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Mr. Ivanov made sure that no one’s plates were ever empty, or their glasses ever not full. Igor pushed me to take the smallest sip of vodka, but I nearly spat it out. I hated the taste of alcohol, even if I did feel a bit of a rush. There was roasted turkey and duck with cranberry sauce and a mixed green salad, all decorated with roses Roman had picked from the rose garden and tall, towering black candles lighting the room.
It felt, for the first time in a long time, like family.
I wished Grandpa could have been there to experience it with me.
These folks weren’t really so bad, after all.
“So what’s the plan, exactly?” Roman asked after Svetlana finished one of her stories. There was a bit of silence as everyone sipped on their drinks.
“Nikolai is almost ready,” Damien said. “I am still working out the details. But for now, we know one thing. Nikolai is safe. We have the mafia heir with us, and that is worth celebrating.”
Everyone cheered, including myself. We finished our meal and then retired to our respective rooms.
As I sat on my bed, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across the chilly room, I hoped that Damien would come and join me. I checked my phone, wondering if perhaps Grandpa had miraculously learned to text and sent a message. I saw it was 11:11pm and made a wish, as my parents had taught me to do:
Please God, let Damien feel about me the way I feel about him. And let us feel that way forever. Please God, don’t ever take him away from me. I’ve already lost so much.
Like clockwork, the moment I finished my little prayer, I heard Damien’s door open and then shut. Then there was a soft knock on mine.
“Come in,” I said quietly, hoping not to wake anyone else in the manor.
Damien peeked his head into the room. I waved him towards me, inviting him in, lifting the blanket a bit so as to invite him to join me underneath it. A rush of joy came over me as he crawled in next to me, giving me a kiss on the cheek to say hello.
“I couldn’t believe you kissed me on the cheek two days ago,” I said.
“Me neither,” he replied. “But I’m happy I did.” He kissed my cheek again.
“What if someone sees us together?” I asked. I traced the fingers of my left hand down Damien’s muscular right knee, stopping it at his kneecap, which I then knocked on as if it were a door.
“They’re bound to see us together eventually. So…who cares? I guess.”
“Do they know you’re gay?”
“They have their suspicions, I’m sure. No one here would care. I don’t necessarily hide it.”
“But you don’t speak about it?”
“No, I guess not. I guess I…was trained not to, by my parents.”
This time, I leaned in to kiss his cheek. His skin was rugged but smooth at the same time.
“Well, your parents aren’t here anymore. You have nothing to hide from.”
Damien grabbed my hand off of his kneecap, brought my fist to his mouth, and kissed my knuckles, holding them up to his mouth and rubbing them repeatedly against his lips as he lost himself in thought.
“What about you, Nikolai?” he asked.
“I’m out as gay. To everyone but Grandpa, and I don’t think he’d actually care. Even if I were dating girls, I’m not sure I’d tell him about it. We just don’t talk about…romance or sex or anything like that. My Grandpa is ancient.”
“No I know,” Damien said, no resting my hand against his chest. I could feel the thud of his heartbeat against my palm. It was such a gentle rhythm and yet it got me thinking about the rhythm of his body repeatedly bursting into mine hours earlier that day. “But, I mean, why would someone like you be single? You have to be the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met in my life.” He turned to me and kissed my lips. “And the hottest. What…I mean, what happened to you and your last boyfriend, for example?”
“There is no last boyfriend,” I told him. “I’ve never been interested in a relationship.”
“But why? When I was your age, all I could do was dream about relationships—about finding someone to love and to love me and who could save me from my pathetic, miserable life. Hell, I still feel that way.”
“Well, I know you can’t choose your parents, and you don’t choose whether or not you love them. And I did love mine. Their loss, two deaths at the same time, it hurt me more than I’ve ever found the words to describe. Many therapists have nodded their heads as if they understood my loss. Many people who have experienced their own losses tell me they understand mine.”
I felt a single tear form in my eye, dropping down my face like the snow outside melting off of Mom’s red roses.
