The Professor's Green Card Marriage

by Heidi Cullinan

  Ah.

  Shifting in his chair, Valentyn leaned forward, doing his best to physically put some of himself in front of his fiancé. “Ms. Hahn, I must ask you to calm yourself, or Peter and I will be leaving. As you can see, you’re upsetting him. I don’t have anything over your son. I have deep respect and admiration for him on many levels, and I care for him a great deal. I’m honored he’s agreed to marry me. It’s also my privilege to protect him when life becomes too much for him. I know him well enough to tell he’s at that point right now.”

  Diane stiffened, ready to go at Valentyn again. Peter remained quiet, giving no reaction at all. To Valentyn’s surprise, Terry leaned forward and put a hand on his wife’s thigh. “Honey, I think you should take a deep breath.”

  For a second Diane looked as if she might fight him too. Then Terry tightened his grip on her leg, and this somehow freed her enough to truly see her son. Her form crumpled, and she cast her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, Peter. I did it again. It’s all my fault. I’m really sorry.”

  Peter remained inert. Valentyn squeezed his hand and addressed Diane with an even softer voice. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood that this was somehow about permission. I think you must know it isn’t something that’s required.”

  Diane’s fire bloomed again, this time aimed at herself. “I always do this. I’m sorry, Petey. I’m sorry. I just… I want to help you. I don’t want to see you like you were again. I don’t know how you got there, and I just want to protect you so it never happens anymore.”

  “It’s my pleasure to protect Peter,” Valentyn said, “and to be protected by him in return.” He smiled sadly. “I don’t pretend to be perfect, and part of me is quite certain I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as your son. That said, I’m grateful he chose me, and it’s my honor to choose him in return. We’re still learning each other, and yes, it’s happening a little faster than is usual.” Pausing, he leaned in and whispered for Peter’s ear only. “I’d like to tell her about my status. I think it might soothe the situation. If you can’t tell me right now if you agree or not, maybe step into the other room and text me?”

  Peter kept his gaze down, but he shifted so he could whisper back to Valentyn. It took him several seconds to get sound out. “J-just s-some.”

  Squeezing Peter’s hand in acknowledgment, Valentyn turned back to Diane, who leaned into her husband as she wiped her eyes. “On the point of whether or not we can take things slow, I’m afraid that’s not an option. Unexpectedly, my work visa has been denied. While I’m doing what I can to appeal it, there’s some chance it won’t go through a second time, or that I’ll have to return to Ukraine to wait for the result. Neither of us want this option.”

  Peter squeezed his hand sharply. Obediently, Valentyn stopped talking.

  Diane frowned. “So this is a green card marriage?”

  Valentyn shook his head. “I care for your son. This is a real relationship. However, it’s true our timeline has been jumbled a bit.”

  She became agitated again. “But that’s not fair to Peter. You’re using him!”

  “Ms. Hahn, I assure you that the law works entirely in your son’s favor. Should he decide to divorce me before my green card is issued, nothing happens to him at all. It’s me who will be deported at once to Ukraine.”

  Peter thawed enough to tug Valentyn closer to him. “N-no.”

  Valentyn nuzzled Peter’s temple briefly. “Yes, mylyy.”

  “I w-won’t.”

  “The point is,” Valentyn said gently, turning back to Diane, “is while I benefit from this hastening of our relationship, Peter will not be hurt by it. It’s my hope I can be a help to him in many ways as well. But you asked why we’re moving so quickly, and this is the answer.”

  It was clear no matter how Valentyn soothed her, Diane would retain reservations about their marriage, but as they left, he at least thought they’d done the best they could. Peter, however, was exhausted, wrung out like a battered cloth.

  In the car, driving out of Diane and Terry’s neighborhood, Valentyn stroked his fiancé’s hair. “I know we’d planned to see my lawyer today as well, but perhaps I should reschedule or see him alone this time?”

  Eyes shut, Peter shook his head. “Have to get used to him.”

