Monogamy Book One. Lover: This is one love for life and beyond time

by Victoria Sobolev

  Suddenly, I hear his voice, sharp and metallic, unrecognisable from how it used to be, ‘I’ll do what you want, but you have to leave here right now, close the door behind you and never come back.’

  It’s as if a poisoned spear has been thrust into my chest, but I’m not here to worry about my own feelings – I have a job to do.

  ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

  ‘Don’t push it. I want to be here alone; you’re bothering me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to annoy you,’ I explain, ‘but you know why I’m here and I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll become invisible if necessary – you won’t see me or hear me – but I need to make sure that I didn’t come here for nothing!’

  ‘Your very presence is annoying me! I already told you, I want to be alone!’

  The hurt is suffocating, tears blind me. Naively, I had really hoped that he wouldn’t be able to reject me, not listen to me. I wanted to believe I had a special power over him. I try to get a grip so that Alex won’t notice my tears, God forbid, but the more I try to calm myself down, the more they fall from my eyes and down my cheeks.

  Despite the lack of light, Alex sees my reaction and it seems to soften him somewhat because, in the gentle voice that is so painfully familiar, he adds, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw you out onto the street. We’ll sort something out... I’ll book you into a hotel.’

  He glances around the room for his phone and finds it lying abandoned on the floor by the settee. And while he makes the call, I greedily drink in the tone of his voice and his beautiful English, unable to tear my eyes away from his leaner figure: hidden under the blue t-shirt and jeans is a body that is as perfect as it ever was. Alex has lost weight and become paler, but he is still divine. I want to put my arms around him, touch him, cover his face with kisses, finally inhale the smell I desire so much. But we have never been further away from each other as we are at this moment.

  The car he ordered arrives a short while later and I leave, but I still have Maria’s key fob – Alex never took it back.

  CHAPTER 16. FOUR DAYS

  *** ‘Whispering Wind’ by Moby ***

  The next morning, I decide to save some money and take the bus to Alex’s instead of a taxi (which, for me, costs about the same as a trip to the moon). I’m not afraid of being pushy and even annoyingly persistent when I need to be: any means justify the end, especially when it comes to what I’m here for, and my loss of pride is an unavoidable sacrifice.

  I spend more than an hour acquainting myself with Seattle’s public transport system, another hour finding the right bus, and yet another hour getting the ferry to Bainbridge Island.

  As I walk briskly down the road leading to Alex’s glass palace, an expensive-looking black SUV drives past me, then pulls to a stop.

  As I get nearer, I see Alex sitting behind the wheel: he is on his way home. In dark stylish sunglasses, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and blue jeans, he looks so spectacular that it even makes me doubt the truth of why I’m here. I can’t help wondering which one of us I’m trying to help with my meddling: him or me.

  ‘You again?’ he says, smiling. ‘I thought we had a deal! I’m keeping my word!’

  There are no other circumstances in which my pride would tolerate such rudeness except these.

  ‘So you’ve had the operation?’ I enquire.

  ‘No, next week. On Tuesday. If I die on the operating table, just remember: it will all be thanks to you!’ he jokes, but I don’t laugh.

  ‘The US medical system is the best medical system in the world!’ I blurt out, like a boy scout at a meeting.

  ‘Oh, really?!’ he replies with a nervous laugh.

  There is already more life in him than yesterday, and he’s clearly in better spirits. Suddenly, Alex reaches over to open the passenger door and I take it as an invitation. I don’t need to be asked twice, although I can’t help thinking to myself that he ALWAYS used to get out of the car to open the door for me.

  ‘Put your seatbelt on!’ he orders.

  Abruptly, carelessly, Alex swings the car around and starts driving away from his amazing house. And I so wanted just one more look at it!

  *** ‘Money, Power, Glory’ by Lana Del Rey ***

  My whole essence, my whole being, from the spiritual all the way to the physical, is melting at the sight of how sexy Alex looks behind the wheel. His naked forearms and exquisite hands are like a natural extension of this chic car. The watch on his wrist, which is truly beautiful, leaves little doubt that its owner is not just successful, but in a class of his own.

