"Well you have to stop, Petr. You have no reason to be insecure."
She's right, even if her delivery tends to drive off those she's trying to help.
"I think I'm coming home for Thanksgiving," Katya proclaims.
"Oh, no. You stay there," I say, amused. "You'll come just to beat up Brianna."
"And?"
"Let me figure things out for myself."
She's quiet for a moment. "Okay, Petr. You get one shot, then I'm stepping in."
"All right, sis." I love my sister. She means so well. When our mother died, Katya took over the roll of taking care of Mikael, Baba and me. She was nine at the time and absolutely fearless. She never lost that edge or her huge heart. "You doing okay?"
"When Sawyer's here, yes. When he's not, I have to entertain myself. I've taken up a couple hobbies but I'm not very good at them. Thinking of returning to school."
"For what?"
"Child psychology. Kids don't piss me off like adults."
"Sounds safe then."
"Not funny, Petr," she snaps. "How's Baba?"
"Healthy, happy. Excited about the holidays. You'll be back for Christmas, right?"
"Absolutely. If that means I have to fly to Iraq to drag Sawyer back, I will."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate that." I say, imagining my sister in the deserts of Iraq hunting down her husband. There's no doubt in my mind she's serious.
"Whatever."
"Good talking to you, sis."
"You, too, Petr. Call me tomorrow."
"I might be busy."
"Stop it! Call me tomorrow!"
I laugh again. "Alrighty."
"Love you!"
"Love you, too."
I hang up, cheered by the interaction. She's right about Brianna, and her conviction soothes the part of me chafing about what to do.
Of course, the moment I decide to grow balls, Brianna texts, and I'm thrown into confusion once more.
Okay. If that's what you want.
"Ugh." It'd be better to skip the feast than attend knowing Brianna is already sulking about it.
Fed up with women for the day, I change into workout clothes and go to the large gym on the first floor for a long, brutal session.
The next morning, I show up at the diner an hour later than usual, thanks to an emergency request from Bev for me to pick out matching tablecloths. The moment I chose, she realized I had neither taste nor color coordination ability, so she dismissed me and called my sister.
Claudia perks up from behind the counter as I enter and take my normal booth. Her ponytail is tied with a fall colored ribbon today, and from her pink cheeks, she walked to work. She meets my gaze briefly before circling the counter with a slice of pie and mug in her hands.