The Professor's Green Card Marriage

by Heidi Cullinan

  He nodded, lips thin. “I’ll make myself be okay.”

  Helen clearly didn’t like this answer, but also wasn’t going to get into that now. “So we’re planning a party. That’s not a problem. What I do need to know, Peter, is if we’re telling your parents.”

  Peter pursed his lips and didn’t answer.

  Valentyn frowned. Why was this a problem?

  Helen didn’t look away from Peter. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do. I’d volunteer to tell her, but she’s going to come to you for an explanation no matter what. And it’s not like you can hide the fact that you’re married forever. Which fit is better? Before or after?”

  Peter’s jaw was rigid. “Before.”

  “Sure. Next question. Do you want to have the ceremony here, or in Denver?”

  No hesitation. “Here. In your house. Please.”

  “Got it. When do you want to get married?”

  Peter glanced at Valentyn.

  Valentyn really wished he could move closer. “Sooner is better, but any time in July is safe. Technically we have until my visa expires, but… sooner feels safer.”

  “All right.” Helen let go of Peter’s hands and stood. “I’m getting the feeling the two of you could use a moment alone right now. Since I’m pretty sure Valya wasn’t in on the plan to tell me about the wedding today.”

  Valentyn straightened. “I’m not against it. I want this to happen at Peter’s pace.”

  Helen gave him a strange smile, then shook her head. “Hmm. Maybe I should worry about both of you.” With a wave over her shoulder, she headed for the door. “Carry on, boys. I’m going to go finish dinner. I assume you’ll be staying, Valya?”

  “Thank you, I’d love to,” Valentyn called after her. Then he held his breath and waited to see what Peter would do.

  What he did was sit still for a few minutes. Then he spoke, much more quietly than before. “Sorry.”

  “What for?” Valentyn couldn’t take it anymore. “You look exhausted. Are you all right?”

  “Sorry for telling her without asking.”

  “Oh, that? Of course I don’t mind. I trust you to handle your own family.” When the pause went on too long, he spoke again. “Would it be okay for me to come closer? Or should I stay here?”

  Peter nodded, which wasn’t an answer. Valentyn took a chance and crossed the room slowly, taking the seat where Helen had been. Almost immediately, Peter leaned forward and rested the top of his head against Valentyn’s chest.

  “Th-that was hard,” Peter whispered.

  Valentyn stroked his back. “I was impressed. Though I worried like a mother hen. I wanted to comfort you, but knew I couldn’t help. This is something you have to do your own way. I’m proud of you, though.” He shifted so he could kiss Peter’s hair. “It was magical to hear you speak so much. I could listen to you talk for hours, about nothing.”

  Peter ran his hands up Valentyn’s thighs. “O-once I’m comfortable, I’ll talk a lot.”

  Smiling, Valentyn shifted his body closer. “I look forward to it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  AS soon as the marriage was officially on, Peter’s life took on a frantic, sometimes terrifying pace. It would be best for them to be married as soon as possible for Valya’s visa situation, a task which was technically as easy as a trip to the courthouse, but because it was so important that they document the ceremony, they had to invite friends and family, and in short make it an event. This created its own problems for Peter. One, he had to quickly become comfortable with a number of strangers. Two, he had to explain the situation to his parents. It was difficult to decide which exercise was more terrifying.

  One night as they lay in bed together, Valya stroking his hair, he shut his eyes, drew a deep breath, and said, “I w-wish we could skip my family.”

  More strokes. “My parents won’t be at the ceremony. There’s no rule that says we must include yours. If you want to put off talking to them, we can.”

  “No. It’s… no. Have to.”

  “As you like it.” He kissed Peter’s forehead. “I wouldn’t mind learning a little about them, but I don’t want to pressure you.”

  Peter wanted to voice his complicated emotions about his family, but that was more verbal communication than he had in him just yet. “I’ll send an email.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  He had the next day off, and Valentyn had to go in to check on students’ lab projects, so Peter used the time alone to compose his thoughts on Valentyn’s laptop, which he’d left at home.

