The Vaticinator

18. Mikhail's Archenemy

The voting day passed by like any other day for us. The mansion is not where the voting occurs so we are not aware where exactly the horde of people had gathered. Now it’s been almost two weeks above the voting; for which I have realized that the representatives of different divisions are carrying out the votes in their respective divisions. We have not had much to do in the last few days except for aimlessly gallivanting inside the mansion. None of my family members encourage any of us young people to explore the realm. Even if they will, I don’t think I will feel enthusiastic about the idea. So far, my grandmother’s house is the only place I have visited except for the mansion. She persuades me at times to visit the family business but I always find some excuse. The thought of watching the bakery from which our shop in Latvia literally took birth is not something I want to see. It will only make me realize how ignorant my family has kept me, amidst such personal things.

Though I have come to like my grandmother’s famous hot chocolate, I still do not feel particularly enamored with the woman. She talks at miles per hour and coddles us like we have been here all our lives. Every one of us kids, even Neal, in fact even Silvia, has come to like Erisna for the homely aura she disposes. My grandfather, Jacob is, as opposed to my grandmother, not so talkative. Yet, that old man has sensed my reservations much quickly than my grandmother. I observe the laughing wrinkles on his ethereal face, his plain brown eyes, opposed to my blue ones, twinkling, as he continues to express observations of his own.

“Is it because you’re homesick?” he says in a gravelly voice which is actually how his voice is. Perhaps, due to old age.

“No.” I say, “I am fine.” I insist.

“I know adjustment can be hard, son. But know that we are trying our best to be good grandparents.”

Jacob is not a tough old man. He is humble, mostly placid. He keeps a straight back when he walks but a constant compliant smile on his face and one of his ears constantly devoted to his wife makes him seem a little shorter than he is.

“Grandpa…” I say, actually feeling bad for ignoring these old people. But then I huff, “I didn’t even know you guys existed a few days ago.” I tell him, exasperated.

Jacob suspires, “I know, son. Though I will never understand why you had to be kept oblivious of me and Erisna.”

His words speak volumes to me, something along the lines that it’s only my other grandfather – Mikhail – I should have been oblivious of. For a moment I contemplate asking what does he exactly imply but then I refrain, more from the fear of rejection. They are the only ones who are affectionate towards me, despite my disinclination towards them. If I will discover that they are prone to hide things too then it will probably destroy whatever positive image I have managed to conjure of them.

Besides, it just feels wrong to talk of my one grandfather to my other grandfather. I have not seen both of them talking at all, anyways. In fact, I haven’t seen Mikhail at all since that ‘judiciary’ gathering in the backyard. It is already around a month after that.

But I definitely am considering asking about why my parents left this realm as I feel that is indirectly connected to Mikhail. Just as a coherent sentence forms in my mind, I get distracted by Neal sitting across the yard in the distance.

“Erm,” I distractedly turn back at Jacob, “I am fine, grandpa.” I repeat, “Don’t worry.”

“Hmm.” Jacob says, turning around to see what has me distracted. Thankfully, Silvia, Aakir, Faith and Rahul are also in the front yard. So, Jacob may probably not assess the embarrassing blush creeping on my neck. “I just want you to know that we are here for you. Now go, have fun.” Jacob says, patting my shoulder once.