I have to stop emailing until I’m home because I am now in an uncomfortable position in a public place and need to think about nuns until my trousers fit better.
Love,
Valya
FROM: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: listen.
Okay, seriously, though. Everyone else has told me I’m awful. Not just one person either, multiple people. I wasn’t mute then, either. I’m calling shenanigans.
Love,
Peter the Doubtful
FROM: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You’re the one who needs to listen.
I don’t know what to tell you except that you must have chosen several partners with no sense of judgment.
Though, in fact, I think I have a theory. In an hour I’ll be home and I’ll email you again.
V
FROM: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: the things I’ve learned about sex
You do manage to draw me into subjects I barely acknowledge to my conscious mind and then have me writing tomes on the subject.
I have had significantly more than three partners. I have, on several occasions, had three people at once, and having two partners at once has been exceptionally commonplace. I mention this because when it comes to sex, I’m incredibly comfortable and feel more than qualified to judge your skill. At the same time, I’m quite poor in experience of having sex with someone I’m seeing romantically. And if the romantic partners and the just-for-fun partners were to meet, you would think they were describing sex with entirely different people.
You’re the first person I’ve had sex with where I have a romantic interest but I’ve behaved wantonly and with abandon, behavior I usually save for flings. I’ll admit I feel undone by this fact and frequently don’t know how to behave. I think it’s probably in part because I’m terrified of going back to Ukraine. The tentative hold on my life, the control that makes me feel safe, is cracking. Even our relationship is nothing like I’ve ever had. It began with you proposing to me and me seriously considering your offer. I can’t make you platonic or business-only in my head, and I can’t make you a fling. You carve out your own path every time we’re together and pull me to places no one else can get me to go.
I think that affects us in the bedroom. I can’t speak for how this situation chafes against the issues you struggle with in your life, but for me it does feel like things breaking away and revealing raw, naked flesh. Everything about how I interact with you—the fact that I desperately need your help, the fact that you have your own situation I need to be respectful of, and the fact that you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, a dazzling array of contradictions and depth that lure me like a siren—all of this jumbles my usual efforts to keep the world at a distance. Since the moment you proposed to me, I feel as if I keep tumbling off cliffs, and yet somehow I have yet to experience a single bruise.
I cannot believe how quickly this is happening when I stop and realize. It has to be wrong, I think. Then you appear before me, in real life or in a message, and I feel as if nothing has ever been more right.
You are enchanting when we have sex. You’re deliciously wicked and vulnerable in ways that make me want to wrap you up and never allow you out of bed. Dennis made a comment again tonight about a threesome with you, and I honestly thought I might punch him. I don’t want to share you with anyone. In fact, I have to stop myself from thinking things like I don’t want anyone else to intrude on our little world. That’s not healthy or right for either of us. But if we were suddenly swept to a deserted island together, alone, I would be content. Outside of the fact that I would turn into a lobster the second the sun hit my skin.
I don’t want to presume anything about our relationship or how you feel about me, but perhaps I don’t agree with your previous partners because something about this situation unlocks you in the same way it does me. Perhaps your own sense of control has been jumbled as well, in a way that shakes you loose but doesn’t make you feel unsafe. Or perhaps it’s something else entirely.
All I know is that I wish you were here right now, because we would be having sex again, and nothing about it would disappoint me.
Love,
Valya
FROM: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: control
I wanted to text you tonight, but I think maybe we both needed to email instead.
It took me two weeks to be able to speak to my coworker at the coffee shop. She was the first person I spoke to who wasn’t my family since my relapse, and we had to do Sliding In every day. For the first few days of working, I couldn’t do more than a few hours, and then I went home and cried. It was just a lot. I worried I wouldn’t ever be able to interact with people again, and all I could think about was how far I’d fallen.
I was “cured,” so I thought, when I was sixteen. College was a challenge, but I managed it. In hindsight, my relapse was a long time coming. Just as I don’t know what started my SM the first time, I don’t know what triggered the second, only that one day I was at work and couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at anyone, couldn’t move. There was no event that set me off that was singular, only the world closing around me. I already told you how they found me. Well, after that, I was hospitalized. My mom went into orbit out of helplessness. My dad was angry. My stepfather was uneasy. I was completely locked in at first, not responding to anyone until they put me on some really heavy antianxiety meds. Then I could only talk to my family members. At first I couldn’t speak to people I’d known before. Eventually I got that back. But I couldn’t work. I couldn’t live alone. I felt so incredibly worthless.
I’m off track here, but I think I need to get this off my chest. Do you know how many adults have SM? Do you know how much support and research there is for it? Everything is about kids, and how they get over it. I felt like the world’s biggest disappointment. I thought about suicide several times, but my mom was so distraught I felt like the better punishment for myself was to just sit there and be a potato.
