Tori
Chapter 12
As I sat in another private jet, this time en route to Budapest, I barely registered the luxury all around me. I had a pounding headache and a sour stomach, just as hungover as Stefan had warned, and it was all I could do to keep from getting sick. Besides the aspirin I’d taken this morning, he had ordered me a ginger ale and forced me to eat some crackers when we’d first taken off—all of which had helped, but I’d learned my lesson. I was never drinking again. At least, not like I had last night.
Our in-flight lunch was ash in my mouth as I kept reliving my argument with him from the night before.
I knew that I shouldn’t have provoked him. Especially since I’d never truly entertained the possibility of cheating on him with that other man—Stefan might not wish to concern himself with honoring the marriage vows we’d taken, but I wasn’t a cheater. However, I was sick of being treated like an annoyance or an afterthought. No one had told me that this whole vacation would be a business trip, or that my new husband would seem to have next to zero interest in getting to know me better. Or that he’d be sleeping around with other women before we’d even consummated our marriage. If that’s really what I’d seen about to happen.
While I had been sitting on the couch last night, stifling my tears and picking at the food I’d ordered to be delivered to the suite, the only thing that had made me feel better was thinking about why I was doing this.Thismeaning the marriage to Stefan.
I was doing it for myself. For my future. For my love of language.
It had helped me in that moment to remember why I loved it so much in the first place.
Too dizzy from the alcohol to be able to close my eyes, I’d spent the next few hours going over the etymology of words in my head until the floor stopped tilting and I was finally able to drop off to sleep. The word game was a trick I’d learned when I was little. On nights I couldn’t sleep because my father had been out of town for too long (and he’d missed too many goodnight phone calls), I’d hide under the covers with my flashlight and his massive old dictionary. Paging through the definitions and roots, inhaling the comforting, almost-vanilla musk of its paper-thin pages. With that dictionary, I was able to look up any word I could think of—or one I’d chosen at random—and completely lose myself in its meaning. Most of the time I’d wake up with the book still sprawled beside me, not even remembering when I’d drifted off.
“How’s the work going?” I asked, finally giving up and setting my fork down.
“Hmmph,” Stefan grunted.
He was taking up all the seats across the aisle from me, his laptop and phone and a thick file of model portfolios spread out on all the tray tables in his row.
“Let me know if you need anything?” I said. He nodded noncommittally.
My husband hadn’t spoken any full sentences to me since our argument. Instead, he’d woken me up this morning and barked out brief orders for me to pack and be prepared to leave by a certain time. Since then, nothing.
I hoped his reticence would dissipate by the time we landed.
Despite this rough patch, I was looking forward to our time in Budapest. Vienna—regardless of all my frustrations with Stefan—had been absolutely beautiful, and though I’d only gotten a glimpse of all it had to offer, I couldn’t wait to explore another historic city. Even if I had to do it without my husband. At leastoneof us was going to enjoy this honeymoon.
I was determined to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime trip. I would just have to find a way to reconcile myself to the fact that this truly was a marriage in name only, and that Stefan had no intentions of consummating it—or letting things go any further than the confines of a transactional relationship. I still wasn’t sure if he had been more upset that I’d stood him up for dinner and more or less disappeared on him, or that he had caught me flirting with a stranger. Either way, he didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would allow me to seek out a lover over the duration of our marriage…even though it seemed he was fine sleeping with other women himself. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Rules were different for men like Stefan. Men who were rich, powerful, and intense. Men who were used to getting what they want.
Not that it mattered what kind of rules Stefan set for me. I’d already realized that when it came down to it, I didn’t actually want to sleep with anyone else.
It seemed I was destined to remain a virgin for the foreseeable future.
Budapest came into view from the plane window, and I leaned closer to take it in. I saw a spire-topped building that resembled a wedding cake, a bridge spanning a winding river, and a sprawl of boxy buildings in pastel colors. Already I could see it was a beautiful city, full of history and gorgeous architecture. It would be an exciting place to explore and learn about.
I had prepared for this trip in my typical nerdy linguist way, spending the flight scrolling through an e-book I’d downloaded on Hungarian, the official language. I’d wanted to research Hungarian words, particularly ones that had no direct English synonyms. Those were some of my favorite words in any tongue. I loved the way the specificity of other languages revealed cultural quirks or preferences, or was a necessary means of ensuring survival. For instance, the Sami people who lived in northern Scandinavia had almost two hundred totally unique words to describe all the different types of snow and ice. How amazing was that?
Elmosolyodikwas one such unique word in Hungarian, with no exact English equivalent. It was also a mouthful. It meant ‘to smile,’ but in a very particular way. It was the act of starting to smile, but in a manner that was subtle. Similar to a smirk, I supposed, but without the smugness or conceit.
I had thought of Stefan when I first found that word. He smiled sometimes, yes, and I’d seen him laugh enough times, but there were times when I would catch him looking at me—just before he’d turn away and pretend that he hadn’t been—and the expression on his face would be something that I could have sworn was the first hint of a future smile.
For some reason, it only made me want to coax him into smiling more, even though I knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate my persistence. He seemed to put a lot of effort into coming off as gruff and unfeeling, but I knew he had feelings. I knew he had desires. No one worked as hard as he did, or was as driven to take over his family’s business, if he didn’t have some sort of emotional reason behind it.
It wasn’t justelmosolyodikthat reminded me of Stefan. There was another Hungarian term that described our situation so perfectly that it almost hurt.Elvágyódáswasn’t any easier to pronounce, but of course I tended to love any term with an overabundance of syllables. The word was roughly defined as ‘the feeling of wanting to get away.’ Not specifically the desire to travel, per se, or go anywhere in particular…just knowing, innately, that you’re missing something from your current reality and that you want to escape and go find it.
The word perfectly applied to my feelings about our marriage, which was definitely missing something (beyond emotional engagement and sex) that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Because it wasn’t simply that Stefan was being distant or cold or cagey. I got the sense he was acting that way purposefully: holding himself back from me, putting things between us, and for a reason. I didn’t understand why, but I wished we could leave behind all the struggles we’d been having and get away. Go out into the world afresh, find what we needed to make this relationship work. I didn’t want to just flee this arrangement—I wanted to take Stefan with me.
I glanced over at Stefan, wondering if some part of him was feelingelvágyódástoo. Maybe he’d always felt that way. Maybe that was why he buried himself so deeply in his work. To get away from his life. But what if we could both get away—together?
“Elvágyódás,” I whispered, slowly sounding it out.
“Hmm?” Stefan said, turning my way.
I smiled. “Nothing. Just looking forward to this.” He nodded and went back to his work.