  The windows are open, and the wind ruffles our hair. With a barely perceptible smile, Alex glances at me to check if I’m scared, then continues to accelerate.

  My heart stops beating. Not from fear – I have no concept of it at this exact moment – but because I suddenly realise just how much, how passionately, how hopelessly I love this man. Never before have I been so acutely, so painfully aware of this as I am right now. I put on my sunglasses to hide my eyes, just as he is hiding his.

  We are racing along the highway, wildly over the speed limit, ears deafened by the music blasting out of the car stereo, but Alex is such a confident driver that I trust him with my life, no question. I don’t think he’s trying to impress me, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

  Alex has changed and is absolutely nothing like how I remember him: he speaks differently, lives differently; he’s not the same, but I like him even more.

  The day is crazy. We have lunch in a restaurant, then meet up with some of his friends, then some others, and finally we end up in a club where we can see each other but can hardly hear a thing over the music. Alex introduces me to friend after friend who all look at my face and clothes in surprise, checking me out, especially the girls. Their glamour makes me feel self-conscious, inadequate, but the thing I find most irritating is that they all kiss him in greeting, and it’s mostly on the lips.

  When a stunning, voluptuous woman with long legs, golden skin and huge blue eyes walks over to us, I brace myself for the pain to come. Expensively dressed, self-assured, and beautiful in every way, it’s like she has been sculpted out of golden wax: there isn’t a single flaw on her body, and her gorgeous, naturally blond hair tumbles down her naked back. If I was a man, I would want her with every fibre of my soul... and not just my soul.

  My admiration is interrupted by Alex’s voice.

  ‘Lera, this is my wife, Hannah. She’s Polish and can speak Russian,’ he says, smiling, and Hannah nods at me then leans over and gives her husband a long, sexy kiss. I find the act as beautiful as it is painful. Hannah and I are absolutely nothing alike. I mean, she’s in a different league. Even if I visited every plastic surgeon in the world, I would never be as beautiful as her.

  I smile and stoically keep my face blank, but inside I can feel despair corroding my soul like acid. Now more than ever I’m aware of the ridiculousness of my affair with Alex, my insignificance and ugliness compared with the two of them, the endless abyss between us. We are from different worlds, our lives only colliding for a moment by some inexplicable coincidence. I want to disappear, to vanish, to simply melt away without a trace.

  But I can still remember how he used to kiss me: the tenderness of his soft, warm lips; the caress of his tongue, which I have only ever experienced with him; his breathing mixed with my own; the sweetness... He was sweet to the taste, his mouth like sugar, always.

  Alex pulls away from his wife and looks at me, and there is something incomprehensible in his gaze. It seems to touch my heart, which is throbbing with the pain of losing something forever that once belonged to me alone – feelings. His feelings.

  Before long, Hannah moves away to join her friends, most of whom are men. Many are attractive, standing proud but laid-back, their sculpted bodies dressed in expensive, ultra-stylish clothes. Everyone, the men and the women, seems to be covered in a gloss of admiring glances, just like in Tolstoy’s War and
Peace. Successful, beautiful, arrogant, they are admiring of each other and of themselves.

  Alex and I say nothing, my encounter with Hannah driving us even further apart, although our souls were already infinitely removed from each other. Suddenly, I see Hannah kiss one of the men on the lips. Alex catches my eye and, although I say nothing, he answers my unspoken question.

  ‘Hannah is a model, it’s part of her life.’

  ‘And you’re okay with that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Two reasons: one – I don’t really care, if I’m brutally honest; and two – as her husband, I owe her something that I will never be able to give.’

  ‘Why never?’

  ‘Because I already gave it away a long time ago.’ He falls silent for a moment, then adds quietly: ‘To another woman.’