I think you’re right about the control, though I’m surprised at how easily I’ve let you in. Basically I subliminally control my speech so I don’t say something and disappoint people. It should take me more than a month to go on a date with you. I shouldn’t be talking about Sliding In so fast. I can’t believe how I just dove into sex. I don’t quite panic the way you do, which in itself is super strange. It’s as if the same part of my brain that holds me back somehow sees you as a chance to let go. This is all super huge for me. You’re super huge for me.
You’re also, um, super huge.
Anyway. Thanks for telling me I’m good in bed, for telling me about your own stuff. I want everything about us. To help you get your green card, to help you feel happy in a relationship, to find a relationship of my own. Maybe we’re doing this a little sideways and too fast, but honestly maybe that’s the only way we could do this.
I have to open tomorrow so I’ve got to go to bed, but I really wish you were here with me.
Love,
Petrush
Chapter Thirteen
EVERY time Valentyn saw Dennis, his friend demanded to know if he could meet Peter yet. Today it happened as Valentyn walked with Dennis back to campus after grabbing coffee at Procaffeination. As was his habit now, when Peter gave him his order, he made brief eye contact and let their fingers touch as he handed Valentyn his to-go cup. Today he’d also smiled, a sexy smile that burned in Valentyn still. Apparently it burned in Dennis too.
Valentyn sipped his coffee. “It’s not the right time for you to meet him.”
“It’s been six weeks. How long do I have to wait?”
“Until he’s ready.” Until I’m ready. “Besides, who knows where this will go.”
Dennis shrugged. “I see how
you look at him. You’re going to marry him.”
“If he agrees, then probably yes.”
“Hasn’t he already agreed? He’s the one who asked you.”
“There’s not that big of a rush. Yes, I’m in a time lock, but….” He sipped more coffee, not sure how to finish his assertion.
“That’s the interesting part. There is a rush, and you’ve already spent precious time with him, only to give me vague answers. You know you’re just about out of time. You have just over three months left until your visa expires. If you don’t marry him, you have to marry someone else, magic up a work visa, or go back to Ukraine.” Dennis tilted his head to get a better look at Valentyn. “But you intend to marry him, and he isn’t letting go of you.”
Valentyn sighed and sipped more coffee.
“How did the sliding thing go last night?”
“Sliding In? Fine. I mean, I didn’t have to do much. So far I’m still sitting out of his line of sight, and he’s not doing much more than whispering lines out of a book to his aunt.”
“Wow. So he doesn’t talk to you at all yet? How long have you been doing this?”
“Two weeks. But this is normal, from what I understand. Also, he talks to me, outside of the Sliding In sessions. Depends on the situation, and he doesn’t say much. We have to be alone, though.”
“Probably not ready for me, then. God, but I’m so curious.” Dennis tossed him a casual salute. “I’ve got a meeting, so I’ll catch you later. But if I’m not the first friend of yours he meets, I’m going to be upset.”
Valentyn said nothing, but he smiled around his next sip of coffee.
He lingered in his office until it was time to leave to go to the Bowmans’ house. As he drove across town, his heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing Peter again, of taking one more step to communicate with him. They still emailed and texted regularly. Valentyn had an email folder burgeoning with pages and pages of conversation between the two of them, and more text data than he ever thought he’d have with a single person. He also had an intimate knowledge of Peter’s body. Yet nothing felt more intimate, more profound, than the days he sat on the edge of Helen Bowman’s living room, watching and listening as Peter spoke hesitantly to her.
He entered today as he always did, through the side door without knocking, and wove his way to the chair waiting for him. It was incrementally closer each time, and for the past three days, Valentyn had been able to see a little bit of Peter. They always started chatting before he arrived, and the opening of the door always rendered Peter briefly silent before he would resume where he’d left off.
Today they spoke about the environment.
“W-we have to act now.” His voice was soft, above a whisper but so quiet Valentyn had to strain to hear it. “It doesn’t matter if this is caused by humans or is a natural event. We have the science to identify and predict it, and… and we know how to stop it.”
The last bit had trailed into a whisper, and once finished, Peter hunched forward, looking spent and out of breath. His aunt waited patiently, nodding through his speech. “Global warming is a serious problem, no question. I often feel helpless, unsure what I can do to help.”
“Call… your representatives. L-local and na… tional.” Peter looked like he might fall over. Valentyn wanted to call a stop to this, because it seemed like too much, but that wasn’t his decision to make.
“I’ll do that again when we’re done here.”
They talked for several more minutes, until Peter was sweating and unsteady on his chair.
Helen took his hands, squeezing them as she smiled. “You’re doing very, very well, Peter. Would you like to stop or keep going?”
Peter drew a long, slow breath, then exhaled in a rush. “Keep going.”
“Very well. What would you like to talk about now? Or would you like me to pick the topic?”
Valentyn could see Peter’s knuckles going white as he seized his aunt’s hands. He continued to stare at the floor between him and his aunt. “I want to talk about Valya. I want to talk to Valya.”
A shiver ran through Valentyn. His gaze darted to Helen.
She glanced back at him, but mostly kept her focus on Peter. “Do you want him to come closer?”
Peter shook his head emphatically. “No.”
