Belonging

Petro takes me to a small restaurant. We sit near the back, in a comfortable booth.

"What would you like?" He asks, after a few minutes of looking over the menu. My eyes go to the cheapest thing on the menu, and I ask him for that. When the waitress comes around he says what we both want, and I lean back in the seat, glancing around.

An awkward silence settles over us, and I scrunch my mouth to the side as I look down at the table.

"Are you going to join the debate club?" He asks after a moment.

"I don't know." I whisper.

"It could be fun." He says.

"Yeah, I guess.." I trail off when the sleeve of his shirt pulls up, and I see the letters STASIYA.

I tilt my head a little bit, trying to see closer. I recognise the prefix of ANA, and surprise fills me because Petro has my name tattooed on his wrist.

"Is that my name?" I ask.

He follows my gaze to his own wrist, then nods. He pulls his sleeve back down, and I frown a little bit.

"When did you get that?" I question.

"Uh.." he says, twisting his watch a little bit. "A few years ago."

"Really?" For a moment I had thought if it was recent, or some attempt to make me like him, but if he got it a few years ago clearly it isn't. Why would he get a tattoo of my name if I wasn't even living with him then?

"Mhm."

"Do you have everyone else's names?" I ask.

"No." He responds. "It's just yours."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you.. do that?" I ask.

"Because you're my baby sister." He tells me.

I glance away. "I'm not a baby." I say.

     "I know." He says.

Our drinks come, and I take a long sip of my lemonade, letting the cool liquid calm the sudden ache in my throat. I look down at the table, my eyes tracing the intricate lines carved into the wood.

     "It's Christmas next month." He tells me.

"I know." I say quietly.

"Is there anything you want?"

     I shake my head.

     "Are you sure?" He asks. "You can have anything you want."

     I return my gaze to his. "You don't have to buy me anything, you know."

     "I want to." He tells me.

     "Well, I don't want you to." I whisper.

     "Why?"

     "Because if you want me to like you I'd rather you just.. be kind to me. Not buy me things."

     "Okay." He says after a moment. "I can do that."

     "Thanks." I whisper.

     He smiles at me. I look down again, beginning to feel even worse for taking my father's number off his phone. For a moment I debate whether or not to delete the number and then it might be like I never had it at all, but despite my inner turmoil regarding Petro I really do want to talk to my father.