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My cheeks flushed.
Me:Yes.
Maxim:The kitten has claws.
My other hand balled into a fist.
Me:Do you have a problem with that?
Maxim:Why would I?
Me:My father would have.
Maxim:Your father was a mudak.
Me:You wouldn’t have called him a shithead if he were alive.
Maxim:He isn’t though, is he?
Me:No.
Maxim:And isn’t life much better for it?
His words should have hurt me, but they were true.
Me:Why do you always answer my texts, Maxim?
Maxim:I like to know you’re safe.
Me:I mean nothing to you. I’m no one.
Maxim:That’s not true.
Me:It isn’t?
Maxim:No.
I had no idea why I typed my next message, but I needed to get the words out. Had to. It was imperative.
Me:I want to go to college.
Maxim:Then go to college you will.
Me:You wouldn’t have a problem with that?
Maxim:Why would I?
Me:I’m not naive, Maxim.
Maxim:I think you are, but I do not see naivety or innocence as a curse. My childhood was stolen from me, katyonok, at too young an age. As someone who starved, who hurt, who bled to stay alive, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Certainly not you.
Me:What am I to you?
Maxim:I think you know this. Naive or not.
Me:Tell me.
Maxim:You are my future, katyonok.
