Neither Here Nor There

by Nikki Harmon

  “Not here, Kim.” I hold my tongue and look at her in the reflection. She just shakes her head. We get off on the 12th floor and walk down a long, dim hallway. It is quiet, conservative, tasteful. I am getting claustrophobic. At last, she stops and sticks a key in a door while pressing her thumb to a pad on the right of the keyhole. The latch clicks and we step into a large and airy living area. There is a large chocolate brown leather sofa facing an even larger television screen with a scattering of DVDs and game disks in front of it. From the entrance, I can see the kitchen area, set off by a bar and large island with tall barstools. But the light coming in through the large windows catches me off guard after the darkness of the hallway. Meer steps over to a far wall and pushes a button. Privacy blinds descend from the ceiling leaving most of the light but obscuring the view of the city glowing in the late afternoon sun.

  She walks back to me and takes the food and my purse and sets them down on a table behind me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She steps in close and places her finger under my chin to tilt my lips up to meet hers. They are still cool from the outside, stiff in their unfamiliarity, their uncertainty. But all that soon melts away. When my lips touch hers, I almost weep with the gratification of homecoming. I have missed her so and I fall into kissing her like a prayer. She tastes the same, her lips soft but not weak, her mouth molding to mine as it has so many times. Her hand is on my back holding me close, the other entwines in the hair at the nape of my neck. I reach up and touch her cheek, her mouth, her delicate ear, remembering the shape of her face, the arch of her eyebrow. I touch a tear and wipe it away. With my other hand, I reach to her waist and follow the curve of her lower back opening to the swell of her ass. I am so lost in her, I don’t notice the passing of time until I hear her stomach growl. She laughs in my mouth and I swallow it like communion.

  “Hungry?” I whisper.

  “In so many ways,” she whispers back. She lifts her head to gaze into my eyes.

  “God, I did not know how much I missed you, Kim. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

  “Meer … I don’t want to talk.” She laughs, but I lift her shirt and cup her breast, her nipple hardening in my palm. She leans down to kiss me again, this time with growing passion. She takes my hand from under her shirt and pulls me into the bedroom behind her. There we kiss and undress each other. She pushes a button and Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get it On” spills out into the room. I laugh and she takes that moment to push me gently back on to the bed while she kneels over me and kisses me from my lips, down my neck, and lingers over my left breast. I swear my heartbeat speeds up just to match the rhythm of her breath. Her kisses resume, igniting small fires on my skin as they travel down to my hips. She takes her time unbuttoning my pants and pushes them down to my knees. I look down at her locks trailing along my skin, and my long-suppressed love for her nearly bursts my heart. As much as my clitoris is aching for her mouth, I want to feel all of her on me. The solidness, the realness of her is what my soul needs, so I pull her up and kiss her while I finish undressing the both of us. We sit naked for a minute, remembering and then we lay down and make love face to face, skin to skin, beating heart to breast, hips rocking a slow rhythm that I ride to an achingly sweet oblivion. At the moment of my orgasm, my closed eyes see Meer in a hundred universes, making love to me. At that moment, mySELF expands into herSELF and somehow they rise and crash in the same wave and I feel her orgasm as my own and there is something more. When mySELF … ourSELVES expand and shoot up and out we touch/ride/connect what I can only describe as a GODwave. It is electric and keen and full of raw power. It is the briefest of moments but time itself pauses to take note then we hurtle back down into ourselves and the wave crests and crashes and we float back into our separate selves. We lay still in each other’s arms. Slowing our breathing, slowing our hearts, staying quiet, not wanting to leave that sacred space.

  “My God Kim,” she murmurs. I kiss her, breathe her in. Her stomach grumbles. We both chuckle. I open my eyes and remember where I am. She pulls a thick down comforter on top of us and I nestle into her body.

  “Kim? I don’t even know what to say about ... did you…”

  “Shhhhh….” I cut her off. “Not yet, not yet, not yet.” And then I fall asleep.