  *** ‘Never Let You Down’ by Woodkid ft. Lykke Li ***

  The moment of truth. Alex looks at me so intently that it’s as if he’s desperately trying to repeat what he just said with his eyes. His confession – awkward, rushed, unexpected – completely throws me. I feel like I’m hurtling through the abyss between us at lightning speed, and my heart can now touch his.

  ‘As you can see, I haven’t had much luck creating a family like you told me to...’

  He has done everything I said. I threw a barbed comment at him on the spur of the moment and he caught it, acted on it: irrationally, foolishly, unsuccessfully. But I did genuinely want him to be happy...

  His eyes betray him. I see both myself and his feelings in them, as strong as five years ago, and I am suddenly filled with shame and hurt for everything I’ve done. My own eyes widen as I perceive his extreme loneliness and despair in this world of money, beauty, and power. I can sense his pain with every fibre of my being and with all of my heart: neither his hypocritical friends nor his perfect wife care about him, his illness or his soul.

  There is perspiration on his forehead, under his short fringe. Alex closes his eyes for a second, then abruptly stands up.

  ‘I need the washroom... I won’t be long,’ he says. ‘Wait here for me, don’t go anywhere.’

  I watch as he walks away and can see that he’s finding it difficult. He is clearly unwell, in physical pain, and is trying to hide it. I follow him and watch from afar, but not out of curiosity: someone should be with him in case he suddenly loses consciousness.

  Alex goes into the men’s washroom, but there’s no door where the sinks are and I watch as he performs what is obviously a familiar ritual: swallowing tablets from the small white bottle, washing them down with water from the tap, then rinsing his face and, head lowered, resting his hands on the granite countertop. He stands like that for a while, unmoving, then, when he feels better, he rinses his face again and stares at his reflection in the mirror.

  My eyes are filling with tears. The pain is ripping my heart to pieces, the desire to rush to him, embrace and hold him, stop his physical suffering, take some of it myself, burn it all away, is squeezing me like a vice.

  But we are strangers now and Alex obviously wasn’t that thrilled at my arrival. So, not brave enough to invade his personal space, I return to my seat – he mustn’t know that I saw him. Alex is no longer a sex god, he is seriously ill and, for the first time in my life, I am scared to my very core.

  *** Celestial’ (ft. Charlene Soraia) by Hiatus ***

  Alex returns soon after and there isn’t a trace of pain on his face, not a hint of what I saw just a few minutes earlier, and I realise how good he is at hiding what he wants to keep hidden.

  ‘I want to show you something,’ he tells me, with a smile that is both warm and difficult to read.

  We take a lift up many floors, then climb a few more flights of stairs on foot until we’re on the roof. A mesmerising panorama unfolds below me: hundreds of thousands of lights, large and small, bright and colourful, combine to create a breathtaking mosaic of a night-time metropolis. The city where I once refused to live. The city of the man who built me a house I never saw.

  The beauty of Seattle conquers my heart, filling me with a burning desire to become a part of its stunning organism. Alex watches me with the same unreadable smile, his previous rudeness and distance replaced by a quiet contemplation. He never stops looking at me, as if mentally taking my hand and leading me through his life, showing me everything that was hidden by circumstances, that he hid deliberately, and that I so confidently said ‘no’ to five years ago.

  It seems that only now do I really recognise him. I quietly watch as he strips his soul bare in front of me, allowing me to see his vulnerability. I don’t know if it’s his words or his eyes, but Alex is no longer in a different league, we are of the same flesh and blood.

  We have another four days ahead of us. They are all good days and we spend them together, strolling through the streets of Seattle and wandering along the coast with its huge breaking waves. Alex doesn’t take his eyes off me, a small smile never leaving his face, but he says little and doesn’t touch me once, dropping me off each night at my hotel. We briefly stop by his city apartment where he lives with his wife. It is absolutely nothing like the one we used to meet up in and has little in common with his house on the coast. There is no sense of comfort and the rooms are filled with pretentious furniture. It is completely out of character with the Alex I once knew, who appreciated beauty, sophistication, technology, and large open spaces.

