Chapter Six:

“Hey Russki. Can’t sleep?”

Damn.

I turned from where I’d been scavenging in my refrigerator to find Brody rubbing her eyes groggily. The white and grey baseball style shirt she wore rode up a little bit as she approached me in a state of mild confusion. I clutched my prize, a leftover baked potato from last night’s dinner in my hand, and closed the door softly. Once again, we were bathed in darkness.

“I’m not tired. Smoke?” I brought my closed index and middle fingers to my lips to further illustrate the question. Brody nodded and stepped aside so I could lead us to the small back patio. I love hand signals. They help out so much.

“Use mine.” Brody shoved a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes into my free hand and flicked the patio light on. Francine can’t stand my smoking habit, and we’ve argued many times over it. I started young, at thirteen years old, and have never found the emotional strength to quit. I keep telling myself one day I’ll just put them down, but today isn’t the day.

Given all the craziness happening lately, the rest of the year isn’t looking good either.

I sat my cold potato on the white plastic chair beside me and lit up. That first taste of nicotine regulated my breathing, and I blew a ring over my shoulder. I’m so used to it I hardly even cough anymore. Brody eased into her seat, spreading her long legs out and motioning for the pack of smokes. I tossed them over and studied her profile as she eagerly dug in to the package. She was a striking woman in every sense. Her features were exaggerated, and I envied her height most of all. I’m not used to feeling self conscience, but Brody made me feel much smaller than I already am and not nearly as beautiful. She’s loud, and outgoing. The first to crack jokes and always making light of poor circumstances. I found her obnoxious at first, but despite our differences I’ve enjoyed being in her company overall. I heard about Francine passing out in public the day I tried to leave her, and how Brody was by her side through everything even though they hardly knew each other at the time. She’s a good person to have in your corner when you need her.

“Are you ok?” She caught me staring into space, and I shook my head at the concrete beneath us. I wasn’t alright, and there wasn’t any use in lying. My friends always knew when something was off with me. I didn’t know enough English to tell her what happened with my mom though, and I’d been sworn to secrecy by Olivia to not utter a word about Charlotte’s betrayal. In this case, I bit my lip and took another drag. The bright orange embers kept me mesmerized, and I was almost able to ignore Brody’s questioning gaze.

“What happened? You know you can tell me anything dude. We’re friends after all.” Her voice was kind. Trusting my gut instinct, I decided I’d give it a try. The worst that could happen is I wouldn’t be understood, and I was used to that.

“It’s fucked. My situation.” I glanced up to see if Brody was following along. She leaned forward, and I scrambled to put my thoughts into intelligible English sentences. “Mom...in Russia. I never knew her. She...left me alone. Now she wants to see me.” I started getting emotional again, and I stopped myself from saying anything else. Every time I talk about this, I sink to the bottom of my mind with grief. It was almost two in the morning by the time I finally stopped crying, and as exhausted as my body had been, I couldn’t will myself to fall asleep beside Francine. My growling stomach brought me to the fridge, and that’s when Brody appeared in the kitchen. It seems like I’d just gotten a chance to forget about Evgeniya, and here I was confronted with what to do about my circumstance yet again.

“Do you want to see her?” Brody crushed her cigarette in the stained glass ashtray by her feet and regarded me with a sympathetic expression. I frowned, hoping I conveyed what I was feeling in my heart.

Pure, unrelenting hatred.

“No.” Came my simple reply. “I don’t need her...” I willed myself to look unaffected. Francine always says if I tried my hand at poker, I’d lose everything we own with my bright red ears. I felt them now, and knew there was no way in hell Brody believed me.

“I get it, but...it might be a good thing to go see your mom.” Had I been talking with Olivia, she might have nodded in understanding. Charlotte probably would have embraced me tightly. I know Liza would have offered gentle words of encouragement, and Francine supported me no matter what I decided to do or how I felt about something. But the fact is of all people, I was talking to Brody, and Brody spoke her mind constantly. I couldn’t be angry, but she didn’t understand. I shrugged indifferently.

“I’m going next month. For my dad, not her.” It was a decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret. I paused for a second to lick my lips. “How’s Liza? And you...you’re nervous?” I was referring to her upcoming mission in the military. I didn’t have a chance to ask her privately, and wanted to know if she needed to talk about it. Any of it.

“Oh yeah, that.” Brody scoffed and crossed her arms, looking away. I blushed and quickly stared at my hands. I wondered if I said something to make her angry. A few minutes passed between us before she spoke again.