“Do you want him to reply to you?”
After some consideration, Peter shook his head again. “Not yet.”
“Okay. Why don’t you talk to both of us? And if you want me to answer, squeeze with your right hand. If you want Valya to answer, squeeze with your left.”
Peter nodded. He looked ready to pass out.
Valentyn clenched his hand on his leg and said nothing.
When the silence went on a little long, Helen spoke. “What do you want to tell me about Valya? What do you want to tell him?”
“I really like you.” Peter’s gaze was glued to the floor. “I’ve had so much fun getting to know you.” He swayed a second, then added, “I like your vodka.”
Helen smiled. “Can I ask you questions about him?” Peter nodded. “How did you meet him?”
Valentyn didn’t know how much Peter had told his aunt already, if this would be news to her or if she chose this because it was an easy answer.
“At the store. I saw him when I worked.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
A quirk of a smile. “I thought he was handsome. I liked his hands.”
There was a long pause, and then Helen turned to Valentyn with a kind smile. “It’s your turn now.”
Ironically, it took Valentyn a moment to find his voice. “I… thought you were cute. I… liked the curve of your neck.” Why was he so sweaty? “I liked the efficiency of your movements.”
Helen spoke. “How did you connect, Peter? Who made the first move?”
After a pause, Peter answered. “He… said something to me once, but I couldn’t answer. Then one day I spoke to him.”
Helen’s eyes widened. “Did you now! Well, my goodness. What did you say?”
A smile quirked at Peter’s lips. “I proposed.”
Helen laughed, so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “Oh, Peter. I love what a devil you are. Okay, try again. I was laughing too hard and missed the cue.” After retaking his hands, she turned to Valentyn. “Your turn again.”
Valentyn was smiling too, at Peter. “It’s true. He did ask me to marry him. What else could I do? I gave him my contact information.” He felt like he should say something to Peter, but he didn’t know what it should be. He decided that was the way to go. “Sorry, Petrush, I don’t mean to be shy. But you know how you undo me.”
Peter kept his gaze on the floor, but his head was turned toward Valentyn now. “I… like it when that happens.”
Valentyn almost replied, then waited for Helen’s nod. “I’d like to have another date with you soon. I’ll go anywhere you like.”
It took Peter a long time to reply, and before he did, his gaze met Valentyn’s, briefly. “I… want to tell my aunt. The truth.”
Fear raced through Valentyn, though he couldn’t place a root cause. “All right,” he said at last. Now he was the one almost whispering.
“Sh-she’ll understand,” Peter insisted.
Valentyn nodded. “I trust you. Should I do it, or you?”
“B-both. I’ll start.” He turned back to Helen. “I’m going to marry Valya. Soon.”
Valentyn could see the concern on her face, but to her credit, she remained calm. “I assume there’s more to this story?” A pause, then a nod at Valentyn. “Over to you, it seems.”
God, but Valentyn felt clammy. He cleared his throat. “My visa expires soon. I applied for a different type of one that should have been more permanent, but for reasons not explained to me, it was denied. That’s more and more common lately. While it’s true I’m interested in Peter romantically and he feels the same about me, we initially began talking because he offered to help me get a green card.”
�
�I w-was still interested in him.” Peter was more confident now, barely any hesitation. “But I wanted to help. I still do.”
“I see.” Helen clearly had a lot of opinions on this, but she was keeping them down.
Valentyn hadn’t been given the flag to speak, but this time, he felt he had to. “This isn’t my preference, starting back to front. I’m still trying to get my visa situation straightened out, but I fear I’m out of time. Technically I can stay as soon as my application is submitted, but if they deny it again, I’m deported immediately. A green card via marriage is different. I do care a great deal about Peter, though. I intend to do right by him.”
Helen sighed. “Well, you both can imagine my feelings on this. You seem like a kind man, Valya, but my first concerns are for Peter.” When Peter went visibly stiff, she continued gently. “I understand this is your decision, and of course I support you. But do you blame me for being worried? There’s a reason relationships aren’t supposed to start at the climax. And you two have exceptional challenges to face.”
This time Peter cut a glance to Valentyn even as he sent the signal through Helen.
Valentyn cleared his throat and sat straighter. “With respect, ma’am, yes. We both bring challenges. Getting me a green card means staying married for a period of time regardless of whether or not our relationship lasts. But you have my word—you both do—that no matter what, I will never forget how meaningful this is to me and to my future. Even if we eventually part as friends, I will honor and support Peter however I can for the rest of my life.”
“S-same.” Peter met Valentyn’s gaze and held it.
Helen sighed again and rolled her shoulders. “Okay. So does this mean we’re planning a wedding? Or are you rushing off to the courthouse?”
Valentyn waited for another nod from Peter. “Actually, it needs to have a bit of show to it. We need to document our relationship so we can show it to the interviewers.”
Helen paled. “Oh God, I didn’t think of that. Peter, are you going to be okay in an interview? How will you talk to a stranger?”
The Professor's Green Card Marriage Page 11
