“Tiramisu, please,” Elena said to the server in a waistcoat.
“Bring another bottle,” Dmitri said. “These women are too beautiful to be cheap.”
Russe sang‘Across the sea I’ll take you dancing…’ through the speakers.
“I’ll be your man, if just in passing,” Elena sang to herself, drunk.
“I need to go home,” I said with no intention to entertain Lyosha’s offer. Elena wouldn’t keep them around forever. I needed only to wait out her attention span.
“You’re always leaving early.” She put a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to get me to sit down, and succeeded. I frowned, but there was something unhappy in her expression that had nothing to do with me.
“The club next,” Dmitri declared, and raised a glass. A bit spilled as his hand trembled.
Lyosha was no less sloppy, but he had that air about him where I just knew he was looking for someone to fight. I’d seenenough men dipped in vodka sitting in alleyways to know that stare. This was no different, just dressed in Adidas instead of pee-stained factory work shirts.
“You like my outfit, Kotik?” he asked, drops of cognac suspended indefinitely in his beard.
This, more than anything, lit that anger in my chest, and this time I didn’t announce it, just stood and grabbed Elena’s arm. She drank enough not to fight me, at least physically.
The protests of her friends faded behind us as I dragged her out the door.
The chauffeurs gave us disinterested glances as we ducked through the collection of Audis and BMWs. It was late—but not too late to catch the bus. A taxi was out of the question, and anyway, we were going to different parts of town.
Elena whined, but I was sober enough for the both of us, hopefully. Her mother would kill her. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but right then, the important thing was getting off the street before we froze.
It took me twenty minutes to feel bad about the evening. Dmitri and Lyosha weren’t any different from anyone else we’d gone out with, and my attitude wasn’t justified. The food had been good, and the liquor expensive (not that it mattered), so why was I so mad?
It took me another twenty-five minutes of the bus ride with Elena slumped across me to finally admit it was because I wanted someone else to be sitting across the table, and despite everything, I was supposed to know better than to think that.
4
Days I’m Gone
“It would be good to wash the bedsheets next,” Mama said, absently stirring the pot of heavenly-smelling chicken soup. The kitchen was still misty with flour from when we rolled out the dough for homemade noodles. Maxim would be back from his swimming lessons soon, and undoubtedly starving. For someone so small, he ate like a pig.
I took the heap of freshly washed laundry and slid the door to the balcony open with my foot. There wasn’t enough space on the clotheslines for bedding if hung up along with everything else.
I reached to grab the clothespins—and nearly dropped it all.
The courtyard had a narrow street, big enough for a single car to squeeze through, but not right then because a large, black Jeep parked at an angle, blocking the way, and it definitely took liberties with the sidewalks while getting there. A tall man in a gray beanie stood beside it with his head tilted back.
“What are you doing here?” I yelled, bending over the railing. God willing, I sounded indignant and not giddy.
“I’m here to see you,” Vitali shouted. His words were a bit muffled by the street noise, but voice deep enough to carry. “Let me up.”
“No!”
“Let me up, Katya.”
“What’s all the shouting!” A neighboring balcony protested. “Fuck!”
“I’m not leaving,” Vitali said. “I’ll get a neighbor to let me in—that nice gentleman seems like it’s in his best interests.”
The other balcony said, “Blyat!”
“Go away,” I insisted.
“Who is it? Who is shouting?” Mama peeked out, brows furrowed, and immediately blaming me.
