I had never expected to be so enchanted with a child. It was still too early to be completely certain, but to all appearances, Eric was neurotypical. Most of the books I’d read described babies as sensitive to their environments and more attuned to nonverbal communication than adults. Some theorised that as soon as their focus changed to words and accurate descriptions, little children started to ignore their innate ability to read nonverbal cues.
The more I observed Eric, the more I considered that theory. For such an undeveloped human being, Eric was incredibly sensitive to my idiosyncrasies. Most days he climbed on my lap and touched me, but days like today when I felt raw from fighting off a shutdown, he would simply sit tightly against me. He would entertain himself with one of his toys or sometimes he would fall asleep against me. I loved him.
“Food’s on the table, y’all.” Vinnie looked over at us, his expression softening when he saw Eric. He walked over and held out both hands. “Come on, tiny punk. I’ve made your favourite.”
“I swear he’s not my son.” Nikki sat down at the table and pointed angrily at Eric. “His love for your vegetables is just wrong. He should be eating steaks and burgers.”
And so the bantering began. Even though this had been going on in my apartment for years, I still had moments when I was taken aback by it. Ten years ago, my life had been lonely. It had also been safe and predictable. The latter made it much easier for me to cope with my mind so easily overwhelmed by stimuli. Yet I preferred the loud arguments and laughter around the table.
“Tell me about your job, Nikki.” Phillip put another spoonful of lamb curry on his plate and smiled at Nikki. “Excited?”
“Yes and no.” She looked at Eric, sitting in his high chair next to her, his corrugator supercilii muscles contracting his forehead in concentration as he lifted his plastic spoon to his mouth. “It’s going to break my heart putting him into day care.”
“It will help with his social development.” All the books encouraged having infants socialise as soon as possible.
“I know, Doc G. But it’s still going to be hard.” She helped Eric scoop up the mixed vegetable stew Vinnie frequently made for the baby and held Eric’s hand as he brought the spoon to his mouth. Her smile was soft when she turned back to look at Phillip. “I’m really excited about being part of the restoration team at the museum. When I went to uni, I never thought that was where I would end up.”
“Where did you think you would go?” Phillip asked.
“I don’t know.” She glanced at me, her smile embarrassed. “I was young and full of myself. I knew my trust fund would pay out when I turned twenty-five and thought I would just study something until I had enough money to do what I wanted.”
“You’re still young.” Yet I considered her wise beyond her years. With Phillip’s help, she’d managed to get the courts to release the trust fund money five months ago. I’d been asked to appear as a character witness. The judge had been convinced by the many respected professionals who spoke in Nikki’s favour. She’d received the money and since proven herself to be very responsible with it.
“And you’re still full of yourself.” Vinnie laughed when Nikki pointed her knife at him, her angry expression fake.
“Now I have all that money and I’m glad I do. It’s an amazing security blanket that will help me take care of Eric. But I want to work. I’m excited about working at the museum.” Her dilated pupils and the lifting of her cheeks confirmed her words. “I’ve been interning there on and off for the last two years, so it’s not like I don’t know anyone there. Or like I don’t know what I’ll be doing.”
“You’ll be great.” Colin winked at her, then turned to the front door as it opened.
“Food!” Francine rushed in and threw her coat over Nikki’s. Then she hopped from one foot to the other as she removed her knee-high red leather boots. “I’m hungry. I need food. Feed me!”
“She’s been driving me bonkers.” Manny took off his coat and put it on a hanger next to mine. He glowered at the overflowing tree of colourful coats and sighed. “Completely bloody bonkers.”
Francine rushed over to the table and pulled the curry dish closer before she even sat down. “Ooh, yay. Food that will feed me and make me warm. I love you, Vinster.”
“Yeah, yeah. They all say that.” Vinnie’s chest expanded slightly as he watched Francine and Manny fill their plates with enthusiasm. I didn’t need my degrees in psychology to see that he enjoyed cooking, but his real reward came from people enjoying his food.
“Where’s Pink?” Manny looked at the empty seat.
“Still at the crime scene with Dan.” Vinnie handed Manny the salad bowl. “He said he’ll be in late. I’ve fixed him a plate and it’s waiting in the oven for him.”
“I miss Roxy.” Francine sighed dramatically. “I miss bitching about her horrid shoes.”
I shook my head. Their melodrama could be most vexing. Doctor Roxanne Ferreira was an internationally respected infectious disease specialist and Vinnie’s girlfriend, her love for him genuine and unconditional. She was disorganised, messy and notoriously tardy. Yet I enjoyed her company. “She’s been gone only two days.”
“I know!” Francine leaned over and patted Vinnie’s hand. “You poor thing. You must be suffering something terrible. And what? She’ll be gone another week?”
“Five days.” Vinnie caught Eric’s spoon a moment before it was going to fall from his little hand and put it back in the plastic plate. “She’s enjoying her conference, and no, I’m not suffering.”
Manny grunted and slumped in his chair. He too had a low tolerance for the melodrama far too often enjoyed during dinner. He turned to Colin. “Tell me more about this Robot person.”
“What robot person?” Nikki looked from Manny to Colin. “Do you have a case with artificial intelligence? How cool!”
“Not robot.” Colin turned away from Manny in disgust and looked at Nikki. “Roubaud. As in Franz Roubaud.”
“What?” She jumped in her chair and turned to Colin, her eyes wide. “You have a case with Roubaud paintings? Ooh! Ooh! He’s like only my most favourite panoramic painter. Ever!”
Manny sighed. “Tell me about him.”
Nikki put her knife and fork down, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “Franz Roubaud was born in Odessa—Ukraine, for those who don’t know where Odessa is—to a French family. That was in 1856. He spent a lot of time in Germany organising exhibitions for Russian artists. Then he lived in St Petersburg and taught for many years at the St Petersburg Academy of Arts. But he loved Germany, so it wasn’t a huge surprise that he went back to Germany in his later years and died there.”
“His art?” Francine looked at Colin. “What are the panoramics Nix talked about?”
“Robert Barker was the one to introduce the world to these amazing works of art.” Colin straightened, his face animated. “These are massive paintings displayed in specially built round buildings called rotundas. The painting goes all around the internal walls, depicting different kinds of scenes, often military battles, historical events or landscapes.”
“It was the earliest virtual-reality, 3D art exhibition.” Nikki smiled. “They were hugely popular in Europe and the US in the nineteenth century. Unfortunately, not all of these survived, but there are still quite a few on display.”
“Roubaud became famous because of his giant panorama paintings,” Colin said. “They had to build pavilions just to exhibit them. His love for Russia and Russian history came through in his art. A lot of his works are associated with the Caucuses. One of his famous paintings, The Battle of Elisavetpol, shows a scene from the Russia-Persian war near the Askerna River. He seemed to have a thing for the Russia-Persia conflicts.”
“Now that was an interesting time in history.” Nikki wiggled in her chair. “Of course it was also a horrible time, like any time of war. It was the fourth of five conflicts between the then Persian Empire and Imperial Russia. Of all five, this one was the longest and lasted nine years.”