“Is this…” I took a deep breath, hoping it would be enough to get my words out without losing consciousness. “Ours?”
“It’s under Misha’s name at the moment. I couldn’t put it under yours without your signature. I want to do this right. You are the one who decides who you want here. If you want Mama, if you want Maxim, or if it’s me—it’s up to you. If you want her a block from here—I’ll make it happen. Just tell me, and give me time.”
The thick glass radiated the winter chill, my reflection floating on its surface. A heavy wool coat, open just enough to see my black-lace dress. Heeled ankle boots and hair done at a prestigious salon. And, further back, Vitali’s tall, masculine frame seated on the piano bench with his arms resting over his legs. Waiting for me.
An hour ago, all I wanted was his hands on me. A week ago, I hated him. A month ago, I hadn’t talked to him in weeks becausehe killed people.
A year ago, I hadn’t even known him. Did I know him now?
Pay attention to all the things about Vitali that don’t make sense,Misha tried to warn me.
This wasn’t a ring; this was worse. I could never afford the apartment on my own—not even the heat. Whenever they decided to pay me a salary, I could maybe keep the water running in this place, forget groceries and clothes. This wasn’t my apartment. It was Vitali’s apartmentfor me.
Not temporary. I’d be promising Mama and Maxim, and all our futures. Tohim.
“Say something,” he uttered hoarsely. My heart thumped, choking me, because I’d been silent longer than I thought.
“I can’t accept this,” I said. I couldn’t turn and look him in the eyes because I knew I was about to hurt him. Time ran out—I couldn’t put off everything I had so diligently ignored. “Unless you tell me everything. I have to know who you are, Vitali, because I am not as patient as you are. I can’t accept this and put my family’s futures on the line.”
His sad, green eyes were the only humanity remaining on his stone-stilled face.
“What do you want to know?” he asked. “What can I tell you that you haven’t heard from others?”
I opened my mouth, but he caught me by surprise, and I wasn’t ready.
“Don’t lie to me, Katya. Don’t act as though Sergei said nothing. As if Misha didn’t already give you my life story. I know what they think of me. You haven’t asked me directly, so I can only assume you believe them.”
“No, I—”
“Either that or you are choosing to ignore it because you benefit from this. I told you, if it’s money you want, I’ll give it to you. No questions. But if you’re asking questions, it makes me think you might want more. Don’t lie to me, Katya. That’s all I ask.”
He already gave me everything. Everything. And I stood there and looked down on him from my pedestal of morality. Knowing that I was madly in love with him, and unable to tell him, because some part of me wanted to be the person who couldn’t be with a killer. Admitting I was willing to look past it all would be admitting I wasn’t as virtuous as I’d been raised.
There he sat, looking up at me with all the veiled sadness in the world, having accepted that I was using him. Willing to buy my love. To be there for me, and my family.
I didn’t even have to ask.
And now, he waited to find out if I was leaving.
“What happened to your parents…” I quietly asked. He dropped his gaze, fingers tapping on his knee.
“I killed them,” he said flatly. “But I know that’s not what you’re asking. They used to hit us, my older sister and I. I haven’t told you about her. She has been dead a long time.”
“I’m sorry—if you don’t want to talk about it—” I was a coward because I asked and then couldn’t help but take the coward’s way out because I hadn’t anticipated it to hurt, but just his tone wrecked me inside.
“It’s fine, Katya. You asked, and you deserve to know. I can’t always tell you the truth, but this time it is my truth to tell.”
I crossed the space between us and knelt on the sawdust-covered floor. He didn’t shake off my hand when I placed it over his.
“We never lacked bruises, and never went a season without a fractured bone. The teachers didn’t care,” he began. “Maria ran out into the courtyard in tears once; it was the middle of February. She had no shoes on. No coat. He’d poured boiling water over her hand. She didn’t make it far, and thankfully there were people nearby who helped her when she collapsed.Our neighbors, who knew what was going on. They heard our screams day after day, for years. She begged them not to make her go back, but they said,‘It’s your papa, it’s your papa,’ and took her home. He didn’t even put on a show for them; he spat in her face, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her inside. Two of the babushkas who lived on the upper floor stayed outside and cried for God to save her. That’s when I learned God can’t see through those steel doors.”
“Oh, Vitali,” I whispered.
“I got the guys together. We planned to gang up on him when he left for a pack of smokes. We were going to kill him, but when he came stumbling out and bellowed at us, they scattered. That’s when I learned that there is no ‘brotherhood.’ I was on my own.”
“What about your sister Dasha?”
“My mother didn’t conceive again. Maria did. She was already working as a prostitute; anything to escape that apartment. The bruises were coming from someone else. I guess it’s somehow better if you know they weren’t meant to care about you in the first place.”
