Monogamy Book One. Lover: This is one love for life and beyond time
Page 2
‘I’ve brought what I promised!’ he says, holding out a package wrapped in beautiful paper.
‘Take it back. I told you, it’s not necessary!’ I say, with an unusual amount of dignity.
‘What are you up to?’ he asks, resting his elbows lightly on the worktop.
‘Peeling kiwis.’
‘For breakfast?’
‘Why not?’
I am aware of his gaze and it makes no secret of his real intentions. He is clearly interested and his look is persistent, confident, and ever so slightly sexual. Alex does not look anywhere but my eyes, as good manners require, but he wants to inspect my body and I can feel it, so I keep my eyes on his to prevent them from sliding downwards.
The basic rules of hospitality demand that I offer my guest coffee, however, so I have to turn around and, in that instant, I can see him out of the corner of my eye finally checking me out. I was right. I am mostly always right.
I am analytical by nature and by profession – I research the financial health of companies, market risks and trends, and develop strategies and business plans. I look at the world through the prism of my own expertise: absolutely everything that happens to me undergoes the most rigorous analysis. I am a pragmatist, not a romantic.
My brain has already compiled a list of reasons for this handsome man’s intrusion into my home, as well as a chart of possible outcomes for me. The question is, will I allow myself a bite of this cake? I’m not a saint but I am married, and up to now there has not been a single opportunity attractive enough to cheat on my husband. We have been together since we were young, almost from childhood, and I have never been with anyone but him. He is the only one who has kissed my lips. It’s rare, but that is my character, my temperament. Now, though, we barely even sleep together. We are going through a period of crisis in our relationship, or rather of stagnation. Life forces us to maintain contact, but the kind of intimacy needed for sex has been missing between us for a long time. During this difficult period, we are husband and wife in name only, but the pressured responsibility of ensuring our son’s happiness along with our Eastern mindset, which dictates that marriage is forever regardless of failures and mistakes in family life, mean that neither of us are thinking of divorce. I am waiting for that happy moment when my husband finally wakes up and grows up, when he understands that a man’s role is to shoulder responsibility for his family, when he starts taking care of its basic foundation – which I can safely say, as someone with experience, is not love, but material wellbeing. Despite romantic assurances to the contrary, feelings are dashed against the realities of everyday life and wilt under the heat of petty arguments brought on by financial problems.
I am still young and attractive, but under the heavy burden of bearing sole responsibility for our family and the need to do the work of two people, I have forgotten it. My femininity has been lost before I even had time to find it. I still don’t know if there is anything sexy about me.
Given all these reasons, I do not see how rejecting such an attractive man could be the only right and possible thing to do. But the most important thing is that I excite him and he excites me. The sexual electricity sparking from this man burns my skin. I have my back to him, but I can feel exactly where his gaze is resting on my body. And I should say that I can’t remember ever sensing a man so completely and so subtly.
I follow his gaze out of the corner of my eye and his extremely dark and extremely beautiful eyes are studying me, confirming my recent suspicion. I spin around quickly, catching my guest by surprise. Unable to pull the correct look and smile from his bag of good manners in time, Alex’s facial expression is genuine and animated, full of spirit. It sparkles with joy, pleasure, satisfaction, and with a thousand other things. As he is right now, Alex is even more handsome. His facial features are soft, but their beauty is neither brutal nor feminine. They are like an expensive cocktail: there is just enough of everything to create a magnificent taste. For the first time in my so far simple life, something primitive and animalistic starts to stir within me. It is important and new to me: I have built up enough knowledge and experience to understand the true value of things.
Alex asks if my son and I would like to go for a walk. He has a couple of spare hours and is eager to see the city, so would we like to keep him company. Timothy is still in bed and refuses to come with us, so the three of us set off for a wander around Chișinău – my home city. I tell him the history of the parks and buildings, of our circus and the Opera and Ballet Theatre. I’m a fairly decent guide because I used to earn money showing foreign tourists around when I was a student. There are a lot of interesting and remarkable facts I could tell you about our city, and even in four different languages if you’d like. My hobby is foreign languages. I can speak English and French almost fluently and have a basic knowledge of Spanish and German, not to mention my native Russian and almost native Ukrainian, as well as the official Romanian language, which I have to know.
Alex is particularly interested in buildings because he is an architect, so I show him some in the old town that I know various interesting historical facts about, and I also show him some new buildings, their glass walls stretching forever upwards. I admit that I much prefer modern architecture with its strong, simple lines and technical execution and Alex laughs suddenly, so I suggest we take a taxi – I want to show him a new residential building that I think is truly beautiful.
‘I can’t tell you how modern this building is!’ I gush excitedly. ‘It is shaped like a cascade, so each apartment has its own terrace, and the lower the apartment, the larger the terrace. It’s a building of the future because it is made from environmentally friendly materials, while energy-saving technologies are at the heart of its design, so it loses minimal heat during the winter! The entire roof and part of the balconies are covered with solar panels, so the building is completely self-sufficient in terms of energy use, which means it’s economical!’ I cannot hide my delight and nor do I want to. My eyes are ablaze.