“I love America. I’m proud to be apart of the Navy...but I finally found something worth staying in town for.” I could tell by the sparkle in her hazel eyes she meant Liza, and I felt my lips curve into a smile. They were perfect together. Two very headstrong people who loved each other passionately and deeply. I didn’t know what Brody’s life was like before they met, and maybe that was for the best. Sometimes the happiest people are running from some dark shit. “I’d never turn away from my crew, or my country...but I hate that I have to leave Liza here.” She sounded stressed, and sad. I wanted to console her but I wasn’t sure how. Not wanting to remain silent, I took one final puff from my cigarette and nodded grimly.

“I understand.” Those two words meant more than anything else I could have said, and I think Brody sensed it as we rose to go back inside because she reached over and squeezed my arm. Just as I was shutting the sliding door behind us, I heard my bedroom door creak open.

“Mmm....Vasilisa?” Francine mumbled drowsily. She emerged wearing one of my plain white tee shirts and a tiny pair of black satin shorts. Brody made her way back to Liza, who was stirring in her sleep on our couch and I showed my girlfriend the long forgotten potato I intended to devour twenty minutes ago.

“I got hungry.” I purposely didn’t mention the smoking in case she was in a grouchy mood.

She stared at the shriveled morsel, then cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Looks delicious. I’ll bet you’re dying to eat it.” Sarcasm looked good on her, but now wasn’t the time to point that out. I knew she smelled the smoke on us.

“I asked her to come out back with me, France. She totally was planning on eating that potato just so you know.” Brody dishonestly vouched for me quietly with a snicker.

Francine shook her head like she usually did at anything Brody had to say, and grabbed my wrist gently. “Come on, detka. I was worried about you.”

I kissed her cheek fondly and offered her a tender smile. “I know bunny, I’m ok, see?”

“Thank God. Let’s go back to bed, Vash.” My girlfriend relented, and pulled me into our bedroom yawning.

“Goodnight, Brody.” I turned around, and watched our friend nod at us before settling in beside Liza to stroke her curly red hair. I hoped she’d be able to rest her mind enough to fall back asleep.

********************

I tossed and turned for another half hour, but couldn’t get comfortable. Francine tried rubbing my back because it usually helps, but it only made me more restless. At one point, I forced myself to eat the potato I’d retrieved from the refrigerator an hour ago and curled into a ball on my side of our large bed. Weight shifted beside me, and then I felt a hand shake my shoulder halfheartedly.

“Detka? Talk to me, please...” Francine’s voice was hoarse, and it alarmed me. I turned to face her as she began to cry. “I couldn’t take your pain away...I’m always able to make everything better...but I can’t this time and it’s killing me.” She looked so tired, and it broke my heart. I know I’d been closed off, it was just so much to deal with at once. I sat up to hold her against my chest and rocked back and forth, just like she did for me in the kitchen only hours before.

“My favorite, it’s not your job to fix me. Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Francine’s fragile arms wrapped around my neck and she buried her face into my shoulder. I waited until her sobs faded into sniffling, and I continued.

“Early next month, I’m going back to Siberia for a week. My mom doesn’t approve of our relationship. For your safety, I need you to remain here, detka. Don’t worry, I’m staying with my dad. I thought about this constantly and decided I need to talk to Evgeniya in person. None of this makes sense. I need to understand everything, for the sake of my father.” I stopped rocking, and my beloved’s bewildered brown eyes blinked back tears.

“When are you leaving exactly? What dates? I want to come too, I’ll ask for the time off.” Her determination was endearing, but I couldn’t allow it. If anyone suspected something romantic was happening between us, she could get hurt. With my mother knowing everything now, I refused to risk it. I’d never forgive myself if a single hair on my girlfriend’s head was harmed.

“You were right, Francine. Russia is a dangerous country for gay people...trust me when I tell you I must go alone. Please. I’m not trying to shut you out.” I kissed the top of her head roughly, and she tightened her hold on my neck. She didn’t like my answer, but I knew she understood. It was for that very reason we were living in America together now.

“I love you, little bat.” Her voice quivered, and I laid her against our pillows, kissing and nibbling the lips of my whole wide world. Her nearly blonde hair fanned out around us, creating an almost gold sheen. “I support you...I’ve told you that. Just be safe. That’s all I ask.” I’ve read about unconditional love before. I’ve watched films about it, listened to countless love songs in which the artist confessed their endless affections for their beloved. I dreamed of it for myself, but never once dared to believe I deserved it. Because of Francine, I knew how warm it felt now. For all her nagging, complaining, whining and micromanaging, I knew it was done out of love. I realized the moment she broke down all because she couldn’t silence my tears earlier that Francine’s love knew no boundaries.

I stared into my girlfriend’s eyes, silently giving her my word that everything would be fine. “Of course, detka.” I stroked her hair until she succumbed to the sensation, and at long last we both found comfort in each other’s embrace long enough to let sleep consume us.