The boys had approached the living room and were rolling on the ground with a meowing Jules.
“What language do they speak?” asked André, raising his voice since I was still in the kitchen.
“They don’t really talk,” I said. “They listen, for now.”
“How can they not be talking? They’re almost two, aren’t they? Ian’s girls were speaking in full sentences at one year,” added my mother-in-law.
“Yes, but Ian’s girls aren’t bilingual, Mom.”
“That’s true… And your brother was late talking, unlike you. I notice nothing has changed in your case…”
I was neither surprised, nor disappointed, nor angry. I cast a cynical look at the clock: it had taken them less than an hour to say something disparaging about the adoption. I looked at the maraschino cherry rolling around the bottom of the glass of 7UP. A mass of little bubbles created a second skin on the fruit. I poured myself a glass of white wine and returned to the living room with the drinks. We said nothing to them about the twins’ withdrawal, it goes without saying.
We looked at each other and raised our glasses, smiles frozen on our lips. “Cheers!”
My mother-in-law tried in vain to get the children to come to her. “Come and see Grandma. Look, I brought you a surprise!” she said.
She reached in her bag and pulled out two coloured yo-yos. The boys rose together as one, looked at her for a moment, and walked over to take the toys.
“We say ‘thank you,’ boys,” I said limply.
Obviously, they didn’t repeat it. Ineptly working the yo-yo, Vanya unrolled the whole string in one throw, causing the metal base to bounce off the floor. Jules leapt on it instantly, clawing at it with glee. The next moment, Daniil unrolled his to give the cat a second quarry. Jules jumped joyfully from one to the other under the crestfallen eye of my mother-in-law. The twins then ran up the stairs, dragging the yo-yos behind them so that Jules would chase them. They had disappeared into their room, but we could still hear the yo-yos knocking against the furniture upstairs. Monique probably expected me to intervene, but I had no intention of saving her crap. If it amused the cat, it would keep them occupied for a moment.
“So it isn’t too much? Two at the same time can’t be easy.”
My mother-in-law was trying to make conversation with me while Gregory and his father discussed hockey.
“No, no, everything’s going fine,” I said nonchalantly.
“They seem a little… wild, don’t they?”
She talked about them as though they were animals. I took a big gulp of wine to calm myself, and said, “They’re just babies. It’s a lot of change for them to adapt to.”
“Sure, sure, but still. They’ve been with you for six months. I was expecting them to be a little more… well… I don’t know… At any rate, they seem very independent. A year and a half is young to be playing alone in their room, isn’t it?”
“These days, it’s considered important that children develop independence. It’s essential for developing leadership skills.”
I didn’t want to credit her words, but I nonetheless wondered what the boys were doing in their room. We hadn’t heard any noise at all for a while. I kept sipping my Riesling.
“Emma, where are the boys anyway? We came here to see them and they’re nowhere to be found!” cried André.
I raised my eyebrows and blinked. André had always been a simple, rude man, and now he had the physique to match his personality.
“But of course,” I said, “You’re missing the main attraction! I’ll go get them.”
He missed my sarcasm, giving me a big, cheerful smile in response. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and went upstairs.
When I opened the door, it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing. The floor was covered in a fluffy substance, like a synthetic snow, in which Jules was playing. What had this stuffing come from? The boys were sitting on their beds, their hair full of tufts. Their stuffed animals—they had decapitated them. The torn casings of the cat and the striped monkey lay on the ground, empty.
I screamed in horror, which brought the others running.
“My God, what is that?”
André and Monique stood in the doorway as though the room was a war zone. I pulled myself together quickly.
“Oh, it’s nothing, just an accident. I’ll go get the vacuum. Don’t worry, boys, we’ll get you more stuffies.”
What’s more, they didn’t seem in the least bit sorry. I cleaned up in a hurry.
“All right, I think everyone is hungry,” I said. “I’ll start dinner. I’m sorry, it won’t be fancy—we weren’t expecting you until tomorrow. We have oysters, and I can make a pasta with fresh tomatoes.”
“The babies eat oysters?” asked Monique, intrigued.
“No, they can’t eat that kind of thing raw. I have smoked salmon for them.”
“Isn’t smoked salmon also raw?”
“No, Monique. Smoked salmon is smoked.”
“Of course, but you see what I mean.”
I didn’t see.
“More 7UP, Monique?” The wine was quashing my inhibitions and I was feeling frisky.
The twins behaved themselves at dinner, even if they didn’t respond to the silly questions their grandparents asked them. Gregory was shockingly low-key. Just as we were finishing up the meal, my mother-in-law announced that they were going to turn in.
“Yes, it’s the babies’ bedtime too,” I said, bursting out laughing.
I’d had a little too much to drink. Gregory stood loudly up from the table to see his parents off. I composed myself and helped the boys down from their chairs.
“Come on, let’s say goodbye to
