Our Contract of Distrust

-- 31 --

Feodor goes to prepare dinner and I'm left in one of my most cherished situations: being alone with a stranger. 

Connie seems content to let me stew in my thoughts. And usually I wouldn't really care to do otherwise, but they've been rather obnoxious recently. 

"Did you teach Feodor any, um, dishes?" I ask Connie.

"Now why would I do that?" He casts a judgmental look at Feodor before he breaks into laughter. 

"No, in all seriousness I just never felt the need." Connie says, "The kid was already taught by his mum, and I think it'd only result in me annoying him if I tried. You see, I'm rather used to things being done on a tight schedule now, which isn't the best approach to bring to the teaching field." 

"I suppose not." 

"And you? Can you cook, Nadia?" 

"Simple dishes yeah. I never bothered to learn anything fancy though." 

"I take it you're not a big fan of food?" 

I shrug. 

"You know, if you're interested in learning more," Connie says. He couldn't be about to offer despite...? "You should ask Feodor."

"Oh." 

"I think you'll find he's the infinitely more patient of the two of us." 

I look over at Feodor. "Is that so?" 

"You don't seem to believe me." 

"Ah, no, that's not it." How much did he really know about our relationship? 

"Can you do me a favour, dear?" Connie says.

"Um, what?" 

"Don't be too quick to judge his silence." 

Okay? What did that mean?

Connie smiles lightly. "I won't pretend to really know what goes on in his head, I just know he isn't too good at communicating it." 

I wonder if Trin has ever said something similar about me. 

I just nod in response. 

Connie rests his elbow on the table and smiles into the palm of his hand. "But I suppose you understand that." 

What was that supposed to mean? 

I feel like I'm being sized up by a psychologist or something. 

A psychologist with absolutely no tact for dealing with clients. 

"So," I begin, surprised that a topic even comes to me for once, "How did you and Feodor meet?" 

 "High school. We were classmates. Nothing spectacular really." He casts a glance back at Feodor and then leans forward, "Let me tell you a secret. That guy," he tilts his head to indicate Feodor, as if there's another option, "He was even more awkward back then, if you can believe it. A lot less," he pauses to find the word, "manly looking though." 

"Conn," Feodor calls suddenly. 

"Hmm? Yes Fee?" 

"Stop gossiping about me." 

"Please, as if I would do that," Connie calls back. 

He turns back to me with a half irked half amused expression on his face. 

"I swear sometimes that kid can read minds," he mutters. 

"How damn good is his hearing?" I find myself saying.