I smiled and shook my head.
CHAPTER 16 – Eye-to-eye
I always knew that hope was the vilest, two-faced, hypocritical feeling. It was the thing that was making you look forward to the future, making you want to fight, to see another day… Yet it wasn't as pleasing as people were making it out to be. Hope was filling you with anxiety, with fear of missing out on possibilities. Hope was making you look for a way out. And only once you realized that there was no way out could you let go of the suffering and just enjoy your last few days on Earth.
Which was exactly what me and Natasha had decided to do. To relax. To forget that we were under the worst of sieges. That the enemy could already be inside - perhaps it was even already beneath our skin.
Her apartment was occupied for the evening: she'd let the old man who had lived on the first floor to stay in her apartment. After the morning invasion, no one wanted to live on the first floor anymore - it was too dangerous. And so the refugees spent the rest of the day walking around, asking their neighbors to give them shelter.
"That poor man had nowhere else to go - no one else would have him," - Natasha told me later. "When I opened my door, he had such a pitiful look… I knew, if he was at my door, if he came all the way to the fifth floor from the first, then he truly was out of options. How could I refuse him?" - Natasha was pouring her soul out to me. I was just nodding in agreement, trying to remember where I was when he came to my door. Perhaps I'd just ignored his knock - I knew that if Maxim wanted to find me, he'd do just that.
So, for the evening, we decided to stay at my place. To leave the old man alone and not bother him with the things and talks of the youth. Natasha did ask him if he would be okay to stay alone for the night, to which he smiled and said that he had been doing that for the past twenty years. After that, she left him there with a clear conscience.
Through the walls, we could hear people talking inside Maxim's apartment: he had held a small gathering for the people who had helped him fight back the thugs earlier that day. Maxim hadn't been able to find anything that could help us get through the grates, but at the very least he had found some new compatriots, and just like us, they had decided to have an evening off. The day had been hard for everyone, so it wasn't surprising that they, too, decided to rest a bit just like us.
I didn't have a bar or anything of sorts: the only alcohol that had ever been to my apartment were the cans of beer from the closest store: on my way home, I rarely had the strength to look for anything better - the convenience was the deciding factor. They usually settled in my fridge and rarely stayed there for more than a few days. My fridge had been empty for the past few days: I had been surviving solely on buckwheat.
Natasha and Nikita, on the other hand, had a small stash of exotic alcohol. Not just the usual wine and vodka - but also things I didn't even know existed. Foreign spirits that, judging by their names, must've traveled halfway across the world to end up in our town.
That evening, I tried Limoncello for the first time - vodka made from lemon. At first, we were drinking it "as prescribed" - one part Limoncello, two parts water. But after the first hour, we gave up on that recipe, put aside the glasses, and started drinking it straight from the bottle, passing it to each other as we were sitting on my sofa.
"You know, it's going to sound really messed up, but... I'm glad you're also here," - she laughed. "I think I'd go crazy if I was all alone."
"It was the least I could do" - I joked. I had been feeling the same for the last few days, but I was too ashamed to voice it. Natasha, however, didn't have such problems.
She let out a short laugh - one of those which die mid-breath - and took another sip. Then she handed the bottle to me.
"Listen, while we're on the topic, there was something I always wanted to ask you - it's just that I felt uncomfortable asking you before. But since, you know..." - she twirled her finger in the air, as if trying to point at every part of the building at the same time.
I nodded and took a sip from the bottle. The alcohol burned my guts, but I noted that they were already on fire from anticipation. I was hoping that the fire wouldn't spread to my cheeks.
"Ask away" - I urged her on.
"Why didn't you go to study in that university you applied for? Did you not get in?"
I felt a bit disappointed. I had hoped the question would be different.
"I did" - I nodded and quickly took another sip - to drown that disappointment in the fire. Not to mention that Natasha was bringing up one of the least pleasant moments of my life, and I didn't want to remember it.
