by Blake Haugen
Vanya jerkily tied a navy striped silk tie around his neck and looked at himself in the mirror. Persephone had bought the tie as a Christmas present. It went well with the gray silk linen suit he’d chosen. His hair was styled in a short blended cut and his face was clean shaven. His good grooming was the work of the stylist Lina had dragged him to yesterday. The tall, handsome, kempt man that stared back at him was somewhat of a stranger.
Since Persephone’s departure in late March, Vanya had resembled a zombie. He’d actually grown some semblance of a beard and his hair had been far too long. The crisp dress shirts he usually wore were wrinkled or traded in for long sleeved henleys. When he wasn’t following a lead on Persephone’s whereabouts, he was catching up on schoolwork. He’d missed a lot of class while trying to ignore the fact that sleeping and eating held little appeal to him.
No one questioned him other than his professors. Vanya had been lucky in that regard. The two who had taken note of his subpar performance during midterms knew of his typically stellar work ethic. They went easy on him; Professor Pearl had even mentioned Persephone’s absence. He’d patted Vanya on the shoulder when he came by the professor’s office to turn in a poorly written late paper. Pearl was gracious enough to give him a B. That was probably the only reason Vanya was dressing for his graduation ceremony with honor pins and cords. Pearl’s empathy had snapped him back to reality. Vanya was able pull it together enough to at least resemble a functioning human being and finished his last semester with honors.
When Vanya finished his finals two weeks ago, he’d become completely hermitic. He’d spoken to no one and didn’t take calls from anyone but Max. Max had visited to deliver more fruitless updates and endured Vanya’s foul attitude until he had to nearly yell at him. In the fifteen or so years Vanya had known Max he’d never heard the man raise his voice.
Vanya had been especially belligerent that day, yelling and cursing, telling Max he was worthless, and trying to pick a fight by pushing at his shoulders. Vanya didn’t care that he was drunk or that Max had thirty more pounds of solid muscle than he had body mass. He’d been angry and he wanted someone to bear his wrath.
“You need to accept that Peter Benson is right!” Max exclaimed, taking Vanya by the lapels and shaking him. “And your behavior is beneath you.”
Max shoved Vanya to the couch then. He stood and watched over him for a few moments, kind enough to pretend that he couldn’t smell the other man’s odor.
“You’re right,” Vanya mumbled in defeat, “and I’m sorry… for all of this.”
“Don’t mention it. Loss is hard and I know you need to pursue this, but from now on we’ll deal with it like men. On our feet with our heads up.”
Max had left then and hadn’t spoken to him since. That night, and every other after it, Vanya had tossed around at night in states of dress and undress. He contemplated Peter Benson’s words to him, sweating and panicking, unwilling to believe that Persephone would do something like this.
Vanya had reached the Benson home in Texas on the night Persephone fled. He’d expected some cooperation. However, Peter hadn’t granted him access when he opened the front door.
“Listen here,” the stern man spoke plainly. “She’s safe. She’s doin’ well. She doesn’t need to be found and she doesn’t wanna be found. If you cause us trouble or I see you on my property again, I’ll shoot you where you stand. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Vanya replied right before Peter slammed the door in his face.
Vanya had returned to the city fuming. He didn’t speak for an entire day afterward, not even to Max. That day had been the beginning of his descent into his current wretched state.
Everyone would be at the ceremony today. Kirill, Lina and Austin, the twins, the girls, and the Lyadovs had all taken time out of their schedules to make the drive to campus and attend the elaborate garden party Peng had planned. Something like fifty or sixty people would be at the gathering, and for the first time, Vanya was apprehensive about meeting with a large group of people. In some sense, all of the attention would be on him. This usually wasn’t a point of concern as he rather liked attention, but right now he was shell of himself. The dark circles around his eyes were a visual testament to that.
The buzz of his phone let Vanya know Max was ready downstairs. He would drive him to the ceremony and to the Pravdin estate afterward. Kirill had insisted that Vanya be driven today. It seemed he didn’t want his son to make an escape from the festivities. Vanya suspected his father would corner him at some point, but he didn’t care. There was nothing Kirill could take from him that he truly cared for.
When Vanya arrived at the campus gymnasium, it was full of loud and joyous students. Many women were primping. Several men were holding burned out stogies or wearing bright shades. Everyone knew one another; their closeness was apparent in their hugs and animated conversations. The cacophony of it all was overwhelming. Vanya had half a mind to walk out and pick up his degree next week at the registrar’s office. Knowing he’d never hear the end of it if he did so, Vanya trudged to his place in the “P” line. Thankfully, his unwillingness to converse was perceived by his classmates and no one bothered to engage him.
The quadrangle where the commencement would be held was on the other side of campus. The students processed outdoors for the entire walk. It was hot and sticky under the June sun. A wave of nausea washed over Vanya halfway through the procession. He faltered and nearly trampled Marcia Poh, the student in front of him wearing exceptionally high heels. Taking a millisecond to balance himself, he grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling.
Vanya apologized profusely, grateful that Marcia was easygoing. He was sure that he’d only spoken to her directly two times in the three years they had attended school together. Even so, she shook the whole thing off like they were old friends.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far. I don’t know what I was thinking wearing these things,” she lamented. She glanced down at the black four inch pumps before looking up at Vanya sideways. “Are you okay, Ivan? Do you need some water? I’ve got some; I snuck my bag under my robes.”
It was then that Vanya realized he’d had nothing to eat or drink for at least twenty-four hours. He and Lina went to a restaurant after his haircut the previous day where he had picked at salmon and spinach and drank a glass of water. He didn’t recall consuming anything last night and certainly hadn’t had any food today. He accepted Marcia’s water, thankful that she had likely saved him from heatstroke.
They made their way to their seats as the drum line went through cadences. Vanya mustered a smile when he passed his family’s aisle. Lina, Sophia, and Yulian waved enthusiastically while Peng and Eva snapped his photo with semi-professional cameras. The rest either nodded or didn’t see him. He was relieved when the boring speeches began; the speaker was some legal analyst for a news network he cared nothing about. Vanya sat back, sipped Marcia’s water, and tried not to fall asleep.
Nearly an hour later, the “A” students lined up to receive their degree. Vanya was alerted by families and friends shouting for their graduates and sat up straight. He propped his long legs up on the back of the chair in front him. The one next to it was empty. It dawned on him that the seat must belong to Persephone since she would have been seated with the “PE” students. No sooner than he had hoped the vacant chair meant her spot was being saved purposely did she appear in front of him.
“What?” Vanya managed to gasp out. The muscles in his chest and arms seized and his left temple began to ache. Persephone was standing in front of the chair with her hands folded and her head slightly bowed. Ignoring her meek expression, he rose to his feet, drawing curious stares.
“Switch places with me!” Vanya demanded of the chubby guy in the seat next to Persephone’s.
“Um,” the guy frowned, “I don’t think –”
“You can have it back when it’s time for your row to get up. Move – now!” he gritted with unm
asked anger. The guy, who Vanya guessed must have the same last name as Persephone, stood and fumbled over his white folding chair to hastily switch positions. Vanya took Persephone’s hand and sat down, effectively yanking her down with him.
“I… I can’t even talk to you right now,” he whispered roughly. He pushed at his temple with his right hand while holding onto Persephone with his left. He reminded himself not to squeeze too hard. The rage, the anguish, the relief – everything he felt in that moment threatened to pour out of him. His body succumbed to his emotions and he dry heaved once. There was no food to come up and it seemed he had sweated off all the water Marcia had given him. He recovered somewhat after a few deep breaths. Vanya tried to keep his voice steady; he didn’t want to upset her right now. The last time he’d tried to strong arm her, he’d ended up devastated.
“I want to talk to you after we walk. Can you wait by the class photographer, please?”
“Okay,” Persephone replied with a tone of complete obedience.
“Please don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” she insisted hastily.
Vanya twisted his mouth in a frown at that. There was a time when he wouldn’t have questioned her, but now something was broken. The procession moved on and when it was time for the “P” students to stand, Vanya switched with chubby Peterson once again. He expelled a worried breath when he saw Persephone wait by the photographer as he had asked.
His eyes remained fixed on her the entire time he walked up to the stage, shook the dean’s hand, and received his degree. Vaguely, Vanya recognized that Yulian and Mikhail were hooting loudly when his name was called, but he didn’t dare acknowledge them. He wasn’t letting Persephone out of his sight. He joined her when he stepped off the stage and led her away from the commencement ceremony by the hand. They made their way to a stone bench in the adjacent ivied courtyard and sat.
“I’m sorry,” Persephone began. “I was so wrong to leave like that and I’m so sorry.”
“Wrong to leave ‘like that’ or wrong to leave? You still think leaving was the answer?” Vanya asked plainly. He looked at her while she stared down at her wringing hands. Her dark brown eyes were watery and her silence answered his questions. That answer pained him more than he thought possible. “Where have you been?”
Persephone gulped. She was shivering visibly and took a deep breath before speaking. “Witness protection, essentially. I only came here today to –”
“Don’t do this,” Vanya cut in. He grabbed her hands tightly in his own.
“Vanya, don’t say that,” Persephone murmured as tears began to fall down her cheeks.
“What do you want me to tell you? That I don’t wake up every morning thinking I’m not who I’m supposed to be without you? That I don’t grieve over the fact that we should be a family? Or should I tell you that I had planned to propose today? Because that’s the truth, Percy, and something tells me you’re not ready to hear that.” He’d moved closer and clutched her hands to his chest.
Persephone cried profusely not bothering to hide or wipe her face. She hiccupped and didn’t reply until she had calmed. “No.”
“Is it because you’re afraid?” Vanya urged, circling one arm around her to rub her back. “Can’t we move? We can go anywhere, babe. Please, just don’t do this.”
“Vanya, the only reason I’m here is because of you. It’s dumb. People could come after you or me and no one would know we were dead for a day or so. You have to understand. I didn’t even believe that could happen again until Madrid. With all the precautions I took, that Peter and Benny took – all our efforts didn’t make one damn bit of difference.
“And here I am, risk-averse Persephone, playing with fire because I love you. The truth is I hate the thought of you in pain. I am afraid, but if marriage jitters were all it was, then I could handle it. I’ve told you that before. People who want to use me and wipe me off the map sought out your father to help them do just that.”
“Then we can eliminate them,” Vanya vowed in a cold voice. It was a voice he hadn’t used in a while; a voice full of promise and void of compassion.
“No, we can’t,” Persephone insisted. “We don’t have the resources. No one knows who they all are and you’re not on the throne yet. If I could make it happen, I would, Vanya. I swear. Dammit, almost everyone I love is here! There is nowhere else on the Earth I’d rather be than here in the city cussing at you someday for knocking me up with four boys. Do you believe me?”
Her reference to the vision he’d shared with her at Lina’s wedding made Vanya guffaw. For a moment, the humor eased his hurt, but then Vanya recognized that Persephone had just confirmed that his dreams would never come true. Tears fell down his cheeks and he sniffed. “Yeah, I do.”
“Oh, my god. Don’t. I’ll fall apart again if you do. I’m already going to lose it as soon as I leave anyway.”
“When are you leaving?” Vanya asked hoarsely.
“Now.”
He laughed mirthlessly and dragged his hands over his face. “God, I want you again. Even now I want you. It’s pathetic. It’s unacceptable really. I’ve done nothing to deserve this. Why didn’t you do this on the phone?”
“Because they can’t mail my degree and I needed you to hold me one last time,” Persephone managed through rapid breaths. She looked up at him hesitantly and Vanya immediately embraced her. His hold was constricting and unmoving. Persephone was locked against him, to him, and Vanya wished to God that they could fade away in that moment.
The kiss that followed was epic. It was indecent. It was passion and sorrow, but most of all, it was love.
Persephone pulled away and crossed her arms tightly over her torso, almost as if she couldn’t stop them from escaping. She backed away slowly and clumsily and then with more deftness when Vanya reached out to bring her back to him. She glanced back at the courtyard entrance where a silver sedan had appeared silently.
“I love you, Vanya. Don’t wait up.”
“Don’t say that to me. You’re the love of my life.”
A sob escaped Persephone’s mouth. She clasped her hand over her lips in a failed attempt to keep it in. She shook her head and looked at him helplessly. “I love you.”
Persephone turned away from him abruptly and hurried to the car. She got in the passenger’s seat without sparing him a glance and the sedan drove away. It took Vanya twenty minutes to pull himself together and face his family.
Chapter Two
August 24, 2015
Vanya was back. Like so many times before, he swiveled in his office chair and looked at the people milling about on the street below. He’d been away, and for the first time, he realized that his father’s office must have a more panoramic view of the city scene than his own.
Spending the month of June in South Africa under the pretense of surfing had been good for him. He’d told Max to spread word that he was taking a tour of Europe as a graduation present to himself. In reality he’d been renting a house located in the Walker Bay Nature Preserve on the South African coast. Only Max had known where he was during his time away.
At first, it had felt good to not have a cell phone. Vanya had opted not to get one upon his arrival. That was good and well for a day or so. After he’d checked all of his e-mail, the reality of his solitude had settled in. He’d reminded himself that when he left, things weren’t going to be all better. In fact, they would probably be infinitely worse. Persephone wasn’t going to be home when he returned to the city. There would just be hollowness where she belonged.
So, while he was in Walker Bay, Vanya hadn’t hiked through the fynbos and he didn’t surf on the cape. He hadn’t trotted any of the equestrian trails. Instead, he’d drank.
Sleep didn’t come without alcohol and eating happened only at the insistence of the personal chef and maid. They were the only people he came into regular contact with. Apart from the old couple who lived in a cottage a mile away, just beyond his private beach, his rented home was isolat
ed. Sometimes the couple would wave to Vanya on an evening walk. They were less worrisome than their niece, a svelte blonde jogger. She took every opportunity to chat Vanya up and refused to take a hint until one night when he’d literally turned when he saw her coming.
After two weeks, the chef just stocked the fridge with sandwiches every few days. Even though he’d been unable to muster an appetite for the cuisine she had offered, Vanya had made sure to try every one of the region’s wines. Messages from his father compelling Vanya to return home eventually got through to him. The first ones were polite, some later ones insistent, and the most recent were downright furious. Vanya had ignored them all. He’d wallowed for over three weeks, but it was anger that eventually drove him out of bed.
At first, he’d raged at Persephone. After all, it was she who decided to leave. Lingering insecurities had eaten at his confidence in her, making him question the authenticity of the love he’d experienced.
After a few days of that, he’d remembered one thing she’d said to him. He wasn’t on the throne yet. The only way she felt she could keep both of them safe was to leave. They didn’t have enough clout to ward off her enemies – their enemies.
Vanya then thought of what he must look like, lying in bed day after day. It was the spoiled behavior Persephone had sometimes insinuated he was capable of. It was no wonder he couldn’t get the things he wanted. He wasn’t fighting for anything. Persephone fought Trask, had stood up to Kirill, and walked away from her life in order to survive. What had he done? Languished in luxury while he let fate push him around? The idea disgusted him.
Vanya firmly believed he was master of his own fate. If that was true, then he was allowing himself to fall into his own destruction. On his last night in South Africa, he had finally decided to take a walk through the fynbos. Staring at the full moon, he’d wondered where Persephone was at that moment. Was it night where she was hiding? Was she thinking of him? It did no good to dwell on it. Vanya vowed that he would see her again; hopefully sooner rather than later, and on his own terms.
