“No, no—you did.You did.You... you took care of me, in a way I didn’t think was possible. I wasn’t looking for that—hadn’t even begun to think about... the idea of a relationship that could last, that I would want to last. But it—it was there, and I only really saw it, all of it, that night. How different our lives are, but somehow, how easily they’d started to come together? How you travel too much, and I’d distrust and disparage most of your work, and you’re too rich, and I’d think that’s immoral, and you’d likely find my agitation and activism irritating, and I’d think it’s a corruption of democracy, your business, and it’d be such a cliché, the older man and younger woman, from the outside, but as a person, as people—I don’t think we were that different. I think—I actually think you might be one of the closest people I’ve ever had in my life.”
Aleksandr’s gaze is hard. “And you thought somebody else was going to give you that?”
Lili shakes her head. “That’s not—that’s not what it was about.”
“Who was it, then? Who was worth this?”
“No one,” she insists. “It could have been anyone, it wasn’t about them. I think I just—I knew it was the one thing you wouldn’t forgive.”
“And yet still, you come here, asking for forgiveness?”
“I know,” she whispers. “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” Aleksandr says. “I don’t think you have any idea—any fucking idea—what this sounds like to me—what thisfeltlike, for me. And now, you just show up, with bullshit about apologies and mistakes, afterthree fucking weeks.You didn’t answer a single phone call or text, I had no idea where you were, until this morning. So, no, I don’t think you have any fucking idea, what this felt like.”
“I tried calling you,” she whispers. “A few days after, but you—you’d blocked me.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me, now?”
“Sasha, I—” He flinches. Her throat tightens with tears; a name she can’t use anymore. “Sorry, Aleksandr. I—I... I don’t expect anything from you now, truly. But I just—I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much—”
“Where were you?” he interrupts.
Lili pauses, taken aback by the unexpected question. “France,” she says. “Amina and Jamie were already going, and I—I wasn’t in a good state. After I told Michael.”
“Michael,” he repeats, harsh. “Why did you tell Michael? Why didn’t you talk tomewhen I called?”
“I couldn’t look in your face,” she whispers. “I know that’s cowardly, but I... I didn’t know how I could look at you and face what I’d done. But I’m—I’m trying to tell you, now.”
“For what purpose? Where could we possibly go from here?”
Nowhere, she thinks.There isn’t anywhere. This is done, between us.
She sighs, defeated. “I care about you. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I really do. And I thought I owed this to you. To tell you what I did, and why, even though it was such a mistake. To help you let this go, if that’s what you needed—if you hadn’t already moved on.”
“Move on,” Aleksandr repeats, some twist of spite. “I haven’t fucking moved on. Do you have any idea what I looked like? Losing my head over some twenty-three-year-old child, who’d decided she’d had her fill of a fling, and disappeared? Like a fucking fool, Lili—you made afoolof me—”
He breaks off, hard breath.
“What... what was it like, for you?” she asks, hesitant.
“Why, want a picture of the damage you caused?”
Lili stiffens. Tears sting again at her exhausted eyes. “No, that’s not—that’s—”
Aleksandr glances up. There’s a split second of softness—regret—when he sees her crying. Against his knee, his hand flexes, once.
“I had no idea what happened,” he says, after a few moments. “At first, I thought something happened with your family, again. I had no idea it could be about us, your roommate didn’t seem angry with me. She was just as confused as I was. I was just—God, those first few days were hell, and I had no idea what it was about to become. I couldn’t sleep. I’d go for runs, or keep working, and just constantly—constantly—look at my phone. Thinking about you, if you were alright, if you were safe. That’s... that’s what it was like for me, at first.”
Aleksandr lets out a breath, before he continues. “I kept looking at the space where you’d kept your fucking toothbrush, like some idiot. Like it had something to say. I kept trying to find the tipping point—the gala, I wondered if it was too much, overall. When we’d gotten home, afterwards, and we’d fucked, I thought maybe—for a moment, there—that something was wrong, but I—you said you were alright. When I asked afterwards. You’d said youmissedme.” Incredulity twists his voice, as if disgusted with himself that he’d believed that. “I had so little to go by, until out of the blue, you tell Michael that you’ve fucked someone else. That’s it. For all I knew, you were fucking happy—”
“Did Michael think I looked happy?”
His jaw clenches. “No. But it’s hard to ever really tell what you think or feel.”
“That wasn’t exclusive to me,” Lili replies. Too late, she realizes it sounds close to a retort, and fuck, she didn’t mean to snap at him.
But Aleksandr just shrugs, heavy with concession. “Fair enough,” he says. “I suppose we both failed with that, at different scales.”