  Peter hadn’t moved in with Valentyn exactly, but he did have a drawer and a spare toothbrush and his own key. The theory was in the same way that being exposed to Amy allowed him to talk to her more, exposure to Valentyn would put him at ease faster. It was working. He still couldn’t say as much as he wanted, though he didn’t hesitate that much anymore, unless he was nervous. Unfortunately everything about the wedding made him nervous.

  Writing about his parents would help. Then Valya would understand what Peter needed.

  Opening his email client, he began.

  FROM: pgrunbergfortheplanet@gmail.com

  To: valyashevchenko@gmail.com

  Subject: my parents

  So the thing with my parents is that they don’t get along and never have. They divorced when I was young, and I only visited my dad a few times here and there. He works at a design firm and travels all the time, so mostly I went to see him on weekends, until my SM got bad. He does not process my SM well. He’s not exactly a bad guy, but he’s not very tolerant of anyone he doesn’t understand. He’s also a climate change denier. That probably tells you enough about our relationship right there.

  I can’t talk to my dad. I can talk if he’s in the room so long as he doesn’t say anything. He avoids being in the same room with me. He won’t come to the wedding unless forced, and I’m not going to do that. He’ll only fight with Mom or make it harder for me to speak. So we’re not going to go meet him, either.

  Mom got remarried when I was eleven. Terry is a great guy, and he’s everything my dad’s not. Soft-spoken, quiet, and patient. Unfortunately when he moved in, it aggravated my SM because I’m so sensitive to changes, and even though our relationship has improved, he still treats me a little too cautiously. So we’ll meet him, but he’ll just sit back and nod and talk to my mom about it later. He’ll come to the wedding, but he’ll hang back by the punch bowl.

  My mom is something else entirely.

  Mom is overly energetic and wants to rewire the whole world, I think. We do okay long distance or over the phone because all she can do is talk. In person, she can’t sit still and it makes me anxious. She can’t help who she is, and I can’t help who I am. She loves me, and I love her, but I would have had a better go of life if Aunt Helen had been my mom. Of course, she was in high school when I was born, so probably that would never have worked. Still, it’s better I’m here with them in Boulder now. Joe is my mother’s brother, older by two years.

  When we go to see Mom and Terry, Mom will be excited to see I’m dating someone, but she’ll freak out when she finds out we’re getting married. We can’t tell her it’s a green card marriage. She’ll lose her mind. I know it’s not entirely a marriage of convenience, but we both know we’d be taking this more slowly if the situation allowed, so it still is a marriage of convenience. She’s going to ask a lot of questions. A ton of them. It’s going to be intense. She’s going to ask you questions, me questions, and she’ll prod and pry until I shut down, and then she’ll feel guilty. This is how it’s going to go. It always goes this way.

  I would have us get married first, but that will hurt her and I don’t want to do that. It’d also be worse after, because she’d want to know why. I’m not ready to have that conversation.

  So what I need from you is support. If you can charm her and keep her from being too intense with me, that would help a lot. I hate to ask it of you, but it’s a gauntlet we have to get t
hrough.

  You’ve come home while I wrote this, so I’m going to mail it, let you read it, and then you can ask me whatever questions you have.

  I’m sorry I’m so much work.

  P

  “YOU have email,” Peter said as he closed the laptop. He rose from the table, went into Valentyn’s bedroom, and closed the door before flopping on the bed.

  He liked Valya’s bed. He had a thick duvet on top of it, which he spread out neatly each morning and pulled the top down several inches away from the pillows. This made diving beneath the blanket quite easy, which was what Peter did now. He did this a lot, in fact, when he felt overwhelmed and needed to feel the cocoon that smelled like his lover.

  He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Valya stroked his hair while sitting on top of the duvet beside him. He smiled his soft smile that made Peter’s heart flip over.

  “Hello, Petrush.”

  Peter curled closer to him. “Hi.”

  “You aren’t too much work. Just the right amount.” Valya kept stroking his hairline, a hypnotic touch that made Peter feel as if he was floating away. “I’m sorry my situation makes things more difficult for you. Though one could argue without it, we may never have met.” He laughed softly. “Well, perhaps not. I think eventually you would have found a way to seduce me by crossword puzzle.”

