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One
Sergey
My focus is sointent on giving my studio apartment a good scrubbing that I nearly miss the banging on my door and someone shouting from the other side. With an irritated sigh, I storm over and fling it open.
“Finally. What are you doing in here?” Scotty asks as he steps inside.
“Cleaning.”
His nose wrinkles as the smell of bleach hits him. “Why?”
“Because. Why are you here?” I ask, grabbing him a beer and tossing it his way.
“I was nearby and Sylvie called. Long story short, we wanted to invite you over today. The girls, particularly, are anxious to see you. You haven't been over in a bit.”
“I'll think about it.” Ignoring him, I return to my cleaning. I'm almost done.
“What? Are you too busy cleaning? That's what you want me to tell my girls? Take a break. The dust will be here tomorrow.”
I appreciate Scotty's friendship. He doesn't understand what it has done for me, what his family has done for me, during this time without my wife who isn't my wife.
“Serge,” he starts, and I can tell he's about to start in on me.
But a knock interrupts him before he can. I huff, even more irritated now. If another teammate is on the other side of this door, I'm going to punch someone. When I open it, my heart stops and falls to the ground. It can’t be. The cleaning products must have me hallucinating.
“Galina,” I breathe. Could she really be here? My wife stands with her luggage next to her. “What are you doing here?”
“Either give me a baby or give me a divorce,” she demands, her tone full of annoyance.
Behind me, Scotty chokes on his beer and coughs. Right. He’s here. At least that confirms Galina really is standing in my doorway.
Galina peers around me. “Oh, I'm sorry, Sergey. I didn't realize you had company. Hello,” she says to him with a tight smile and a small wave.
He waves and says hi back. His eyes bounce back and forth between us. Not knowing what exactly to do, I grab her luggage and bring it inside.
“Galina, this is my teammate, Scotty. Scott, this is my wife, Galina.”
His eyes nearly burst as he reaches out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. We'll have to get together at some point, so you can meet my wife and kids.” He clears his throat. “I'll talk to you later, Serge.” He slaps me on the back as he walks past me and lets himself out.
“So, this is your place?” she says a moment after he's gone as she gives my apartment a once-over.
“I'm sorry.” I know she is used to grandeur and fancy things. This apartment doesn't even have a proper bedroom.
Galina turns to face me with a smile. “I like it. Simple.” She glances down at her luggage. “Where should I put my things?”
“You're staying here?”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “You want me to stay at a hotel?”
“Well, there's only one bed.”
She waves a hand at the couch and plops down on it. “There's also a couch. Come sit; we have much to catch up on.”
“Yes. You show up out of nowhere and demand a baby or a divorce? What the hell?” I take a seat next to her. It's crazy that she's actually here. My brain hasn't begun to wrap around the complications of this yet. It's so odd to see her after so long without her. My eyes drink her in over and over, looking for what's the same and what's different. “You look amazing, Galina.”
She pushes her hair back behind her ear. It's an almost shy move, which is a bit of a wonderment because there isn't much that is shy about Galina. “You have a beard,” she says in response.
I laugh. When she last saw me, I always kept my face clean-shaven. I'm sure it is startling for her to see me like this. “I can shave.” Why I'm offering to do such a thing for a wife who is a wife in name only, I don't know. But without a doubt, I’d do it if she wanted me to.