"Then why didn't you move out of town?" - Natasha wondered, taking the bottle from my hands. "I mean, I understand that this place is our home, but it doesn't mean we have to stay here forever. I'm sorry if I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, it's just that I've been telling Nikita that we ought to move out of town for ages, and look where him not listening to me had gotten us."
I eyed the bottle in Natasha's hands and bit my lip, desperately trying to suck the alcohol out of it. It didn't help. My admission was still going to hurt, no matter how much alcohol I'd drink.
"I withdrew my application."
"Why?" - I wasn't looking at her face, but I could tell that she was almost disappointed in my answer.
I sighed. While I knew the answer, it still wasn't easy to say it. I rationalized it internally, but the moment we started speaking about it, the moment I dragged it out of myself for everyone to see, I realized how silly it is.
"Because my mother... told me to."
There was no vocal answer, but I knew that there was a reaction. She was just processing the answer, and all the explanations and implications that were coming to her mind were making her uncomfortable.
"She wanted me to stay by her side" - I explained, though it didn't feel like I was talking to Natasha. More like I was trying to rationalize it myself. God, how hard it was. I didn't know whether it was because of the alcohol or because it never made sense in the first place.
"She said that she was scared of letting me go out there... I mean, scared of what would become of her. Said that the children owe it to their parents to stay by their side and take care of them once they become old," - I told Natasha. "And, I mean, I get it, children really are a crutch, in some way," - I added to provide an excuse, either for myself or my mother. "Who else will bring you a glass of water when you're old?" - I finished with a chuckle and a smile, looking at Natasha for the first time.
Natasha wasn't laughing. On the contrary, she was giving me a very serious stare.
"Yura, that's some pizdets[14]."
"Well, maybe in some way, but we still owe it to our parents, don't we?" - I awkwardly explained, wondering why was it so hard to voice it. If it was really an opinion that I was sharing, then why was it so hard to defend it?
"Not like that" - Natasha shook her head. "Parents shouldn't undermine their children and their future for their own sake."
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Tell me you think it's alright" - she suddenly pressured me. "Tell me that you think that it's alright that she made you withdraw that application for her own selfish reasons. Tell me that you want to stay in this town until the end of your days."
"Well, it's not like we have a choice nowadays" - I tried to insert a joke into the conversation to lighten up the mood, but Natasha wasn't swayed. She was adamant to get the answer out of me, and I knew she wouldn’t drop the topic. With a sigh, I took a bottle from her hands and took another sip.
"Of course, I've never wanted to stay here," - I said bitterly. "But… I don't know, I guess I'm used to her calling all the shots in my life. I'm not exactly… a decisive type. And here she offered me this apartment," - I waved my hand to encircle all the walls and suddenly realized just how much I hated them. "So, I stayed. I at least have something here. And it's not like anyone's waiting for me there," - I finished with a bitter smile.
"Did she tell you that?" - Natasha asked me. I chose not to answer.
"Yura, whatever your mother has told you, whatever you think about the reasons she might've had, you are not what she says you are. I've seen you these past few days, and you're not that. I saw a strong, confident, decisive man who was doing all he could to help others and find a way out while the majority of your mother's peers were sitting on their asses, waiting to be rescued by someone else. For God's sake, how many times have you risked your life for others just today?" - she asked me, suddenly taking my face into her palms. Her touch burned. "Look at me" - she told me, looking me in the eye. "I won't let you disregard that. You are not just her kid. You are a man of your own. Don't let her tell you otherwise. I know you're hearing her tiny voice in the back of your head right now. I know you're more comfortable with the idea that she's right. Parents… they can be like that, sometimes. But you're not the same person she's made you think you are. When the push came to shove - you've showed that you can call your own shots."
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but her speech moved me deeply. I didn't change my opinion on the subject in a moment, but it made me want it to be true. It made me want to believe that what she was saying was really true.