Alex frowns in concentration: ‘There is still the issue of water, though; how to recycle the water used. That’s what is stopping it from being one hundred percent environmentally friendly and cost effective. It’s possible to do technically, but there is also an ethical side to it,’ he says, smiling. ‘People don’t want to wash themselves in water that has been in their neighbour’s toilet, even if laboratory tests show that it is completely sterile.’
My mouth drops open, something akin to shock flashes across my face, and Alex chuckles softly, enveloping me in a cloud of kindness.
‘It’s a test building and is based on one of my designs. We’re just starting to let people move in so we can check that all the systems work and I’m one of them. I live in a small apartment on the fifth floor,’ he says with another smile. ‘Actually, the largest apartments are on the fifth floor and the smallest are on the fourth, then they increase in size down to the ground floor. The fifth floor is the most unpredictable because it’s at the top, so it’s more susceptible to cold weather. The largest apartments could therefore end up being the coldest, despite the fact that they have been fitted with enhanced heating systems. We’ll see this winter, I guess!’ He flashes me one of his charming smiles.
‘Why are the largest apartments on the fifth floor? I don’t understand. It looks like the smallest,’ I say, my analytical brain whirring away.
‘It’s all about the layout,’ he explains. ‘From the fourth floor down, the apartments are laid out like a mirror image, they face each other, and there are eight apartments on each floor. On the fifth floor there are only three apartments. They also have the largest terraces.’
‘Cool,’ I murmur, but don’t say anything more.
‘Would you like to see my apartment?’
‘I don’t know...’ I say quietly.
‘But we’re friends now, aren’t we?’ And then that smile again, the most radiant smile I have ever seen in my life.
So the cocky young aristocra
t is trying to charm and seduce me.
‘Going up to your apartment feels a little inappropriate, especially now that we’re friends,’ I say, with as much charm as I can muster.
‘Well, let’s go and get some lunch, then. You choose!’
‘I’ll choose the most expensive restaurant I know, that’ll teach him not to be so full of himself,’ I think to myself. And I do.
*** ‘Not Today’ by Imagine Dragons ***
It is the most amazing lunch I have ever had in my life. I cannot remember the last time I felt so happy, carefree, and satiated. Danny amuses us with his antics and Alex is almost crying with laughter when he suddenly says: ‘How wonderful it must be to have children and a family...’
And he stares into my eyes so piercingly, it is as if he is trying to touch my innermost layers and see what is underneath. But what is there to touch when he has already seen how ‘perfect’ my marriage is? Especially when my husband calls me an idiot in front of strangers and oh so tenderly suggests that I shut up. Shame washes over me and I try to wipe the whole ugly scene from my memory because it is stopping me from enjoying the truly marvellous time I am having with this man, a man who is not of our world, our circle, our upbringing and education, or our capabilities.
His intelligence and natural tenderness are pulling me in like a magnet. I feel like a person next to him.
‘How do you know Russian so well?’ I ask out of curiosity.
‘You really think I speak it well?’
‘Well, yes. You speak like a native. But how is that possible when you’re American?’
‘I was brought up in a Russian-speaking family.’
I smile and feel a little envious. How nice to pick up an invaluable second language during your childhood without even really trying.
‘I’m only half Russian. My great-great-grandparents lived in Petersburg before the Revolution, but my great-great-grandfather moved the whole family to the US, to Chicago, while the other half of me is Spanish from my mother’s side.’
I find out years later that these immigrant ancestors were actually members of the Sobolev family, part of the Russian aristocratic elite. They miraculously managed to avoid the financial and human losses of the 1917 Revolution and not only kept hold of their money but also increased it, so much so that Alex has never known poverty and has always been given every opportunity in life. His ancestors were not only industrialists, but also had very good instincts.
‘Why did you decide to become an architect?’
‘What could be more wonderful than designing and building houses? Except for giving birth, perhaps, but I can’t do that, unfortunately!’
It is a joke and we both laugh, but his words leave a magical imprint on my heart. Too bad that this imprint completely ignored my overly practical brain.
CHAPTER 3. A SONG AND OUR FIRST KISS
Before long, my husband Timothy suggests we all go on a night out to a karaoke club. Karaoke is one of the things our family enjoys. We are always singing around the house and I have about thirty songs in my arsenal that I can perform particularly well. My voice is a fairly strong, throaty contralto with a velvety timbre and, when in the mood, I can make a serious impression. There have even been times when other people at the karaoke club have offered me money to sing their favourite song. My husband is always extremely flattered, although he can also sing well, especially anything by Viktor Tsoi.
