The responsibility of more lives lost on Katya Petrovna’s shoulders. Just because I refused to fire that Makarov didn’t mean I didn’t cause them. Just because I refused to do it once didn’t mean I would the second time. That, I had to accept.
But I didn’t have to be the one things happened to. I could make things happen; Vitali gifted me that. Being a bystander in this world was a cheap way to spend your life. I could make it better. I only had to ask.
I slowly lifted the blankets and let my feet down onto the freezing floor, careful not to wake him, but quickly failed when the hard bar of his arm stopped me from sliding off the bed.
“No,” he groaned into the pillow, and pulled me down, tucking me partially beneath his shoulder. I waited for a minute to make sure he’d gone back to sleep, then made another (much sneakier) attempt.
I got the water warming in the kitchen and perched on the window seat above the radiator covered with a wool blanket. Itwould be hard not to think of radiators for a while…
The sunny day after such a long, sharp winter felt like the seasons were shifting. Soon, the ice would thin into crystalline layers atop snowmelt, and then the rains would bring wildflowers to the unpaved courtyards. Russia would wake from deep, weighty sleep.
All the ugliness of humanity could not shut out the coming of spring, but it wasn’t spring yet. We had some time to go, bundled up against the cold.
I needed to find Elena. Call Mama. See how Maxim is doing in school. Figure out what to do about work, because there was no doubt my job was gone, and it didn’t matter how much money Vitali was funneling through his secret channels, I wasn’t going to be the black and white wife on TV mopping to the tune of Soviet cartoons.
But I did need to pick out wallpaper for our new home…
That giddiness silenced everything else. A blank slate to do with as I wished, and I didn’t even know where to start. Granted, it would still be some time before it was ready for that but… I had always been one for daydreams. You have to be when life is cold and gray most of the year.
The kettle murmur grew into a piercing whistle rattling the burner, but just as I turned around, it stopped.
Vitali held it up, still squinty-eyed with hair pressed down in different directions. He was shirtless and infinitely distracting with the low-riding sweatpants resting on his hips.
“Good morning…” he mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Afternoon.” I smiled and hung my legs off the edge, not quite touching the floor.
“You realize I have an electric kettle…” he said, grabbing for the instant coffee on a shelf I could only dream of reaching. “I don’t know why you never use it.”
“I’m old-fashioned.”
He grunted, clearly in no mood.
“Oh, I’m just going to have tea—” I started as he scooped a spoonful into a second mug.
He stared at it, then shoved the whole thing toward me to figure out.
“Are you alright?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach. The morning after losing my virginity was not an ideal time for relationship anxieties.
He rolled a shoulder, focusing on the swirling steam. “Not good thoughts this morning, Kotik.”
“Did I do something wrong?” A stupid question, but instinctual. I would grow out of the habit later on.
“No.” He faced me, leaning against the counter with his fingers tapping the cup. “I have to go in to work soon.”
“Today?”
“I told you, there are parts of my job that aren’t in my control.”
“Vitali…”
He studied me, dragging his gaze from my bare feet to the braless sweater, and finally to my face. “Maybe you can go shopping today. Go see Mama. Take Mama shopping.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Katya.” He rubbed his brow and sighed, then opened his arms. “Come here.”
There was no pride in how fast I slipped off the window seat and tiptoed across the cold, cracked linoleum. He lifted me off the ground and plopped me right onto the counter, remaining between my legs. Having them open at that angle was a stark reminder of how sore I was.
