#doorways

Doorways Interior - Sarah Spencer

British , b. 1965 -

Mickey’s unexpected father/son day was not going exactly to plan, unless the plan was for a toddler to be beating the fuck out of him while screaming at the top of his lungs in Russian.

“Igrat!  Igrat! Igrat!”  Yevgeny punctuated his demand by banging his Tonka truck repeatedly on Mickey’s legs.  

“Fuck!  OK, OK!”  Wincing, Mickey reached down and picked up the todder.  “I still don’t understand what the fuck you’re saying, you know,”  he informed his son.

Yevgeny blinked at him innocently and Mickey sighed.  “OK, you and I gotta have a little talk, man to man,”  he sat Yevgeny down on the ragged sofa and knelt before him. “See, I'm supposed to be getting you to speak English and your mom is giving me nothing but shit about it.  So how about we forget about Mother Russia for a while and bring it on home to the good ol’ US of motherfucking A, alright?  Here,” Mickey looked around.  “How about we practice a bit, whaddya say?”, he reached down and picked up Yevgeny’s truck.  Can you tell me what this is?

“Mashina!” Yevgeny said promptly and grinned when Mickey’s eye twitched. 

“Try again, kid.  Truck,” Mickey enunciated the word slowly. “Can you say that for me?  Truck?”

“Mashina! “ Yevgeny repeated stubbornly, jaw jutting out, and Mickey sighed, setting the truck on the desk.  “Ok, let's try again.  We'll pick something you really like,”  he dug his phone out of his pocket, opening his texts.  For once, the daily cat pictures Colin sent him might actually come in handy.  “K, first, let’s test out what you know.  Who’s in this picture?” he opened Colin’s most recent text and showed the picture to Yevgeny; one of Colin cradling his brown tabby cat in his arms.  “Who’s that, huh?”  he asked again.

Yevgeny shoved a finger in his mouth, uncharacteristically quiet.  He looked at his father with big eyes and didn’t answer.

“OK, too much pressure, I get it.  Can you point to Uncle Colin?”

Some of Yevgeny’s reticence resolved and his smile came back.  He tapped Colin’s face on the phone and looked at Mickey for approval.

“See, you understand what I’m saying!”  Mickey encouraged.  “Put it there, little man,” he held up his palm and Yevgeny slapped it, giggling.

“OK, let’s try again,”  Mickey returned his attention to the phone.  “Where’s the kitty cat, huh?”

Yevgeny tapped the screen again, this time over the cat.

“See, this is fucking awesome.  Now we’re communicating,”  Mickey grinned at his son.  “OK, so can you say that?  Say cat for me?”

Yevgeny stared at Mickey.

“Please?  Say cat!”  Mickey encouraged again.  “Just say this one word for me, and I’ll leave you alone.  Deal?  Can you say it?  Cat?”

“Gato,”  Yevgeny chirped.

“Gato?  Ga - is that fucking Spanish??”  Mickey stared at his son.  Yevgeny grinned toothily back at him.