August

June 3: Saturday

Henrik was woken in the middle of the night by a cold bed. He sat bolt upright, thoughts tearing through his mind at incredible speeds, some horrifying, some disturbing, some frightening. Where was his wife? Henrik's eyes adjusted quickly to the low moonlight; in this room, any light source bounced around, reflected on the polished marble and the gilded trimmings of the room and made it seem brighter. After a second, he was able to distinguish a light coming down the short hall that led to the bathroom. He padded barefoot across the cold floors. Closer, he was able to distinguish the sound of voices - worry rose up again and he considered going back for a weapon, but pressed on. A few yards further and he was able to clearly hear the sound of Phidias, mumbling to himself.

Henrik knocked gently, then pushed the large white door to the side. Phidias was sitting on the ground, his palms pressed flat to the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. Wearing only a tshirt and his underwear, his skin still shone with sweat. He looked pitifully up at Henrik.
"I threw up again." Phidias looked back down at his palms, still pressed tight to the floor as if he were holding it in place. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
Phidias sounded so plaintive that Henrik's heart melted a little. He gave a wan half-smile to his carrier wife.
"I think you might be pregnant, Phidias."
Phidias's eyebrows pressed together in an expression of confusion, or worry, or resignation.
"I think I might be, too."

~

Henrik led him down the front stairs through to the adjoining parlor that separated their home from the main house, holding his hand the entire way.
"Come. Mahir always has food in their kitchen."
They padded across cool floors and silky rugs, turning on as few lights as possible.
Almost at the kitchen, Henrik stopped. Phidias, who had not been paying attention at all, almost crashed into him.
Henrik tilted his head, the curious affectation that he used to represent alertness. He peered forward through the slanted light of a far-behind lamp, then spoke over his shoulder at Phidias.
"Someone is awake."
Henrik released his hand, then squeezed his wrist. Phidias stayed where he was. Henrik disappeared around a curve in the hall, then reappeared moments later, smiling.
"It's alright, Phidias. Come. Anders has arrived."

~

In the kitchen, Anders was seated at the wide chopping island with a young man who Phidias did not recognize. Immediately self-conscious, he touched a hand to his hair, then his shirt, pulling it down where it had ridden up over his stomach.
Henrik waved a dismissive hand.
"It's fine, Phidias. Ghali is family."
Phidias looked over the young man. Ghali had dark hair, almost shorn completely, and a quick, light way to him. He was slim, almost bony in places, and his features were alert, but had the guarded caution that Phidias usually associated with orphans and the street kids he'd seen in the major cities. He had only the barest hint of stubble growing in, but the wiry muscles in his forearms and the shading under his eyes made Phidias suspect that he might be older than he looked.

Ghali, who was engrossed in a plate of food in front of him, waved with a spoon at Phidias. Anders grinned and raised his head.
"Hey, Mom."
It took Phidias a minute to understand that Anders was speaking to him.
"Hey." he managed from a hoarse throat.
Anders flicked his eyes over him.
"Are you OK?"
Henrik interrupted.
"Phidias is fine, Anders. He is just a little worn out from the journey, and very hungry and tired. Ghali, what are you eating?"
Ghali raised his head and spoke around a mouthful.
"Kapsa."
Henrik grunted.
"Your mother's?"
Ghali nodded, then caught himself.
"Na'am, sayiddi." he answered, again around a mouthful.
"Is there any more?"
Anders scoffed.
"No. You forget, Dad - Ghali's midnight snacks are full meals. He finished it." Anders gave Ghali a teasing shove, and the smaller youth yelped an incoherent scolding. Anders laughed, then said something softly to him in a language that Phidias didn't understand. Ghali flicked his eyes up to Anders, briefly, then down, shyly.
"No." he answered, quietly, in English, then pushed his plate away and abruptly left the kitchen.
Henrik turned from the refrigerator and looked questioningly at Anders. Anders raised his hands in a gesture of bewilderment, and Henrik set down the two dishes he was holding and gestured to Phidias.
"Anders, help him." Then he disappeared out after the other boy.
Anders dutifully retrieved two plates and cutlery for his parents, bustling around the kitchen. Phidias watched him, noticing the tension that had developed in his face since Ghali had left.
"I don't think it was what you said."
Anders jerked around to look at Phidias.
"What?"
Phidias indicated the doorway.
"Ghali. It wasn't you. I think maybe he's just having a bad day."
Anders closed his eyes for a moment, as if bolstering himself.
"Right. No, he's just... Ghali's weird sometimes."
Phidias gave Anders a cheering smile.
"Well. I'm sure it'll be OK."

~:~