“Well, but some values aren’t just Western anymore, they’re universal. Democracy, freedom of speech. Things anyone, anywhere, would want.”
“Yes, but no country—certainly not America—is trying to bring democracy and freedom to other countries out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“Isn’t that a bit defeatist?”
Aleksandr shrugs. “Optimism is a young trait. Young countries, young people. It’s a different psyche, a different collective mentality in Russia. Not apathy, per se, but some sense of collective historical exhaustion. History was repressed for so long, so many decades... There’s a caustic sort of bitter humor, dragged out and gray, after having lived through decades of desperation and repression.”
“It sounds like you’re describing complacency. It’s our responsibility to fight for change, elect the government that will help create it!”
“This endless agitation to have your government exactly reflect your own views—isn’t it exhausting?”
“What is government for, then, Sasha?” she asks, voice raising.
Aleksandr grins. She realizes what she’s said a moment too late.
“Sasha, is it, now?” he says.
Lili flushes; she’s only called him that when he’s fucking her to the point of incoherence. “Don’t look so self-satisfied,” she grumbles, fiddling with her napkin. “I just mean, it’s a dangerous line. That disillusionment with government, you get apathetic... it’s great if you can stand on your own two feet, but if you can’t—and if you’re not just white, cisgendered, straight, things get complicated. And human rights are important, no matter where you are—I hear what you’re saying, different historical contexts, but some things should endure across it all, under it all? Like, say—shit, sorry—”
Gesturing wildly, Lili nearly knocks her wine over. Aleksandr laughs, catching the glass before it spills. He kisses her cheek as he rights it, and her face burns. “Thanks,” she mumbles.
He puts his arm around her, pulling her close as they settle back against the banquette. “I hear what you’re saying,” he says. “I’m just not waiting around for it to pass. Not in Russia, not now.”
There’s a buzz in her bag, insistent.
“Sorry,” Lili says, pulling out her phone. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She excuses herself to the bathroom, where she ignores dozens of muted alerts from the group chat, quickly scanning the new text messages direct from Jackie.
(8:35 p.m.) lili!!!
(8:35 p.m.) lili is he back
(8:36 p.m.) liiiiiiiiillllllllllllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
(8:51 p.m.) okay jamie just got here, he says you’re getting laid
(8:55 p.m.) cheering you on!!!!
(9:46 p.m.) hour check-in
(9:46 p.m.) update pls
(9:46 p.m.) screw the gc, but update me
(9:46 p.m.) i’m your favorite li come on
(9:48 p.m.) i’m good, i’ll see you tmr! he got back early, sorry. love you lots
Putting her phone on Do Not Disturb, Lili glances at herself in the mirror. Her eyes gleam, and there’s some warmth in her smile, some argumentative electricity in her blood.
She missed this; she really missed this.
Weaving her way back to their table, Lili spies Aleksandr standing. He’s speaking to someone, a blond woman, with sleek hair that brushes her collarbones, a bright green dress. Earlier, Lili had seen her sitting at another table with a group of friends.
Over the woman’s shoulder, Aleksandr sees Lili approaching.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
