers around the knob, and pulled the drawer out inch by inch. I opened my eyes, holding my breath.
There was a small USPS envelope resting inside it, neatly sealed atop a pile of decade-old nail polish. My body wilted with relief. It was so supremely Dad to use a USPS envelope. He liked free stuff. Our ideal dinner used to be Costco samples with their sundae for dessert.
Padding over to my study area, I pulled a small metal ruler from my bleached denim pencil case and used it to rip the letter open. I tugged the single A4 page out along with a postcard, struggling for breath, knowing these were going to be the only new words I’d ever get from him.
My eyes burned at the sight of his familiar handwriting. He had the most distinctive penmanship. Cursive and neat, it looked like it belonged in another century.
Dear Callichka,
If you’re reading this, it means that I’m gone. I hope you decided to spend a few weeks with your mother. I think you can both use the time together, and while I’m not sure what kept you away from Staindrop this long, running away from a problem never gets rid of it. Problems are like monsters. Fearing them only feeds them and makes them bigger. Please remember you are stronger than whatever wall is standing in your way. All you need is the right momentum (Newton, laws one, two, three).
My chest filled with warmth. The first thing he’d wanted from me, I’d already pledged to do—I was going to spend some time with Mom.
A little riddle to break the ice:
