Flying Backwards

by Jennifer W Smith

  Lydia led them to her compact car, parked across the street. Nora sat in the backseat and Sergei sat next to his sister; he was apparently complaining to her in Russian about the traffic. Lydia always spoke in English, to be polite, Nora assumed.

  The traffic was horrendous. The short distant to the Hermitage took almost forty-five minutes. Lydia dropped them off and went to park the car. Sergei walked Nora to the river’s edge to enjoy the water views. They watched the boats motor by under overcast skies. Several minutes later Lydia approached and called out, “I’ve got the tickets,” waving them in the air. They followed Lydia inside the massive building. She directed them around the crowds of tourists to a quieter section of the enormous museum. Lydia was very knowledgeable, and she maneuvered them effortlessly through the long halls. Nora was fascinated.

  “There is so much more to see, but I have to leave you two now. I have a private tour here in a few minutes. Please finish exploring on your own.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll see you soon.” Lydia disappeared into the crowd.

  “Your sister is so sweet. Her English is very good.”

  Sergei nodded and pulled a map out of his jacket pocket. “Do you want to go down to the café and eat something and then wander around some more?”

  “Good idea. I’m thirsty. It’s a little warm in here.”

  They talked for a bit in the café and then made their way to see a couple exhibits Nora had noticed on the map. Then they waited out front for Lydia to finish her afternoon tour. Then they inched their way through the traffic to Sergei’s parents’ apartment. Lydia parked the car in an alleyway, and they walked to the front of the building, which ran the length of the block.

  They walked down a corridor to an elevator and took it up six floors. Lydia used a key to open the door. “Hello, we are here,” she called.

  A blond woman rushed from the kitchen and met them with open arms. “Sergei!” She hugged her son around his waist.

  “Mama.” He hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek. “You look well.” He held her at arm’s length and then turned to grab Nora’s hand. “Mama, this is Nora.”

  “Hello, Nora.” She shook Nora’s outstretched hand. “I am Svetlana.”

  Nora was a little surprised that her English was also very good.

  “She is the friend I spoke to you about who lives across the street from me in Philadelphia. She is a flight attendant.”

  “Of course.” She then looked back at her son. “Look at you; it’s been too long, Sergei.” Nora could see the love in her eyes and was touched by the tender moment.

  “Come. Let me get you something to drink.”

  The apartment was bigger than Nora expected. Although the furniture looked a little worn, the place was nicely decorated. Lydia told her mother she would fix some tea and disappeared into the galley kitchen. Sergei told his mother how living in America was going. He said things were better after he’d met Nora and Bree, her roommate.

  “We’ve been there for five months, since March,” Nora added. “Sergei has been great. One night he even made me beef stroganoff. I was very impressed.”

  Sergei laughed, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling at his mother.

  “Sergei, I have not seen you in two years, and now you bring home a girl you’ve cooked dinner for,” his mother replied in a teasing voice.

  Lydia entered with a tray and set it on the coffee table. She and her mother exchanged looks.

  “What is new with you, Mama?” Sergei glanced briefly at Nora before opening the next subject.

  They chatted for a while before Svetlana excused herself. “I am going to prepare dinner, before your father gets home.”

  “Do you need help?” Nora offered.

  “No. You are a guest. Lydia will help me.” Lydia followed her mother into the kitchen.

  “Is this where you grew up?” Nora asked.

  “Yes, my parents got this apartment when they got married. Lydia and I shared a bedroom until I left for my job in America.” He chuckled. “Now she has it all to herself.”

  When his father arrived, introductions were made. Once the men had a chance to catch up, the group ate a dinner of pork chops, potatoes, carrots, and parsnips and shared a pot of tea. Lydia poured, using a strainer to hold back the loose tea leaves. For dessert, Lydia served custard. “We made your favorite.” She beamed at her brother.

  Nora loved being emerged in new customs. She thanked his parents before she and Sergei left. He had arranged to borrow Lydia’s car for the night. They would pick Lydia up in the morning and drive out of the city to visit Peter the Great’s palace, Peterhof.

  Since the hour wasn’t late and the traffic had lightened up, Sergei drove Nora past a few touristy sites. He pulled over just down the river from a cathedral that he informed her was called the Church of the Savior on the Blood. They got out. “This is the best time to see this church, at night when it is lit up like this,” Sergei said.

  “Wow, this is beautiful,” Nora replied, in awe.

  It was everything she had seen in magazines about what a Russian church would look like. It featured beautiful gold-draped onion domes and incredible stonework. The lights reflected in the water of the canal. This is a truly magical sight, Nora thought, and she took out her camera. “I never want to forget this place.” She snapped away.

  After another hour of touring the city, Sergei parked Lydia’s car near the hotel. When they stopped in front of her room to say goodnight, Nora remarked, “This city has some beautiful treasures. Thank you for bringing me.” She stopped and looked up in his eyes. “Why did you?”

  “I wanted some time with you, a few days, just us. I want you to get to know me better. I don’t want you to hesitate when I try to kiss you again.”

  “You want to kiss me!” She laughed, waving him off. “Goodnight.”

  He smiled at her, but the look in his pale blue eyes told her a very clear story. She understood that Sergei wanted their friendship to move to the next level. But she smiled at him and opened her door, waving to him as she closed it behind her.

  Nora sprawled back onto the bed, looking at but not seeing a crack in the ceiling. She liked that Sergei was thoughtful and protective, tough when he needed to be and gentle when he wanted to be. He brought me all this way to spend time with him. He wants me to get to know him better. If that isn’t commitment, what is? Why was it so hard for her to figure out if there could be something more than friendship? Nora knew she needed to move on after her torrid relationship with Antonio. And as much as she would love to get involved with Ben, it would be a complicated long-distance relationship that she didn’t think either of them considered viable.

  She recalled the night back in June when Sergei had made her dinner. She had gotten more than tipsy, and she had kissed him. Even then, Sergei was a gentleman and did not want to take advantage of her drunken state. That said something about his character. She admired him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She woke to a gorgeous sunny morning. Nora ate the same breakfast as yesterday but switched from coffee to tea. They donned their sunglasses and drove to pick up Lydia. She was pacing outside. “I’m glad to see my car is in one piece.”

  “Get in the back, I’ll drive,” Sergei said out the driver’s window. Lydia hesitated. Nora figured that she must have decided against arguing with her big brother, because she opened the sedan’s back door and climbed in. They inched their way out of the city and drove into the country. It took about an hour to arrive at Peterhof. As soon as they walked through the elaborate gates Lydia started spewing facts about the once famous royal residence. They maneuvered through room after room. Sergei seemed impressed by his little sister’s extensive knowledge of the palace’s history, including its recent renovations.

  “We saved the best for last, in my opinion. The fountains and gardens are spectacular. Have a look at the Grand Cascade. This parkland represents nearly two centuries of aristocratic Europea
n fashion in park design.” Lydia pointed down toward the magnificent fountains and waterways that led to the sea. The weather was perfect for walking around. Both Sergei and Lydia commented that it was rare. “We got lucky,” Sergei commented.

  Nora asked Lydia to take a picture of her and Sergei with the fountains and Peterhof in the background. He put his arm around her, and they said “Cheese.” They wandered around the grounds for over an hour. A pavilion by the sea housed a café, and they got a little something to eat.

  “It’s so lovely here with these sweeping vistas, ornate statues, and spectacular flowers. I hate to leave.” Nora feasted her eyes one last time on the Grand Cascade as they headed toward the car. Svetlana had invited them back for dinner; Nora didn’t want to go empty-handed, so she asked Sergei to stop at a gift shop, where she purchased two pretty scarfs. After dinner she gave one to Svetlana in appreciation for the delicious dinner and one to Lydia for being an amazing tour guide. They both gave her hugs and thanked her over and over.

  While they sat sipping tea after dinner, Sergei leaned over and asked Nora, “Did you happen to pack anything to wear to go out to a club?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I’m always prepared.” They hadn’t talked about nightlife in St. Petersburg, but on their last night there she thought it might prove interesting to sample what the city offered. “Why? Do you have a place in mind?”

  “Lydia called a bunch of my old friends about hanging out tonight. Do you want to join us?” At her nod they finished up their tea and said their good-byes to Sergei’s family. Sergei drove them back to the hotel to get ready.

  Nora thought she would try something different from wearing her hair up. She’d brought along her jumbo Velcro hair rollers. She rolled them into her hair before she showered, hoping the steam would help set them. Once dressed, she let her hair down. The waves cascaded to her elbows. She spritzed it and moved on to her jewelry. She latched long silver drops in each ear and slid on a set of bangle bracelets.

  Sergei rapped on her door. Nora called, “Come on in.”

  “Wow!” he said when he walked in.

  Nora wore a lavender halter dress and strappy wedge sandals.

  “Wow yourself. Good color on you.” Sergei looked handsome in a light blue button-down shirt, almost the shade of his pale eyes. His face was freshly shaven, and he smelled great. Nora grabbed her small clutch on the way out the door.

  “Mmm, my friends are going to go crazy when they see you,” Sergei warned with a flash of teeth as he followed her down the corridor.

  “Oh, stop!” She laughed.

  They swung back to pick up Lydia, who wore an emerald green blouse with a short black skirt and heels. She’d added a barrette that was studded with dark green stones to her hair.

  The club was large, and Nora was surprised to hear American and British music playing. A group of guys yelled out to Sergei. While the guys made their noisy hellos, Nora followed Lydia to the bar. Nora usually managed to turn a few head when she went clubbing with Bree, Bree being the main attraction. But here she felt like everyone was looking at her. It was like “American” was stamped across her forehead. When guys moved in on her, Sergei slid his arm around her and whispered in her ear, “If you get tired of getting hit on I can be your boyfriend.”

  “Okay. You are my boyfriend tonight.” She didn’t want to fend for herself with this group of foreign men.

  His eyebrows rose at her declaration. “Well, let me introduce you to my friends. They all speak English, but some not very well.”

  She turned toward the stunned faces of Sergei’s friends.

  “This is my girlfriend, Nora.” He called off their names as they waved or shouted hello. There were seven of them; two were with girlfriends. Sergei got Nora and Lydia drinks from the bar, and not long after, shots appeared for the comrades. Sergei’s loudest friend convinced her to do two shots. His friends were funny and jovial, and one tugged Lydia out on the dance floor. Another guy asked Sergei if he minded if he danced with his girlfriend. Sergei defaulted to Nora, lifting his eyebrow at her.

  “Sure.” Nora felt buzzed. After she’d danced for two songs, the DJ played an old favorite of hers, and she shook her stuff more vigorously than she had planned on. She noticed that Sergei stood at the edge of the dance floor, talking to a friend who was pointing to Nora, shaking his head in amazement. He put his palms up as if to say, “You are with her? Go figure.” Sergei good-naturedly shoved him aside.

  The night was coming to a close, and they walked outside to say good-bye to his friends. Lydia told Sergei that she had a ride home, and she left with the guy who had asked her to dance.

  “It was good to meet you, Nora. Take care of this guy, eh?” said the loudest of Sergei’s friends. “I’m glad to see you happy, comrade.” He tipped his head toward Nora. “Eh?”

  “Thanks, my friend. You take care of yourself.” The men hugged, slapping each other’s backs.

  Sergei and Nora walked the couple of blocks to Lydia’s car. Nora slid inside, saying, “My feet hurt.” She untied her strappy shoes, kicked them off, and curled her feet under her on the seat. She faced Sergei as he pulled away from the curb. Resting her temple on the headrest, she studied his profile. He was ruggedly handsome, she thought. With a long day of touring and a long night of partying behind them, Nora drifted off to sleep and woke when the motor turned off.

  “Stay there,” Sergei said. Nora held her shoes by the straps, the clutch strap looped around her elbow. Sergei came around, opened her door, and effortlessly lifted her out of the car. He kicked the door closed with his foot and carried her to the hotel.

  “Sergei! I can walk!” she protested.

  “You have no shoes on.”

  Nora tried to wiggle free, but he held her in his vice-like grip. No one was in the lobby, not even at the front desk, which was a relief to Nora because she was embarrassed at being carried. He pressed the button and the elevator doors opened.

  “We are inside. You can put me down now.” His response was to jostle her so she tightened her grip around his neck.

  The doors opened on their floor, and he asked for Nora’s key. She peered over his shoulder while she opened her clutch and fished around for the key, the old-fashioned kind, not a keycard. She reached for the lock and slid the key into the slot and twisted it. Sergei turned the knob, using the hand tucked under her knees, after hearing the click and opened the door. Then the door closed behind him.

  He slowly let her feet slide to the floor. Their bodies pressed together. He slid his other hand up her back under the soft curtain of her hair. Her arms came to rest at her sides. She dropped her shoes and let the clutch slip from her fingers. The bangle bracelets sliding down her arm clanked in the silence of the room. She searched his face, knowing what he wanted, but she hesitated this time, not making the first move. He had told her before that he wanted to kiss her. So she waited. It was his move. He held her to him.

  She tilted her face, opening her mouth slightly, ready to receive his kiss.

  “Nora, I want to kiss you now.” The room was in semidarkness; the city lights filtered in through the window. She could see his face was filled with desire. His eyes fluttered closed as he dipped down, and his lips brushed hers only once before they captured hers. His gentle kiss deepened, and she slid her palms up his arms and around his neck. She didn’t want to think; she just wanted to feel. She was very buzzed, and his kisses aroused her.

  They shuffled toward the bed, pausing at the foot of it as she clumsily unbuttoned his shirt. He tugged her dress up so he could access the supple skin of her behind, kissing all the while. Her hands touched his bare chest. Her fingertips seemed to tingle at the sensation of his hard muscles. She pressed her palms flat against his pecs and then slowly slid them down his abs, savoring every ripple. Her hands stopped at his belt. The buckle locked her out. This caused her to pause and to think. She stepped aside, holding her hands up, halting him. She dre
w in a deep breath. That feeling was twisting in her gut–that feeling that she should not continue. She had been caught up in the moment. Sergei tried to pull her to him, and Nora felt the tiniest flicker of panic.

  “I’m… It’s… I’m not ready. Sergei, I’m sorry.” She pushed her dress down and gave him a sheepish look.

  “It’s okay. We can stop.” His rough voice was barely above a whisper, but it was like a loud warning in her ears. She looked into his pale blue eyes in the dim light. Damn, he is patient.

  “Get some rest. Tomorrow is our last day together.”

  Nora felt the tension ease from her shoulders. Sergei leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering for a brief moment. He is so sweet, she thought. And I’m torturing him.

  After retrieving his shirt, Sergei left her room. Nora covered her eyes with her hands. She had almost done something she would have regretted. She felt slightly dizzy. I’m practically hyperventilating. Needing to lie down, she unzipped her dress where she stood and dropped it to the floor. She flung her bra away. Her bangle bracelets dropped, clunking to the floor. She climbed into bed and drifted off into a restless night’s sleep.

  The next morning her head throbbed. When she tried to swallow, her mouth was cotton dry. Her eyes screwed shut against the pillow, she wondered what had occurred the night before with Sergei. She cracked one eye open to survey the situation. Her clothes were strewn around. Focusing on the alarm clock, she remembered Sergei had gone back to his own room hours before. She gingerly crawled out of bed, pulling the sheet around her naked body. She went straight to her toiletry bag to find something for her pounding head, and she drank every drop of water that was left in her water bottle from the day before. After all the alcohol she’d consumed, Nora felt dehydrated. She eyed the tap, not sure if she should drink out of it, but she hoped one glassful would not upset her stomach.

  She didn’t want to think about last night, but after the pain medicine kicked in and the sweaty stickiness from dancing was washed away under a hot shower, she replayed everything in her head.