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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN → MAKING UP FOR LOST TIME
its not how i remember it here. what i remember is it being cold and dark, with the smell of cigarettes and weed lingering in the air. but instead the sun is out, gleaming onto annie's porcelain skin and bouncing off of boris's aged (but not any less charming) curls.
he sits beside me on the park bench, as we both tenderly watch our daughter playing in the sand-pit of the playground. just the mere thought that our careless and never-ending lovemaking ended up making her. i guess she was collateral damage, yet a blessing in disguise.
i lean close to boris, getting a sharp waft of his expensive cologne. "should i tell her, that you're her father?"
boris snorts, tossing his hair out of his eyes and nudging my side. " i am no father to her, doroha, i haven't been there. no need! don't ruin her imagination of what her real father could be like."
i pinch the bridge of my nose, wanting- yearning- to tell boris that annie has grown up thinking george is her father.
yet i manage to push away the thought, letting out a content sigh. "alright. if you want it that way, so be it."
and so our conversation begins, exchanging in the thoughts of our fucked up adolescence.
boris wafts his hand around carelessly, golding a cigarette in the other. "you wanted to die, and drink your life away. i wanted to have fun. we where crazy, back then. different times."
i nod in agreement, tucking my hair behind my ear. over the faint noise of childrens laughter and birds singing, boris waves his cigarette in my face. "want one?"
quickly, i shake my head. "i quit."
he nods understandingly, as i gesture towards annie- who is occupying herself by building a sand castle.
i change the subject. "so, you're married?"
"yes!" boris chirps, a grand smile spreading across his lips. he then begins to fumble through his pockets.
he pulls out his phone, and within a few swipes, he turns the phone towards me. "this is my wife."
i grab the phone, gawking at the sight of a fresh faced woman, with pretty blonde hair cascading down her baby pink sweater. two small and identical looking boys with blonde bowl-cuts stand beside the woman ( the twins he had mentioned, i assume ) and a small baby with a tuft of brown hair cradled within the woman's arms.