  Smiling, Peter turned his head so he could kiss Valya’s palm.

  Valya’s expression became sad. “I want you to know it’s all right if you decide we don’t suit. I’ll support you until it’s time for us to part. I’ll compensate you however I can.”

  Sighing, Peter pressed a lingering kiss to Valya’s lips. “We suit.”

  Valya kissed him back, sliding his tongue between Peter’s lips.

  It was lazy, unhurried lovemaking, but for Peter every encounter with Valya still held a thrill and energy he treasured. He still couldn’t believe someone wanted him like this. Sometimes late at night he worried Valentyn was putting on an act, putting up with Peter because he was out of places to turn. All it took was a moment like now, though, for Peter to forget all his misgivings.

  Valentyn was as nervous as he was, for different reasons, but undeniably uncertain about pretty much everything. For all Valya’s teasing about how Peter would have seduced him, he wasn’t sure of that. When he could see Valya so clearly, when he remembered his lover’s own insecurities, he wondered if the only path to this moment was the one they were on.

  He didn’t have any answers, but he did have Valya in his arms.

  Peter helped Valentyn divest him of his clothes, helped Valya out of his own. He wrapped his arms around Valya’s neck as they kissed openmouthed, tumbling back to the bed. He arched his back and groaned softly as Valya trailed hot lips down his throat, latching on to his clavicle.

  They hadn’t had a steamy, explosive night since the day they went to Rocky Mountain National Park for their date. Peter never forgot what Valya had said about his former relationships, how his partners had always found him cold and distant. Peter could see that shell forming around his fiancé, a protecting film getting harder by the day. While this would be a thrilling session of lovemaking for Peter, he could also feel Valya pulling back.

  Peter longed to draw him forward, to reassure him. To show he could be a safe place for all of Valentyn. He longed for it, but he wasn’t capable of it just yet.

  Soon. I’ll be the man you deserve, Valechko, as soon as I can.

  THE day Valentyn introduced Peter to Dennis was also the day Peter caught him smoking.

  They’d planned to meet at Valentyn’s condo and have a cookout in his small backyard, but as the hour came closer for their arrival, Valentyn’s nerves got the better of him and he sat on the back step with the glass jar that served as his ashtray, chain-smoking. He’d meant to stop in time before either of them arrived, but Peter was early and came directly to the garden gate. His eyes went wide and he pointed accusatorially at the cigarette in Valentyn’s hand. “You’re s-smoking!”

  Valentyn tipped the ash into the jar, feeling his ears heat. “I was nervous.”

  Peter was not pleased. “I didn’t know you… smoked still. I thought… you only did in… Kyiv.”

  Valentyn glowered. “I don’t smoke very often here. I can’t. It’s impossible to smoke in this city. Not even in my own condo. My landlord won’t allow it.”

  “Your f-fiancé doesn’t either.” Peter folded his arms over his chest. “You should qu-quit.”

  “I can’t possibly now. Not with all this stress.” He wanted another one right now, in fact.

  Peter glared at the pack beside Valentyn. “It’s b-bad for your h-health. Your heart and lungs.”

  Valentyn was about to retort that drinking was bad for his liver, his heart, and his digestive system and he wasn’t giving that up, but before he could speak the gate opened again and Dennis entered. “Is he smoking again? Val, I will take you over my knee.”

  The argument over substance abuse was forgotten as Peter startled, then shut down. He froze in place, panic flashing over his face before he went blank and rigid. Swearing, Valentyn went to him, drew him close, and cast a censorious look at his friend. “Dennis, I told you I needed to introduce you, that you couldn’t barge in.”

  “Sorry. I heard you two arguing and had a feeling it was going to get intense if I didn’t jump in.” Dennis hovered in the gateway, holding a six-pack of local microbrew. “Should I go?”

  Valentyn pressed his nose into the hair above Peter’s ear. “Koshenya?”

  After a moment, Peter thawed enough to shake his head, almost imperceptibly.

