Chapter 7
632 Words
“It"s a quarter after six. I missed you.”
That would be Mrs. Powolski talking. She was very fond of me.
Samir and I were late for dinner. Again.
“Missed you too, hunny buddy.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Mr. Powolski glared at me. Dinner wasn"t late for him. He"d eaten already but was just mean enough to wait until we got there so he could glare. Samir"s veal cutlets had congealed on the plate. My cutlets with baked potato and cheese sauce made my mouth drool like that dog in the Russian"s study we took in grade ten. I was like the dog, and Mrs. Powolski was Pavlov with greasy grey hair and a flowered apron. I grinned, washed my hands and sat down.
“What are you smiling about?” Mr. Powolski belched and snapped his suspenders.
you“Pavlov,” I said, and forked my food into my maw.
“Sounds like one of those Polski names.” Mr. Powolski wrinkled his forehead. “You been foolin" around with a Polski, Annie?”
“Course she ain"t. She knows the rules,” Mrs. Powolski said. “Besides, the girl"s hitched to our Samir here.”
“Wouldn"t put it past her,” Mr. Powolski said. “I could use another plate of them cutlets, Meredith.”
Samir pushed his dinner across the table. “Here, have mine.” Samir"s face was flushed and his lips tightened.
“Funny,” I said.
“What?” Samir asked.
“Your lips go tight when you"re mad or embarrassed, and when you blush, your face turns purple. What are you, mad or embarrassed?”
“You got a loose mouth.”
“You know,” Mr. Powolski continued, “If you two ain"t hitched, this whole arrangement is off. No more sharing rooms.” “Or beds,” Mrs. Powolski said.
“Funny,” Samir said. I sent him a look.
“None of this is funny.” I explained about Pavlov"s dog. “I was drooling when I saw the meal,” I said. “Reminded me of my science lesson from grade ten.”
“You never went no further than grade ten,” Samir said.
“Did too. Got my high school diploma.”
“Some accomplishment for a young lady like you,” Mrs. Powolski observed.
“What do you mean?” I laid down my fork.
“With a disability, I mean.”
“My aunt teaches at the university. She"s just like me. She"s a prof.
With bipolar or schizophrenia or something.”
“Takes her meds, I bet.”
“Yes.” Oh-oh.
Oh-oh.“Not like some people we know.”
“I"m pretty good with them now. Only missed once last week. I came downstairs this morning and asked for them.” “They cause weight gain,” Samir observed.
“Don"t give a sugar snap pea if they do,” I said, and pushed back my plate. “I just forget sometimes.”
“They"ll give you a depot injection if you forget too often,” Mrs. Powolski said.
“Funny,” I said.
“What?”
“Just like Samir, you"re making faces, Mrs. P.”
His cane was in a corner, carved out of African mahogany with an ivory grip. Had to be dishonest to get that ivory through Customs.
I glanced at Samir. His eyes were wide and innocent-looking, like a child"s.
“Am not,” Mrs. Powolski said. She chuckled, her whole body rippling in time to the deep ahh-ahh as she wrapped her apron around her large stomach and started rinsing dishes.
“Spic and span,” I said. The parrots in their cage by the window squawked. Like my voices.
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