  “Very well.” Valentyn didn’t like seeing Peter push himself so hard, but he also wouldn’t stand in his way. “I’ll give you the keys, though, and if you need to leave, please do. I won’t be upset, and I’ll explain everything to Kevin.”

  When Peter fell asleep half a mile later, however, Valentyn shot off a quick text to his lawyer at a stoplight, informing him they’d be a little late. Once in downtown Denver, Valentyn drove around the block until the last possible second he thought he could get away with. As usual Peter woke immediately once they parked.

  After glancing at the dashboard clock, Peter quelled Valentyn with a stern look.

  Valentyn pretended not to notice. “I’m thinking of trading my car in for an electric one, or at least a hybrid model. Because I’m not going to stop driving around or idling the car when you need to rest.”

  Peter snorted, but he also smiled. “Electric cars don’t rumble the same way. And hybrids turn off.”

  Though he meant to tease Peter with a brush of his hand across his lover’s hair, Valentyn’s heart also caught. “Then I’ll have to keep convincing you to be kinder to yourself.”

  Peter caught Valentyn’s hand and kissed his palm. “Thank you for what you did at my mom’s.”

  “Anytime.”

  They didn’t hold hands on the way into the office building, but they stood close enough a part of Valentyn’s brain itched with long-instilled fear of getting caught. He wondered if he’d ever get over that.

  Kevin greeted Valentyn warmly as they entered, then shook Peter’s hand. The nap had been good for Peter, and though he was still withdrawn and quiet, he wasn’t shut off as he’d been in Littleton.

  “Congratulations, first of all,” Kevin said as they all sat down. “When’s the big day?”

  “Next weekend.” Inside the office, Valentyn could once again take Peter’s hand. “A small ceremony for friends in Peter’s family’s backyard.”

  Nodding, Kevin began sorting papers in front of him. “Good, good. I’ll submit the paperwork as soon as you get it to me. I recommend doing so personally, just to be safe. And of course we’ll get you reapplied for a new EAD at the same time. A shame it won’t arrive in time for the fall semester.”

  Peter glanced at Valentyn, a frown and a question on his face. Valentyn tried to smile back, but it was tired. “It takes five to seven months for my employment authorization documents to go through. While CU has made it clear they’d like to offer me a full-time job, I can’t work until I have the proper papers. Don’t worry. I hoard money like a miser. I won’t be a burden to you.”

  Peter’s gaze became flinty. “I-I’ll get a n-new job.”

  Valentyn melted. “Hush, mylyy.”

  Kevin grinned. “You kids. All right. Let’s get started. I’ll explain the process to you as I expect it to go forward. Essentially it’s a lot of filing paperwork and waiting until the marriage interview. Document everything you do as much as possible, on social media and with photos. I’ll be with you both at the interview, as per Val’s request, but I’m there for you both. Peter, we’ll get you comfortable enough with me that you can speak freely to me by then. Sound good?”

  Peter laced his fingers through Valentyn’s. “Yes.”

  “HOW did it go?”

  Peter stood next to Aunt Helen in the kitchen, shucking peas from the garden into a bowl as she fussed with the rest of dinner. He popped another pod before replying, sending out some of his frustration in the process. “Terrible. I shut down.”

  “Mmm.” Helen dumped spaghetti into a boiling pot of water. “That’s about what I expected.”

  His next squeeze sent a pea flying across the counter. “I hate that it has to be this way.”
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  “Things are the way they are. You went through it, though, and you came out the other side. Now you can continue planning the wedding. I got all the supplies you asked for, by the way. Put them on the back porch.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you going to be okay with his friend there? What was his name again?”

  “Dennis. And yes. I’ve met him twice now, and I’ve managed to say a little.”

  “Do you still plan to try to say your vows in front of everyone first? I know you two didn’t invite many people, but still. A little for you can be a lot.”

  Peter wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I want to try. It’ll help that it’ll be you officiating and Uncle Joe standing up with me. The only stranger up there will be Dennis. I’ll just do my best to forget everyone is watching.”

