My ego flew backwards through the window and whizzed around the air before it came back to me, inflating six more sizes.
It was time to say something, preferably something clever. “I need to pee.”
Lev seemed frustrated. “Mina, I just told you that you were assaulted by a man who probably would’ve raped you, and you have yet to react.”
I looked Lev in the eye and told him honestly, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” I didn’t wait for his reaction. I slipped out of bed, held my pounding head, and shuffled to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, making an effort to lock it as loudly as possible.
The tears got to me in the shower. It seemed like an appropriate place to let them fall.
Sure, I acted like it didn’t bother me, but when I undressed and saw the hickeys covering my breasts, my pride fell fast and it hit me how serious the situation could have been.
I lifted my hands to run them over the deep red marks and hissed as my fingers brushed my tender nipples. His mouth had been there, and it had been harsh. I didn’t like that. And what was worse was that I couldn’t remember any of it.
It wasn’t a blur. It wasn’t a fuzzy memory. It just wasn’t there. And that didn’t feel good. It was confusing, and appalling, and it made me feel dirty, regardless of whether or not I was a willing participant.
I showered in silence and reasoned with myself. No one would see the other hickeys. I would enlist Nas to help me cover the one on my neck as best as we could. It would all be forgotten soon enough, an incident I would push aside and soldier on past. Just as I did with the other bad things in my life.
When I was done, I dressed in my yellow pajamas, as I intended on going back to bed, and walked back out into the bedroom. The curtains had been drawn open, sending sunlight flooding in. My eyes burned, but I was too busy focusing on the furious man, pacing by the bed.
I took a step closer. “Lev?”
He continued to pace.
Another single step closer. “Lev? What’s wrong?”
He turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “Who hurt you?”
My brow bunched and I shrugged lightly, indicating that I didn’t know what he was talking about.
He paraphrased, “‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’” His bare stomach clenched as he gritted his teeth and growled, “Who hurt you? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll kill them.”
Was it wrong to be turned on by this scene?
Something told me it was highly inappropriate. Somehow, that didn’t stop the flow of warmth sailing through me, or the feeling akin to winning something big, like the lottery.
And Lev was a fine lottery to be won.
But then I looked closer, and that feeling receded. He was distressed. He also looked as though he didn’t know how to deal with that. I could feel the anger and frustration pulsing off him.
Knowing that anger wasn’t directed at me had me by his side in a second flat. I took his hand and led him to the sofa, sitting and pulling him down next to me. I placed his hand in my lap and covered it with mine. “I was on the street for a long time, Lev.” I tilted my head and gave him a regretful look. “Shit happens.”
“No,” he uttered, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t. People cause those things to happen, and they need to be punished. They need to suffer the consequences.” He declared, “There is always a price to pay.”
“You want to search the streets to find a group of young thugs who tried to force sex on me years ago? Does that sound like a normal thing to do?”
Lev lowered his head and revealed, “I’m not normal.”
I wasn’t about to lie to him. “No, you’re not.” Then I admitted quietly, “But sometimes I think you’re better than the normal person. Extraordinary. Unique. Elite. Gallant.” He didn’t look up at me. I didn’t like when he tried to hide from me. I squeezed his hand. “Hey. They didn’t succeed, you know. That knife you took from me when I first got here…it did its job.”
When I ran my thumb over his fingers, he winced. My brow drew taut as I lifted his hand to examine it.
My heart stopped.
The middle finger on his left hand was swollen, purple, and very obviously bent in a direction that it shouldn’t have been going in. “Lev, sweetie,” I spoke calmly. “I think your finger is broken.”
He nodded as if that wasn’t news to him. “It’ll be fine.”
“Jeremiah?” I asked.
He grunted affirmatively.
I sighed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that it doesn’t hurt.”
“No.” He shook his head lightly. “It hurts very much.” He turned to me, looking me in the eye. “But the reason behind it was worth every ache.”
I am falling in love with you, Lev Leokov.
This time, the sudden thought didn’t surprise me. I think I’d known it a while now.
Chapter Eighteen
Mina
Another week went by, and as I was forced to take a week off work (doctors orders), I spent every waking moment with Mirella and Lidiya, learning as much as I could about the little girl’s likes and dislikes.
Turns out, Lidiya loved only one of her dolls. She was extremely attached to the Cabbage Patch Kid named Ivy Gail.
I didn’t know this. I thought she liked Cabbage Patch Kids in every way, shape, or form. So, early in the week, when Nas and I went to the mall, I bought Lidiya a new Cabbage Patch Kid, called Annabel Cherish, with some of my tip money. I got this one, because it looked a bit like the chubby little cherub. I also bought a tiny doll stroller so Lidi could walk her new friend around.
When we brought it home, I showed it to Mirella who, through a grimace, told me that although it was very sweet of me, Lidiya would likely not take to it and that she was very particular.
I was slightly devastated. And I moped.
Why would she not like my doll? I bought it just for her. She should like my damn doll! I spent fifty dollars on this freaking doll and stupid stroller.
But when Lidiya woke from her nap, I handed her the doll, and sulked all the way upstairs without waiting to see her negative reaction. I threw myself under the covers and was rudely interrupted from my pouting when Mirella called for me.
Flipping the covers down off my face, I called out, “Yes?”
I could hear her smiling. “Lidiya is asking for you.”
My feet shuffled the entire way down, but when I entered the living room, my attitude changed.
Lidiya sat in the middle of the floor with Annabel Cherish, hugging her to her side and muttering, “Eena, pay. Mine.” Then she spotted me and smiled. “Eena. Lookit.”
She stood and rushed over to me on her little legs, showing me her new dolly. I beamed, “You like it?” She thrust the doll at me and I gave it a little squeeze. “Her name is Annabel Cherish.”
Lidiya took the doll, hugging it around the neck. “Eena.”
I shook my head. “No, angel pie,” I corrected. “Annabel.”
“Eena,” she muttered as she walked the doll over to meet her kin, Ivy Gail.
Mirella chuckled. “I don’t believe it. She’s had other Cabbage Patch dolls. She never took to them. Only to Ivy.”
I smiled at the woman. “Now she has Annabel.”
Mirella shook her head lightly. “No,” she observed. “Now she has Mina.”
And that was how little Mina came to be.
Lev would come down on occasion and thoughtlessly interrupt my time with his daughter, often times sneaking in lunch or snacks with us.
A nice man with a pockmarked face and glasses who the guys called Pox came down every day that week to check on me. When I asked if he was a doctor, everyone seemed to avoid the question.
He told me it didn’t look as if there would be any lasting effects from being drugged. I was glad to hear it, not that I was worried. I took Lev by the uninjured hand and sat him down, forcing Pox to look at his finger. Lev tried to argue, but I wasn’t hearing it.