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“What are you doing here, Serge?” she whispers. “Shouldn't you be reuniting with your wife?” Good to know that Scotty came back and told his wife about what happened at my place. “Is everything okay?” When I still don't respond to her, she sighs. “I feel like you're going to steal my baby.”
That makes me smile. “I wouldn't,” I promise.
“Why do you like him so much?” she asks me curiously.
“Seth doesn't talk back to me; he just listens,” I admit. Why not? The world is falling apart. Who cares anymore?
“I can listen.”
I laugh quietly, doing my best not to jostle the boy. “You gossip.”
“I can keep secrets.”
“Can't you leave me alone?”
“I would, but normally, you come over, spend some time with my girls, and then ask to see Seth. Serge, you literally stormed into my house and took my baby out of his crib. I know you well enough by now to know that sometimes, for whatever reason, you spend time with my kids to feel better. Seth may be a good listener, but maybe you need someone to talk to. Do you want me to get Scott?”
I shake my head. Sylvia allows us to sit in silence for a few minutes until she can't take it anymore.
“What happened with you and your wife?” she asks gently.
Most people don't know I even have a wife. I take my privacy to the extreme sometimes. Because of that, it makes discussing my issues even more difficult. But I'm at a loss right now. Holding baby Seth has helped me relax some. It’s hard to hold tension in when holding a baby,
“My wife and I were set up by our parents. She hated the idea so much, but couldn't manage to find a way out of it. I liked her, so I didn't mind. But the moment we were married, she skipped out. She wanted nothing to do with me or our marriage. I had hockey to deal with by that point, so we easily went our separate ways. We keep in touch here and there. But now she's here for either a divorce or a baby because our parents are bothering her about that.”
Sylvia's eyes widen and she clutches at her chest. “Maybe you two can actually give it a shot.”
That makes me smile. I would like that, but I don’t see it happening.
“I doubt Galina wants that. Besides, I already told her I would give her the divorce.”
“Love always finds a way, Sergey.” She stands and pats my shoulder. “Stay as long as you need with Seth, but you are going home to your wife.”
Two
Galina
I don't knowwhat I'm doing here. Or if I should stay. My head and heart have been a constant jumble for years. I wouldn't know what was up if there was a neon sign pointing in that direction. My stomach grumbles. One thing I can do right now is cook something for dinner. I don't think Sergey would mind. But maybe I should put away some of my things.
I don't even know if he'll want me to stay, though. Curious nonetheless, I find that Sergey has three empty drawers and space in the closet. Has that space always been empty? Did he reserve that for me in the event I might show up one day? Has he been waiting for me to return all this time? What kind of man does that? Our marriage doesn't even mean anything. Scared to death that I'm yet again making the wrong choice, I hurry and unpack my things before tucking my luggage away in the closet. I'm not sure how long I'm staying, but might as well be comfortable while I'm here.
Then with a little hesitancy, I look through his kitchen to see what I can put together for dinner. Grabbing something here and something there, I slowly begin to put together a meal while feeling thoroughly out of place. As if I'm an intruder. I hate popping into Sergey’s life like this, but I need peace. Coming to see him with a set of demands seems like the only way to achieve that. Already the tightness that has been clenching my throat seems to be loosening.
My mind returns to when I told Sergey I’d found comfort from someone else. It was only a fling, but the look on Sergey's face when I told him and to see that he actually wears his ring astonished me. It may just be on a necklace around his neck, but it was more than I expected. My ring has been tucked away in a ring box for years. Sergey looked so betrayed to learn we weren't on the same level with the most basic of things. I can't say I blame him. He can’t blame me either, though. Our lives are entirely separate.
He's made quite a nice home for himself. Even though we never truly lived as a married couple or behaved as one, he sent money to me every paycheck. He didn't have to do that, and it felt weird for him to do so. I never spent the money. It's been in a savings account ever since the first check came. I need to make sure I give that back to him.
Now, I'm in his kitchen cooking dinner and our relationship is more of a mess than it was when we were first married. Or even when we first met. Sergey and I hung out together when we were younger. There was palpable chemistry then that led to some kissing and touching here and there. The chemistry smacked me in the face when he opened the door today. It seems to still linger in the air now, though he's not here; I'm trying to ignore it.
However, once my parents told me he was the one I was to marry, it was like everything shut off between us. He was colored in a new light and one I didn't like at all. I couldn't find a way to wiggle out of the wedding, but thankfully, I found excuses not to leave with Sergey when his hockey career took off.
Just as I plate my food, the door to his apartment opens. He walks back in, seemingly more relaxed. He stops short upon seeing me as if he forgot I was here.
“I hope it's okay; I got hungry.”
He nods, but doesn't move or say a word. An awkwardness and uneasiness hangs in the air between us.
“Would you like some?” I ask.
