I'm Keeping the Kitten

Nikolai

The restaurant wasn’t too crowded, and there was a nice breeze, so Auntie had opened the windows that made up a lot of the front wall, allowing the smell of the flowers to waft in and mix with that of the food. When I got back to Hawaii, Auntie and Uncle—which my bosses Leilani and Malo Hapai insisted on being called—were glad to take me on again. I was happy in that bubble with my surrogate family and the overall silliness that tended to go on at Leilani’s, from the midday silly-dance breaks to entertain Auntie’s granddaughter Lily to the general air of the place that said “come, be happy, be relaxed. Enjoy the little things.”

I was on tentative speaking terms with Tyki and Kyte, though I’d made sure both promised to leave Gallagher and his . . . friend alone, so they had shown up to visit along with Mahi and Turner, who was an exceedingly wonderful friend. Though he insisted he wasn’t gay, Turner was never opposed to affection like hugs or walking in a chain of hand-holding, or anything really. It turned out he, the twins and Kyte already knew each other and all got along splendidly, so he started hanging out with our little coalition.

It was in the midst of silly-dancing to an upbeat pop song with Lily when they came in. At first, I didn’t even notice the two boys, too caught up in the giggling toddler to pay much attention. But being that I was the only server on duty at the moment, I had to notice them when an irritated voice made a loud comment about wanting service and how Gallagher hadn’t mentioned the waiting staff was so incompetent.

Faraday.

The larger boy was sitting at a table at the complete opposite of where my friends were with—of course—my half-brother. Some part of me was insulted that Gallagher would bring him here, knowing this was where I worked and where we’d gone on a few dates and hangouts. But I supposed I had no right to feel that way, and put Lily down, pulling out my pad and putting a smile on my face.

“Hello, welcome to Leilani’s, I’m Nikolai I’ll be your server today, can I start you off with some drinks?” The well-rehearsed words flowed through my lips as I stepped into a sort of autopilot, keeping my eyes focused on the saltshaker and not their fingers intertwined across the table. Gallagher and I never could have held hands like that.

“I’ll just have a Pepsi,” Gallagher stated nonchalantly. Was he trying to get under my skin? Firstly, he hated Pepsi, secondly, he knew we only served Coca-Cola.

“Will Coca-cola do?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And for you?”

“Just a water. No lemon.”

“I’ll have that right up.” I turned away and the majority of my—facial at least—composure dropped to the floor like a speeding train. I would be lying to say it didn’t hurt, but I was strong. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Once they had their drinks they debated over the menu for another ten minutes or so, during which time I left to take care of the other customers.

“Is the slutbag bothering you?” Tyki asked when I passed by. “Cos I could totally rearrange his face if you—”

“No, Tyki. It’s fine.”

“Alright. But I’m just saying.”

I rolled my eyes and went back behind the bar to make up someone’s check, though my eyes couldn’t help but lock onto the alcohol with the thought of needing a drink something awful. Back home I was already legal but not in the states, unfortunately. I sighed and brought the check around, making my rounds on the tables before hearing an impatient snapping and whistling.

I guess Gallagher is ready.

Smile back in place, I took their orders and collected the menus, setting a refill down for Gallagher and topping off Faraday’s cup with the pitcher of water, telling them I would put their orders right in. Which I did.

At some point between me going back to the kitchen and returning, Gallagher had disappeared from the table, his drink completely empty. So, like the attentive server I am, I grabbed him another and brought it to the table where Faraday was glaring daggers at me.

“Funny,” he commented as I was wiping off the water spots. “You don’t look like a drunk. Or a whore.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I was silent, finishing up what I had been doing.

“I mean I understand. Gallagher said you were from, where was it, the Soviet Union? So I understand, drinking must be an escape, but you really don’ seem like the slutty type. And with Turner of all people? Didn’t you already turn one of Gallagher’s friends against him, though it’s probably just hardwired into your little—”

Did he just call me a communist-alcoholic-whore? Yes. Yes he did.

“I’m from Russia. The Soviet Union collapsed decades ago. Honestly, what is your problem?”

“You.” He snapped, “You are my fucking problem.” As he spoke, Faraday got closer until he was right in my face and I had to take a step back. “Everything was fine until you came back and ruined things. Gallagher was happy again but now he’s thinking about you all the time. His sweet little fucking Nikolai, when you’re nothing but a deceitful, lying, low-intelligence, son of a whore!”

I punched him.

I didn’t mean to hurt him but when he called Mama a whore I lost it. Personally, I still blame being off my pills.

“Never talk about my Mama like that!” I screamed, punching him again, watching as ruby red blood gushed from his nose with a sense of satisfaction that spread from my pulsing fist. It was the first time I had ever hit another person on purpose, with malicious intent as the driving force.

He touched his nose—which had already begun to swell—and gasped. “You stupid little bitch!” That was when the real fight began.

Faraday tackled me to the floor, my head colliding with the tile with a heavy thud. His knee dug into my abdomen and his fists rained down, the air being squeezed out of me. But I wasn’t going to just let myself be beaten. I threw him off of me and it was my turn to pin him and drive my knees into every available part of his body. We wrestled and clawed at one another, his nails dragging down my face and my elbow striking his temple.

I could feel the blood rushing down my cheeks, staining my uniform, welling on my arms from new marks made as he tried to wrest me off of him. I held fast as a barnacle as he slammed his body against the floor in an attempt to get me off. I couldn’t tell who was winning. My head was spinning and my entire body hurt but he didn’t seem any better off as my palm hit the side of his face, which he quickly returned, though his was louder and more painful as it was the bleeding side.

It wasn’t exactly a “manly” fight but the anger and fear that drove me made my actions blind. I was afraid, flashbacks of a knife on my side making me lash out with more force. I was angry, thinking of my beautiful mother in any light other than the one she had always resided in made me slam my foot into his groin. How dare he. He didn’t even know her!

There was blood in my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto him, rolling down his neck and pooling on the floor. He took my distraction and threw me into the wall, then grabbed me again and threw me about like a rag doll—though not without being hit or scratched any time he came near.

When I felt hands grabbing me beneath my armpits and dragging me away I continued to kick and scream like a child, but I noticed Faraday was being pulled away as well. By my brother. My furious brother. I looked up and saw Kyte holding me back, glaring daggers at Faraday and Gallagher. Faraday, who was smirking and turned his mangled face to pull Gallagher in for a long, slow kiss, that he seemed helpless to break.

It ended after a few minutes at least and the smaller of the two’s smirk returned, along with the mouthed words, “You’ll never have this.” He wrapped his arms around Gallagher’s neck and played on his protective side. Kyte had long since let me go and I struggled to stand, holding onto a stool for support. The words came without my consent:

“Fuck you, you stupid fucking slut!” I hope you get an STD and die. Without further ado, I ran, ignoring the searing pain in my body, I ran and ran and ran until I collapsed, eyes too blurry with tears to make out anything around me. But it didn’t matter.