  “Don’t worry about it if we have to do the official part away from everyone else. In fact, I think we should actually do it that way so there’s no pressure. Nobody needs to know the main event is a ceremony for show.”

  That was a good idea. Very Helen. He sighed, though. “I’m sorry I’m so much work.”

  She nudged the back of his knee with hers. “You’re not work. You’re family. End of the discussion.”

  Her words made Peter feel warm, made the rest of his confession spill out. “I worry that it won’t work. That we’re moving too fast. We have to, but I worry.”

  “It’s a whirlwind, that’s for sure. And I won’t lie to you, hon. It might not work. Except I know you, and you’ll work at it. Nobody can guess where you’ll be in three years. You might have settled into something calmer. You might be more in love than ever. You might be something completely different. You can work at any of that, though. That’s the joy of marriage. Working together to make something new.”

  Peter wanted to believe that. He did believe it was theoretically possible, but he worried they had too many obstacles, that they’d gotten together based on too many complications. And this part he would never bring up with Aunt Helen, but he worried a lot about what their sex life meant. Valya was so careful with him, so… dutiful. Those first few times had been thrilling and full of wonder, and perhaps he was reading into this because of what Valentyn had confessed about his previous relationships, but Peter was increasingly convinced Valya wanted to put him in the category where they remained distant to one another. He didn’t know that for sure, but he worried about it, and he lost confidence every day that he could change things back.

  It felt like there were so many ways to do this wrong, and here they were about to get married.

  He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said I wanted a real relationship. Maybe I should have kept it a marriage of convenience.”

  Helen snorted. “With the way the two of you look at each other? Good luck with that.”

  She had her back to him, but Peter turned his head to stare at her. Was that a joke? Did Valya really look at him in… some way?

  Did he look back?

  He didn’t have answers. He did, however, have a wedding to prepare for.

  Also, peas to shell. He squeezed another pod, which burst with a satisfying pop.

  Leaning around him, Helen snatched a pea for herself, then pressed one to Peter’s lips. “It’s going to be fine.”

  He hoped so, he thought as the sweet tang of raw pea burst across his tongue. He sure hoped so.

  Chapter Sixteen

  FROM: valyashevchenko@gmail.com

  To: pgrunbergfortheplanet@gmail.com

  Subject: I am ridiculous

  Koshenya, it is two in the morning. I’m sitting beside you as you sleep, not wanting to disturb you almost as much as I want to wake you up and speak to you. Except for once, I’m the one who doesn’t know what to say. So I’ll do my best here. My best aided with a substantial amount of vodka.

  I’m so afraid, Petrush, that this is wrong. Very well, I know it’s wrong, but I don’t see any other way forward. You deserve better than this. You deserve for someone to woo you properly, to kneel down and confess undying love to you, to take his time with you before proposing, then give you time for a proper wedding. Knowing and caring for you as I do, if you were to come to me and tell me someone treated you like this, I would drag them to the ground. First because you should have the world, not a mess. Then I would drag him a second time because my teeth would ache so much from my jealousy that someone else had you instead of me.

  I’ve confused myself so much. I feel I must be absolutely terrible to know you deserve better but not allow you to have it, all for myself. I am so selfish. You shouldn’t be with me. You should be with someone better. Someone who won’t use you for their own gain. Someone who won’t put himself above you.

  Except I love you, mylyy. I love you more than I love anything in the world. If I were deported, at this point being without you would be worse than leaving my home, worse than any persecution I might face, any hardships of war or politics.

  I don’t know how you can love me, a wreck of a man such as I am. But my whole body, heart, and mind belong to you, should you care for any part of them.

  Ah, I can’t send this now. It’s too much. But I can’t delete it either, and somehow I must tell you. Tell you that you are my sun, moon, and stars, and if you will only allow me this one moment of selfishness, I will give you the whole of the rest of my life.