It is a Friday and the club is packed, so we wait a while for our turn. I am a little nervous because I want to sing better than I have ever sung before. The quality of the karaoke club’s backing tracks is usually poor so I bring my own and, noticing that I have come prepared, Alex teases me a little. I have chosen Pink’s high-energy song ‘Family Portrait’ and sing it faultlessly. My appearance was carefully thought out in advance: a tight, figure-hugging black dress that accentuates my shapeliness – I need to use all my trump cards.
‘Family Portrait’ is a rhythmic song that requires some kind of movement, so I swing my hips in time; a little awkwardly, perhaps, but with meaning. Its effect comes as a surprise even to me. There are more than a few tipsy men in the audience and I can feel their glazed, lust-filled eyes drinking me in.
Anyway, my performance is spectacular, especially against the so-called singers who came before me. In fact, I manage to cause a real stir, which is exactly what I was hoping for. People rise to their feet in applause, while some particularly brave and daring youngsters to my right demand that I sing again.
Unsurprised – it is not the first time this has happened – I agree. A tall man with a broad smile pays for my next song, and I decide it is probably time to go for something more romantic. I choose Miguel Bose’s ‘Si Tú No Vuelves’, a heart-wrenchingly beautiful Spanish ballad, but it is sung as a duet between a man and a woman. There turns out to be a number of volunteers – more than I had expected, in fact – but Alex is not one of them. I choose a nice-looking blond guy whose voice I had admired previously and we don’t just sing the song well, we sing it stunningly. While we sing, I cannot stop myself from glancing at Alex (I need to see if it is having an effect), and he is looking at me as if spellbound, his eyes riveted on my face. Unlike Timothy, he is neither fidgeting nor flicking through the song catalogue. And when I reach the chorus, my voice rolling like a wave through the room, I could swear that Alex actually stops breathing. He smiles and his eyes are burning; he clearly likes my voice.
We spend the rest of the evening having a great time, with much joking, singing and chatting. Alex refuses to sing, saying that he is not nearly as good as us and doesn’t want to embarrass himself. A lot of alcohol is consumed and it is late before we go our separate ways.
I am my own mistress as I work from home, so I take a long holiday in the summer and spend time hanging out with Danny. Alex often joins us, sometimes with warning and sometimes without, or he simply finds us in the park, at the playground, in the garden, appearing as if from nowhere.
It feels as if Alex is deliberately giving out as little information about himself as possible, that he is merely creating the illusion of openness. Yet it is clear to me that his personality is as deep as the Mariana Trench, its darkness and mystery beckon, and the desire to get closer is becoming increasingly powerful.
Summer is all about sunny days, the sound of fairground rides, and children’s shouts, screams and laughter. We share memories and Alex tells me about his childhood adventures, about how naughty he was and how imaginatively he was punished. I laugh uproariously because he is actually really funny, and I am even envious – my own childhood was incomparably simpler and quite boring. Danny listens to Alex open-mouthed; he has never listened to anyone with such interest and even reverence. My son has found his idol, and the fact that it is not his father, but a complete stranger whom we know absolutely nothing about both pains and annoys me.
I have always been someone who sets boundaries, however. I know my own worth and the extent of my capabilities. Fully aware of my horizons, I never go beyond them and have no intention of doing so. I was raised in a conservative, straight-laced family, but that is just the beginning. There is also my innate coldness: Timothy aptly refers to my heart as the Arctic Ocean and my body as a block of ice. Realising my shortcomings, I have tried to make up for them and am slowly making progress, but anything more than flirting with another man is definitely beyond the limits of my world.
The astonishing thing is that Alex seems to understand this – perhaps he has experience and has known women like me before. I think he likes me, but I am not completely sure as what: just a friend or something else. The main thing is that he has not tried to develop our companionable friendship into anything more and I am grateful to him for that.
Why? Because moving our relationship to a new level would doom it to failure, and not only has my heart grown attached to him, but Alex has become my oxygen, my gulp of air in a small, stuffy room.
*** ‘Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door’ by Selig ***
It is on this day that I experience the most delicious and exciting moment of my life, one of those that remains a cherished memory and fills our existence with meaning, the kind that will flash through our mind as we depart this world – my first real kiss.
My ice-cream is melting just as quickly as Danny’s and is dripping down my chin, across my wrist, and onto my thigh. I laugh, throwing my head back and covering my eyes so as not to be blinded by happiness, and it is in this moment of weightlessness that I am suddenly aware of the lightest touch on my skin, like the wings of a butterfly. It flutters against my thigh then lingers on my wrist, but before its delicate wings reach my face, I force my eyes open and see only fragments: pink lips, a tanned cheek, the features and lines of a face silhouetted against the bright sunlight. My nostrils draw in his scent for the very first time and it is so strong that he is not just next to me but intimately close. His smell instantly takes me prisoner, overpowering me to such an extent that I have forgotten who and where I am.