"I don't know, Natasha," - I told her with a sad smile. "I'm not sure I've changed in just a few days. I was just doing what was necessary, what was expected of me. It wasn't me who's started the militia, after all - I was just following Maxim's lead. That's all."
"That's my point, Yura!" - she exclaimed impatiently. "You can tell yourself whatever you want, rationalize it however you want, think whatever you want about what you are, but it is our actions that determine what we are - not our thoughts. You may think that you're no good, that you're dependent on others, that you're just doing what others expect of you - and yet that's not what I see. I see a man who's rushed into danger to save others on his own accord. I see a man who joined the militia because it was the right thing to do. Maybe before you didn't have a chance to expose that side of you, but in these last few days, you've changed quite a lot, all on your own. You've changed by embracing what's always been inside you. You just need to acknowledge that change, or it will go to waste."
"I don't know. I think if I really changed I'd notice it," - I said, shaking my shoulders.
"That's the trap of human condition, Yuri," - Natasha patiently told me. "We expect things to announce themselves to us. We expect changes to us to be like a job promotion, like a date that comes around. A momentary event. We expect some catharsis as if the change is supposed to be instantaneous. But the change is never like that. It is gradual, and sometimes you don't let it come to you - you have to accept it. Otherwise, if you don't notice the change within you, it may as well not be there at all."
"Wow" - was all I could answer to that. Natasha laughed and teasingly punched my shoulder. Then again. I didn't resist: her soft, playful touches were pleasing. "I am serious, you dolt," - she told me through laughter.
"I know, I know, it's just that… that's a lot to unpack there," - I told her, still smiling.
"I can imagine" - she said, her gaze wandering across the room. She must have been remembering something from her own past. "But please, don't disregard my words, Yuri. We just have to look at ourselves from time to time. That's the only way we can tell that something has changed."
"Do you really think I've changed?" - I asked her innocently. I wanted to hear her say that again. I wanted to hear her tell me what a good job I was doing. To pat me on the head. Some infantile part of me, the part that has yearned for a mother's affection - something it had never received enough of - wanted to hear what a good boy I was.
Luckily, Natasha didn't notice any of that. I didn't want her to pick up on that since it would go contrary to her ode to how much I've grown.
"Of course!" - she exclaimed. "Listen, Yura, whatever has happened today - you've done everything to make it better. And going down to that apartment to close the door while that thing was inside? That was the epitome of masculinity. I feel like I'm behind a stone wall when I'm with you," - she said with laughter. I felt a bit embarrassed, but Natasha just laughed again.
"Don't feel shy!" - she gave me a nudge. "It's true. When I was watching you today, while you were running around, trying to save people, or hearing about what you'd done afterward, I was thinking: 'wow, has Yura always been this manly? Why didn't I see this side of his before, where did that come from?'"
"You're flattering me" - I said, feeling flustered. I never knew I was having such an impression on Natasha, and it was very pleasant to learn it.
"I really don't" - she shook her head, smiling. "No chance, mister. You are brave, and decisive, and smart, and..." - she suddenly stopped and smiled, biting her lower lip. Usually, I wouldn't have the courage to ask her what she wanted to say - it was clear that it was something that would make her uncomfortable. But the alcohol and her speech made me loosen up, so I looked her in the eye: "And what? Come on, out with it."
"I just wanted to say that it's really surprising that you don't have a girlfriend," - she said, suddenly getting shy. "You're quite a catch."
There it was. She said it. I felt myself start to slightly tremble from anticipation. Did she mean it? Did she herself share that opinion, or was she talking in general?
Was I supposed to say something back, other than an awkward "thank you"? Would I ruin the moment, and with it, our friendship? My last friendship in the world, all things considered?
I looked at her. She was sitting there, looking at me with anticipation. Was she waiting for my reply?
"You are decisive, Yuri," - I reminded myself. "Be decisive till the end, whatever it may be."
