To make this work, he had enlisted several of the team members to receive deliveries so that Petyr would have to pass by specific areas or buildings on his way. It would mean longer delivery times, but his son never really complained.
Petyr came into the shop to pick up his packages for the day. He smiled at his father. “How many today, Father?” he asked.
“About twenty today. There’s a new one for a Mrs. Jankowski. She lives over in district six. The directions are on her bag,” Kursov said calmly.
A hurt look came over Petyr’s face. “But that’s about seven kilometers from here,” he complained. “I won’t get back for a while.”
“Our reputation is growing and it has to be done. Once you get your license next year, you will be able to use our car. Until then, you must pedal,” he said sternly. “Besides, your new girlfriend can wait.”
Petyr shrugged his shoulders and picked up the basket of bags. Going out the side door of the shop he saw Freda coming in from school. He waved at her. “Looks like I may be a little late this evening. One of my deliveries is seven kilometers away,” he said sadly.
“Seven kilometers!” Freda exclaimed. “That’s a long way to deliver medications,” she said.
He shrugged again. “I guess it has to be done. Do you have to cook tonight?”
Freda nodded. “Papa said he wants me to have more time for myself, but our timing is a little off. Are we still going to the park this weekend?” she asked.
Petyr’s face broadened. “As far as I can tell. Father said he would make the deliveries on Saturday if we wanted to go, but that means I must still do it for the rest of the week. I just hope I’ll be able to sit with you for a while tonight,” he said smiling.
“I’ll wait for you after supper,” she said with a wink.
Smiling broadly, he waved good-bye and began making his way down the street. The first few deliveries were in the neighborhood. Mrs. Kletchner rewarded him with some home baked cookies while Mr. Jenski tried to get him into a conversation about the suicide in the news. Each of the customers knew him well and it made the job go quickly in most cases. The ride to deliver to Mrs. Jankowski seemed to take forever, although Petyr was surprised to see a lot more planes at the air base as he rode by. It appeared there were more of the new sleek fighter planes parked along the runway and several were circling overhead as they got ready to land.
Mrs. Jankowski seemed a little cold when he knocked on her door. She grabbed the paper package, grunted and handed over the payment without saying a word. As the door was closing, he saw her throw the bag onto a small table at the entrance and keep walking. With a sigh, Petyr climbed back onto his bike and began the long trip home. By the time he returned, it was getting dark. He entered the shop and gave his father the pouch he carried with all the payments he had collected. Kursov could tell his son was tired.
“How was the trip?” Kursov asked quietly.
Petyr shrugged. “That delivery to Mrs. Jankowski was a killer. The only thing that broke up the ride was getting to see all the planes at the air base.”
Kursov eyed his son. “Really? What was going on?”
“There are a lot more planes there than I remembered. As I passed by there must have been over a hundred parked along the runway. There were even some coming in for a landing. I love watching them fly,” he said with the enthusiasm of most young men when watching the jets dart across the sky.
That was just the kind of information Kursov needed. He acted as if it were nothing. “Well, at least you will get to see them every so often. Mrs. Jankowski is scheduled to get a package at least once each week. I guess her doctor is watching how she does,” he said as he worked on another order. “Now get some dinner. If you hurry, she may be waiting,” he said with a slight smile.
Petyr grinned back and made his way upstairs where his mother gave him a hug. “Hard day?” she asked sincerely.
“Pretty tough,” Petyr said. “Father sent me on one run way out past the air base.”
“That far? Then you must be hungry. Call your brother and sister to supper.”
Petyr called out to his siblings who came bolting out of their rooms. Camille was just seven and she sprung into Petyr’s arms for her usual hug before sitting down. Sasha, thirteen, went straight to his seat. Nothing ever got in the way of him and his food. After a quick prayer, everyone began eating.
Sasha looked up between bites. “You going out to see Freda again tonight?” he asked with a sly look.
Mrs. Kursov gave him a stern look. “Sasha, mind your manners. You wouldn’t want him asking you about what you do with someone,” she scolded.
“But Mom, he’s been going down there for the last week. I’d say he was keeping her busy,” Sasha said with glee.
“It’s okay, Mom. He’s just jealous,” said Petyr with a laugh.
“She’s pretty,” said Camille. “Why don’t you bring her up here?” she asked.
“I will, someday. As long as Sasha behaves,” Petyr grinned.
“Are you two still going into town tomorrow?” his Mom asked.
“We plan to. We might also go down to the pool and get a little swim. We could both stand to get out some,” he said.
“He just wants to see her without clothes on,” Sasha said under his breath. He was smacked on the head for his troubles.
“Sasha!” he mother exclaimed as she whacked him. “You are getting disgusting. One more remark like that and you will go straight to bed!” she admonished. She turned back to Petyr. “You should go and have a good time. Never mind this one,” she said giving Sasha another glare.
Petyr shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember what he said when he starts dating.”
“Could I go with you?” Camille asked quietly.
Petyr smiled. “Not yet. I need to get to know Miss Freda a little more first. But we’ll take you with us sometimes. I think Freda would like to meet you,” he said to his sister.
Camille broke into a big smile. “That would be fun!” she exclaimed.
The rest of the meal was spent talking about school and other things, then while his mother went to take over from his father in the shop, Petyr did the dishes. Mr. Kursov sat down and talked to his children while he ate. By the time Petyr had finished, the rest of the dishes, his father handed over his plate.
“Your honey is down at the bench,” called out Sasha from the front window.
“Sasha!” shouted Kursov. But the look in his eye betrayed the fun of what was happening.
Petyr excused himself and made his way downstairs. True enough, Freda was sitting on the bench waiting for him. In the week they had been talking Petyr had grown quite fond of Freda. The prospects of taking her out for a day together thrilled him more than anything else. He sat down next to her on the bench.
“So I’m your honey, huh?” she quipped. Then she let out a laugh he had come to really enjoy. It meant she was okay with the idea. She turned and looked up at the window. “Hi, Sasha,” she called out.
They heard the window close with a bang. Now both were laughing.
“Sorry about that,” Petyr said as he took her hand.
“Sasha is like my brother. At that age, they think more with their hormones than with their brains. Maybe later we will take the two of them along,” Freda said.