Handing the SG agent the Polish passport, he grinned. “Welcome back.”
“Happy to be here,” I answered in Polish. I desperately wanted to take off my hat because there was so much hair underneath it was uncomfortable.
“Russia is not a good place for people who are not Russian. Purpose of trip?”
“Visiting family.” I’d practiced these phrases over and over while Aaron had slept the night before.
“How long?”
“Five days.”
“Final destination?”
“Warsaw.”
He slapped the passport closed, and handed it back. “Welcome home. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling.
I walked ahead, and stopped a few paces away. Aaron was two people behind me in the line. He was wearing a plain blue button down, and dark wash denim. His hair was combed and trained and he was fresh-faced.
I had to ask him to not be him for this part of the plan. I was technically correct about the only law being one about propaganda in Russia, but the homophobia was rampant. Poland was only a little better, by not having a rule on the books about pro-LGBTQ propaganda. It had killed me to tell him to dress straight—but he took it in stride.
He looked just as good in a button down as he did in one of his T-shirts and wild hair. My brain still seemed to want to revolt against the idea of liking aman, but my dick was another story.
So, it seemed, was my heart.
Aaron walked to the SC officer and held out his passport.
“Welcome back.”
Aaron said nothing, but smiled politely.
Looking down at the passport, the guard flipped through the pages. “How long were you in Russia?”
Aaron stared hard at him, and confusion was on his face. The guard repeated his question. Aaron shrugged and started signing in ASL.
It was his brilliant idea, since he didn’t speak Polish or have time to really learn, and he was sure that most border guards didn’t know the difference between American Sign Language and Polish Sign language.
“You’re deaf?” The guard rolled his eyes. “Damn—” I didn’t get the other word he said. He raised his voice. “How long were you in Russia?”He made some vague gestures that made absolutely no sense and didn’t convey a thing.
Aaron squinted at him, and tapped his ear, shrugging.
“Fuck.”
I made it a point to learn all the swear words in a language after I learned the numbers.
Strolling back over, I smiled. “Is something wrong?”
“Do you know this man?”
“I saw him on the train. He’s deaf.”
Aaron spoke to me, [Why do they always raise their voices like they can get through a nerve that doesn’t exist?]
“Ah, he apologizes, his phone is dead. What did you need to know? I know a bit in sign language.” I grinned.Play it helpful.
“How long was he in Russia?”
