Sargis is ten years older than Avet and me. He has that air of being the cool uncle your mother would disapprove of. His brown hair is short around the sides and full on top. His small silver wire frames perch delicately on the end of his long nose. He’s always got a five o’clock shadow, even though now I can see it is specked with a few patches of gray. His hips are wider, but thanks to his top surgery to remove his breasts, that is the only trace that he was born as a woman and transitioned to being a man.
I drop my shopping bag onto the counter, grinning like a kid at Christmas when Sargis hops over the divide so he can deliver one of his signature bone-crushing hugs. He kisses my cheek and laughs, letting out a loud “Whoop!” to draw the eyes of a few nearby shoppers whom I don’t recognize.
It’s like I never left him high and dry. It’s like the fact that I was a crap son to him when I left without keeping in touch isn’t a bridge we will have to repair.
How does he do that? Must be a parent thing—to love without caveat, no matter if the idiot kid is deserving.
Sargis grabs at the arm of the nearest person. “Do you know who this is? This is the man who thought he would settle down and find a better life outside of trapping. Can you imagine?” He kisses my cheek again. “This is my boy. My son.”
The stranger chuckles at me. “I see you found your way back. Good to meet you, Son.” He extends his hand, which I shake after Sargis releases me.
“Thanks.” Then to Sargis, I say, “I’m not actually back in the game, Sargis. I’m just helping out with a job. One we could use your insight on, actually.”
Sargis gathers me in one arm and Avet in his other. “My two boys, back together and better than ever. I know what this occasion needs. I’m going to break out the good cheese. Come on back.”
Avet jerks his thumb to Sevan, who watches the display with a curious smile on her face. “She’s with us, too.”
Sargis blinks as if Avet just told him we partnered up with a two-headed puppy. “You two don’t work with anybody. I don’t understand.”
“Times are changing and so are the jobs. This one’s a head-scratcher, so we needed to bring in the best.”
I point toward the backroom, where I lived with Sargis for five years. “Which is why we need to talk to you in private.”
Sargis straightens. “Absolutely. Come on back, boys. Lady,” he adds, tipping his head to Sevan.
I shouldn’t have stayed away. No matter how badly I wanted my space, I should have stuck it out with my family, where I know I will always have a home.
13
THREE, NOT TWO
Sevan trails behind, clearly not liking the idea of anyone being where she can’t see them. I don’t exactly have a handle on this new member of our exclusive group, but I guess it’s too late to back out now.
Sargis’ backroom is a mix of inventory and living quarters fit for a trapper—which is to say a couch, a go-bag hidden in the end table, a stale meal half-eaten on the small, round kitchen table, and a well-stocked arsenal hidden in parts around the place.
Home sweet home.
His recliner used to be on the other side of the living room, but that space is now taken up by boxes of trapping gear. I shake my head at the fact that Sargis ignored my advice to never let trapping take over the living quarters. Gotta have some separation between life and the job.
The home looks smaller than I remember it. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not thirteen anymore. We had so many good memories in here, coupled with the serious talks a boy needs to hear when his world has been ripped apart by monsters.
Sargis closes the door to the store behind him and brings Avet in for a hug, and then does the same to me. “I’m sorry to hear about Cher, boys. After the way your parents went, Avet, it’s a real shame Cher’s gone.”
Avet’s expression is one of steeling himself so he doesn’t give in to the fear that Cher might be dead. “That’s actually what we’re here to talk to you about.”
Sargis moves a stack of newspapers off the guest chair at the table beside the kitchen. “Here you go, Sevan Aramagyan.”
Her brow raises that he knows her full name. Her mouth stiffens with displeasure. “Let’s not get familiar.”
Sargis chuckles. “Wouldn’t want that. Especially when you’re the trapper who stole the nineteenth-century cursed purse that I sold to Vanig last year. I trust your sticky fingers haven’t gone to work in my store today?”
Sevan raises her hands while she sits in one of the two chairs at the small round table near the kitchen, wiggling her fingers like she’s readying for a vaudeville dance. “I’ve always thought trust was for suckers.”
Sargis narrows one eye at her and then scratches his patchy brown beard that matches the hue of his eyes. He glances up at Avet and me while he takes the other chair at the table, leaving us to stand. “What do you have for me, boys? Other than questionable company.”
Avet smacks the purple diary down on the rickety table. “Read it and weep. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing since we opened the thing.”
Sargis pops open the first page, grimaces, and then slides it back to Avet. “I’m not reading your dead sister’s diary, Avet. That’s morbid, even for me.” Then to Sevan, Sargis explains himself. “Cher used to come around here, asking loads of questions like all little sisters do. Avet and Cher were my unofficial additional children.” He swallows hard. I can tell the sting is still fresh for him. “It’s terrible, Avet. I’m sorry she’s gone.”