"You're very beautiful, too" - I told her, before realizing that the words came out wrong. Damn it! I wanted to tell her that she was a great person. How did that become 'beautiful'?
But she wasn’t taken aback, didn’t purse her lips or tell me that I crossed the line, or that she didn’t see me that way. Natasha blossomed and let out the most genuine smile I had seen on her face since the beginning of lockdown.
"You really think so?" - she asked me shyly.
I decided to roll with it.
"I've always thought so" - I said, feeling my lungs become hot and my heart beating against my ribs. Some part of me wanted me to stop, to end the situation I ended up in, but I kept on talking, disregarding my nervousness: "I've always been glad to visit you guys because I've always thought that you're very beautiful and cheerful. You were always fun to be around. And..." - I braced before saying the next part.
"What are you doing? Stop!" - some part of me panicked at my newfound boldness. It wanted me to get back to my comfort zone, to get back to being just a shy introvert who needed the approval of others to act… But I kept on going anyway. I've been through way too many things to be concerned about such worries.
"...I've always envied Nikita. In a good way. Because he's found himself a great girlfriend" - I said, looking her in the eye. There it was. My confession. I was drunk, and the world was ending anyway, so why not say it as it was?
One moment passed. Then another. She was silent, and I couldn't read her. Her expression was not blank but at the same time more mysterious than Mona Lisa. Was that gratitude? Discontent? Anger?
I couldn't bear looking at her anymore, so I looked away. A few seconds later, I heard her move closer to me. I felt her breath on me, and then she whispered in a coarse voice: "I'm really glad you're here. And that you've finally said it."
Damn. She knew? Did she suspect something? I threw a quick glance at her, intending to just analyze the situation, to see what she was feeling… But once I looked at her, I couldn't look away. My gaze was glued to her eyes. At that distance, something finally connected, something established between us. Her facial expression wasn't a mystery to me anymore. It was an open book - as I was to her.
"Natasha, we can't..." - I said quietly.
"I know" - she answered.
We sat in silence for a few seconds, communicating with no
thing but thoughts and faint expressions.
"Can we keep this a secret?" - I asked her.
"From whom?" - she smiled at my question.
"From the whole world. From us" - I said the last sentence so quietly I myself barely heard it.
"Yes" - she soundlessly mouthed, slightly nodding. It was a secret she wanted to learn. If she had to take it to the grave, she was willing to pay that price. And I knew that, despite me having some resistance to the idea, it would inevitably crumble. My hesitation was nothing more than a play at that point - a play I knew the end of. A boring play. A play I wanted to walk out of.
We both wanted the same. To hide our shame, our improper feelings… But also to indulge in them. I sat closer to her. Our shoulders, hands, and knees touched. Natasha jerked away as if burned by my touch, but then pressed to me even closer than before.
"No one will know," - I whispered.
"Not even us" - she whispered back and leaned closer. I didn't lean back.
"I want it" - I wanted to say, but I didn't. Not a sound escaped my lips. She understood me all the same.
"Just a kiss" - she whispered to me, pushing her forehead against mine and looking me in the eye. Her voice was slightly trembling, and I couldn't tell what was causing that - nervousness or excitement. "I can give you just a kiss now."
"I understand" - I told her. Though I remained composed on the surface on the inside, I winced from how awkward our exchange was. What was I saying? Why was I talking about it as if I was bargaining with her as if I was accepting the terms of her offer in a conference room?
"I won't need more" - I added with passion and mentally patted myself on the back: that was more like it. That sounded smooth. Attaboy.
She leaned closer - so close I felt the warmth of her breath on me. A soft breath of a kitten, and yet I felt like it scorched my insides, made the blood rush. She was just out of reach, just a hair width away - so close that it was hard to tell if we were touching or not. She closed her eyes, and I could feel by the shape of her breath that her lips were slightly open. Waiting. Wanting. Short, sharp breaths. Hesitant to go all the way, but willful to come close enough that I had no choice but to do it.
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