  I want

  CLUTCHING the vodka bottle in one hand, his empty glass in the other, Valentyn left the bedroom, listing slightly from side to side as he went. He wasn’t sure exactly where he headed—away, was all his brain would tell him. Away from Peter.

  The thought made him feel hollow and sad. He paused to press his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes.

  Then he straightened, took a swig from the bottle, and continued on toward the stairs.

  He was a bad person, he acknowledged as he poured himself a liberal glass. He shouldn’t be drinking before his wedding day. He shouldn’t be getting married. He should….

  Frowning, Valentyn took a heavy drink. He didn’t know what he should do. That was the trouble. Ukraine certainly didn’t want him, not as he was now. Did they have a file on him? Did the United States? Sometimes he sat up wondering about that. He vacillated between chiding himself for paranoia and cold certainty that he’d exit the airport in Kyiv and be taken away to some nameless camp. Things weren’t that bad yet, he didn’t think. But the few gay men he kept in touch with there seemed uneasy. What if the West abandons us? One friend had written this last week. What if the West stops caring about Ukraine, decides we’re too corrupt, too close to Russia, and Russia takes us back as they’ve wanted all along? Then they’ll come for us. You shouldn’t come back. Do whatever you must to stay away.

  Valentyn stared grimly at the bottle label as he peeled at the edges. Whatever he must? Including entangle someone else, someone innocent’s life with his own?

  He couldn’t. He mustn’t. He had to stop this before it was too late.

  And then what? Then what will you do?

  He had absolutely no idea. Drink vodka until I die, perhaps.

  It sounded as good a plan as any.

  There was a gap in time as terror slammed against his mind, impeded only by the increasing flow of vodka. Then he tried to lift the bottle to his lips, but before he could manage, it was taken away. Blearily, he lifted his gaze.

  Peter held the bottle.

  He looked glorious in the dim light, backlit by the bulb above the sink and the light from the hall, his dark blond hair lit like a halo around the edges. Valentyn couldn’t see his face clearly, but he could make out enough to recall how much he adored seeing that face, that silhouette, that everything.

  I’ll miss him so much. I don’t want to push him away, even though I know I need to.

  “I’m such a bad person.” He blinked after he said it, not sure if he’d done so in English or Ukrainian.

  After setting the vodka on the counter, out of reach, Peter pulled out a chair,
drawing it closer as he sat. “I read your email. The one you left open on the computer but didn’t send.”

  Valentyn snorted. “Should have put the computer away.”

  “Stop speaking in Ukrainian.”

  He grumbled and reached for his glass. It was empty. One look at Peter told him reaching for the bottle wasn’t going to go over well.

  He knew better than to ask for cigarettes.

  Just take it anyway. Who cares what he thinks.

  I care. I care a great deal what he thinks.

  Swearing hotly in Ukrainian, Valentyn put his head down on the table.

  A warm hand threaded through his hair, soothing, kneading. “You were wrong in your email. You aren’t terrible.”

  Valentyn shut his eyes, his whole world narrowing to the soft strokes of Peter’s fingers.

  Peter kept talking. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. I want to marry you. I want to build a real marriage with you. I want to help you. I want you to help me. I want us to help one another. I don’t want anyone else. Only you.”

  Valentyn let out a ragged sigh. “But I’m so awful.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “I want a better person for you than me.”

  “I don’t. Doesn’t what I want matter?”

  Curling his lip, Valentyn sat up and gestured at himself. “You want this? Drunk man who hates himself? Smokes dirty cigarettes?”

  “I want the man who smiles at me, who takes care of me, who has helped me carve out a life again. I don’t care if sometimes he’s drunk or that you sneak more and more cigarettes every day. Well, I care, but I want to be with you as you struggle, to help you find your way out. As for hating yourself, I hate myself sometimes too. Perhaps if we love each other, we can each learn to love ourselves.”

  “You don’t have trouble speaking to me anymore.”

  “I do. But I’m better at getting out of my own way, when I’m with you.”