I sighed. Maybe the conversation could be had through a crack in the door instead. It was embarrassing enough.
“Mama, it’s Vitali,” I said.
I didn’t tell her I hadn’t been in contact with him in a month. She would either worry or curse him for all eternity, and I wasn’t sure which I preferred yet.
He must have heard her buzz him in shortly after, because he disappeared the next time I peeked down. Why he even bothered when he already knew the code was anyone’s guess.
I opened the wooden door but only cracked the metal one facing the stair landing, and waited. The elevator’s trembling metallic whine paused on our floor. I braced myself for all the anger that would undoubtedly spill out after the weeks of disappointment I spent by the phone—pathetic and pining over someone who didn’t give me two minutes to let me know they weren’t coming. He somehow found my number—he somehow found my address—and he couldn’t dial the seven digits that would leave him in my good graces?
Obviously, it didn’t matter enough. It was surprising he even showed up now. And embarrassing. For both of us.
“Hello, Katya.”
I cringed and refrained from opening the door further, but God, his voice was so smooth. The kind that you can feel vibrate in your bones.
“I didn’t hear a word from you,” I said, the bitterness in my voice palpable. “Not aword, Vitali.”
“I had to leave on business. It was unforeseen.”
“They don’t have phones where you do business?” I opened the door a sliver to see more of him, including those ridiculous eyes. Or… eye… it wasn’t open that wide.
“I was out of the country. No international calls.”
“And you couldn’t have called before you left?”
“Katya—”
“No need to come back. Don’t call again.” I was angry enough that slamming the door seemed like a good option before he could convince me otherwise, because he was getting there without much effort. Letting him off the hook because he had good excuses was for stupid, stupid girls.
“Be mad if you choose, but don’t think that I forgot you for even a minute.”
Maybe I was a stupid girl after all.
“Katenka, is that him?” Mama poked her head out of the kitchen. “Come in, come in!”
“He’s leaving, Mama,” I said, adamant about the words carrying. “He can’t stay.”
“Come outside,” Vitali said evenly. “We can speak out here.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” I hissed. “A month—it has been amonth. Do you understand how humiliating that is?”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“No!”
“Kotik.” The word came with a note of irritation. The audacity. “This is very heavy, and you need to open the door. I’ll leave after.”
“What is heavy?” I asked and got closer to the crack. I thought I saw flowers, as if that would fix everything. We weren’t in a committed enough relationship for flowers to make it all okay. I owed him nothing.
Perhaps it was my curiosity (it wasn’t), but I opened the door a little wider—just to see better—I told myself.
He raised an eyebrow in a‘you really going to make me wait?’ fashion, and made sure I could see the ridiculously large bouquet of roses in his hand. Yes, very heavy. So heavy. I rolled my eyes they were so heavy. But he shifted, and a large box propped up with one arm against his shoulder came into view.
I was already pushing the door before I reasonably thought about it, and he stepped aside as it swung open.
“For you, this time,” he said with a grin that could melt Antarctica. I took the vibrant red flowers, but frowned, doing what I hoped was an adequate job of pretending I didn’t care.
Mama appeared again with an all too excited ‘ooh!’ The box caught her interest, but she didn’t bring attention to it until, at her insistence, he was already through the door.