  Valentyn nodded at Dennis. “Come in. You and I will talk, and Peter will let me know if he wants to say something. I think he’s going to need a minute because you startled him.”

  Dennis looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

  Valentyn accepted one of the bottles of beer and chatted idly with his friend, arm still around Peter. After fifteen minutes he stopped midsentence as Peter tugged on his shirt. Peter whispered hesitantly in his ear, but what he said made Valentyn turn scarlet.

  Dennis grinned. “What’d he say? This has to be good.”

  “Mylyy,” Valentyn pleaded, but Peter only tugged again. Valentyn sighed. “H-he says to tell you that you can’t sleep with me anymore.”

  Dennis roared with laughter. “Look at you blush! I never thought I’d see it. Pete, no worries, I’ll leave him in your care from now on.”

  Another tug, another whisper. “He says to call him Peter.”

  “Noted. Peter, I like you already.”

  Peter didn’t drink, but he did take over the grill while Valentyn and Dennis chatted and hit the beer hard. Valentyn couldn’t calm his nerves, and as he finished off his second bottle, he took Peter’s hand and kissed it.

  “Mylyy, please. I need to smoke. I can’t calm down.”

  Pursing his lips, Peter shook his head and focused on the grill.

  Valentyn fell to his knees, ignoring Dennis’s wolf whistle. “I’ll walk or ride my bicycle for the rest of the week.” When Peter gave no reaction, he tried for more. “For two weeks. For a month.”

  Peter cast him a sidelong glance.

  Valentyn seized this crack in the facade. “I won’t touch my car for a month. I’ll give you the keys. And I’ll install a conservation showerhead and bring my own bags to the grocery. I’ll ride a bus to get the showerhead.” When Peter’s gaze narrowed, he held up his hands. “I’ll ride my bike! My bike!”

  Sighing, Peter nodded at the pack, then held up two fingers.

  “Thank you very much,” Valentyn murmured as he dove for his cigarettes and lighter.

  Dennis grinned and settled his hands behind his head. “Peter, I like your style.”

  Glancing up from his lit cigarette, Valentyn caught Peter’s shy smile. It vanished as he saw Valentyn’s cigarette, though, and he held out his palm.

  With a heavy heart, Valentyn passed over his keys.


  Chapter Fifteen

  MEETING Peter’s mother and stepfather was every bit the adventure Peter had promised. Diane Hahn was even more intense than Valentyn imagined, and it only took five minutes to see why she and her son were such a bad fit. While Diane clearly loved Peter, she seemed more concerned with fixing him than working with who he was. At the same time, she sometimes said wise things to him, making the end result a mess of problematic efforts and useful ones. All the while her husband, Terry, either said nothing or did his best to stay out of the way.

  Diane wasn’t happy with Valentyn and Peter’s upcoming marriage. There was no reason for them to move so fast, she said several times, often interrupting Peter’s explanations until he shut down entirely.

  It was then that Valentyn stepped in.

  “Ms. Hahn. While it’s regrettable you can’t give us your blessing, it’s not required. It was important to Peter that we tell you in person, but if you feel you can’t accept this, we’re happy to give you some time.”

  She blinked, still ruffled but settling down somewhat. “Well, I’m glad to hear I was able to bring you to your senses. It’s too soon to get married.”

  Peter tensed. Valentyn laced their fingers together and spoke again. “You misunderstand me. We’re still marrying on the timetable we’ve set. But we’ll understand if you can’t attend the wedding.”

  Diane sputtered, looking from Peter to Valentyn and back again. “I can’t believe this. Peter, what are you thinking? You can’t be thinking. What does this man have over you?”

  Valentyn could visibly see Peter shutting down, his expression going from frustrated to wooden. He wondered if Diane couldn’t see it, or if she thought pushing somehow would be good for her son. He wondered too why Peter hadn’t written to his mother instead of insisting on this meeting which, as predicted, had been a disaster.

  Then he remembered how he had yet to work out a way to come out to his parents, let alone tell them he was getting married. How every time he thought about it, part of him spiraled into chaos and terrified stillness.