  *** ‘Habits’ by Uğur Dağıdır ***

  Later, I will discover that, in the years since we parted, my former lover has become a successful businessman and now owns a selection of design and construction companies with offices scattered around the world, thousands of employees, and tons of responsibility. I will also find out that, at the age of twenty-two, Alexander Sobolev graduated from Harvard with flying colours after taking two programmes at the same time: Architecture and Design Engineering. And in the five years we were apart, he managed to get a diploma in management and finance and grow up in every way. He is a skilful horse rider, plays tennis and volleyball, is a skilled diver and swims magnificently, and there isn’t a spot on the map he hasn’t visited. Yet despite all this, he still seems to love me – ordinary, unexceptional me – with all his heart, no matter what.

  This enigma will torment me for many years to come. I just won’t be able to find the answer to what seems like the simplest of questions: what does he see in me? What? It is important for me to know, critical for my inner peace. The understanding would give me confidence and the ability to accept myself in his world, to find my place in it, because otherwise our relationship, our love, is doomed. Why me? Why did he choose me out of the thousands of beautiful, educated, feminine women he could have had? I had a few ideas, but none were convincing enough to bring me any peace.

  Alex stops being so rude and abrupt, he doesn’t send me away, and my feelings for him, buried deep down in the depths of my soul, trampled on and cut to pieces again and again, begin to heal, then grow and flourish with renewed vigour. Filled with pain and hunger, his eyes drive me crazy. I constantly want to touch him, to hold him, but I have no right.

  Alex is different now: he has aged not just on the outside, but on the inside too. His eyes are still intelligent and deep, but there is something else there now, too, something elusive that has changed him. His gaze is also completely different. The pain of despair and hopelessness that I used to see in his eyes seems to have morphed into a kind of melancholic wisdom, a detachment and alienation that has saturated his being to such an extent there is absolutely no room left for joy and happiness, not a single unfilled corner of his complex soul. His tenderness, childish playfulness, joie de vivre, determination, and inexhaustible thirst for learning has yielded to a demanding, miserable, subdued adulthood. The last five years have destroyed the Alex I once knew and turned him into a stranger. The four days pass quickly and by the time they are over, I have changed, too: new priorities, different values.

  We say goodbye late on t
he Monday evening, sitting in his car.

  ‘Can I come tomorrow?’ I ask him.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the hospital. With you.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But it’s not like I’ve got anything else to do. I’m here on my own and, apart from you, I don’t know anyone,’ I plead.

  ‘Go for a walk... but only during the day and stay close to your hotel, don’t wander too far. You don’t know your way around and there are some rough neighbourhoods.’

  ‘Dangerous ones?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but don’t go on your own just in case...’

  After a fairly long pause, I try again.

  ‘I don’t want to go anywhere. Let me be there for you, Alex!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But that’s why I came here!’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘No.’

  We sit in silence again, staring ahead at the light drizzle on the windscreen and the hotel’s yellow lights reflected in it. I’m scared to open the car door and step out into the unknown. Will he survive the operation? Will he come round from the anaesthetic? What if this is our last conversation? My last chance to see him alive?

  ‘I wish you good luck with the operation,’ I say quietly. ‘Can you please call me as soon as you wake up from the anaesthetic?’

  ‘Okay,’ he agrees, smiling. ‘I’ll call you. And you go home to your family, all right?’

  ‘As soon as I know you’re okay,’ I promise, and Alex’s smile gets bigger.

  But he doesn’t call the next day, or the day after that. The walls of the hotel are suffocating me and so, to avoid going crazy, I take a walk around autumnal Seattle. I wander the streets aimlessly but can’t get a feel for the city. I don’t even see it because all my mind can do is count off the long exhausting hours of waiting. After another day spent waiting fruitlessly for a call, I decide to ring myself. Maria answers.

  ‘Valeria, thanks for calling. The operation went well; they did everything they needed to.’