  ∆∆∆

  Meer got up early in the morning and went to practice. I remember her kissing me on my forehead and promising to be back in a couple of hours. I try to fall back to sleep but the sound of her heavy front door closing and locking startles me and triggers a vigilance that I can’t shake. So I get up and play pretend. I take a 30-minute shower then put on some of her clothes and wash out my underwear in the sink. I eat some grapes and cereal. I play a video game. I stretch. I walk around the apartment and inspect her stuff. There is a picture of a woman I don’t know on her fridge. She’s cute, I guess. On her wall are some vacation pictures but all the people in the photos look like teammates. She has a laptop on a small corner desk but I don’t open it. I have some self-respect. I glance in her closets, they are full of work-out gear of course, along with fifteen pairs of sneakers and 2 pairs of winter boots. I look out the window and wonder what I will say when she comes home. Just after noon, she returns with bags of take-out. She seems surprised and relieved to see me.

  I get up from the couch and hug her tightly. Until she came back through the door, I wasn’t sure if she would. I am feeling a bit unglued. It is disorienting to shift through dimensions and travel back and forth in time but to be back in the same room with your ex, after years of getting over her … well that is a most disconcerting feeling. I cannot forget what she did to me. The betrayal and the abandonment have cut too deep but I still love her. She pulls away from me.

  “I’m sorry, really sorry for what I did to you and to us, Kim. I know I can’t change any of that now but I am. Being over here, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. But now that you are here, I want you to know that I am really sorry and I hope you can forgive me.” She let out a big breath.

  “You practiced?” I ask.

  “I wanted to get it right.”

  “I accept your apology. I’m sorry too.”

  “But you didn’t do anything.”

  “No, not to you. I’m sorry I followed you to Connecticut. Not because I didn’t love you. I did. I just should have loved myself more and pursued my dream, not yours.” Now, I exhale. I’d been practicing that speech since I finally figured it out. She absorbs that truth and nods.

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Well, I have. And your cheating put me back on track, so thank you for that … I guess.” She leans back on the counter and crosses her arms.

  “So are you a rocket scientist yet?”

  “Yes and no and almost. I’m at MIT but trying to get a fellowship at NASA … oh, and if that doesn’t work, a Fulbright to study … here, in Russia.”

  “Ahhh. Ok, well do I get a vote?”

  “No, not in the least.” She laughs.

  “Fair enough. How long are you here for?”

  “Not long … a few more days. I’m here with a friend who is also doing … research but we should be going back soon.”

  “You don’t have a ticket yet?”

  “It's kind of flexible … it’s hard to explain.”

  “Oh, ok. But you’ll be here tonight, right? Can you stay at least one more night? I got food.” She waves her hands towards the bags on the counter.

  “Yeah, I’m definitely staying at least one more night with you.” Her smile lights up the room and makes my heart flutter.

  After lunch, we play a couple of video games and talk. Meer leans back with her controller.

  “We have an away game tomorrow with Alapayevsk. The bus will pick me up at two, but if you want to come, I can have Sergey drive you there and then we can drive back together.”

  “Isn’t that the same team you played yesterday?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a small league and we p
lay a lot of back to backs. They are like mini-series. Gets the crowd more hype to see who will win two out of three, you know?”

  “Yeah. I was wondering about the owners. It’s so weird to not have a team named after a city or a state.”

  “Yeah, takes some getting used to but it's no big deal. We are owned by this guy who owns a lot of mines .. isn’t that crazy? And the team we are playing is owned by some kind of oil tycoon.”

  “Really? I thought I saw him last night, thanking the crowd or something?”

  “Yeah, he donated some money to a local orphanage or something.”

  “Oh, interesting … do you know his name?”

  “Something Yeltsneft. Yeltsneft Oil, you know.”

  “Never heard of it but ok.”

  “He’s a big deal but all these old Russian guys are, you know. They are stinky fucking rich. Don’t even know what to do with all their money so they buy teams just to have something else to put their names on.”

  “How do you like playing for them?”

  “My pocket likes it very much. But it can get lonely, you know.” I sneak a peek at her. I never thought about her being lonely. Both of our characters run out of health and die. Game over. I put my controller down and stand up to stretch.

  “I should probably check on my friend. I don’t even know if my cell phone works here.”

  “Probably not. At least not in this building …” She leans into me. “I’m pretty sure this building is monitored all the time.” I stare back at her. “The government is no joke here. I think some politicians live in this building and they have it tapped. I’m not paranoid but I’m just saying … I try to be careful about my phone conversations, you know?”

  I decide to send a quick text instead ...

  *I’m hanging with my pal. Will be back in the morning.* Amy doesn’t respond but service has been spotty since we arrived so I’m not too concerned.

  Meer and I decide to watch an old Eddie Murphy comedy and laugh our asses off. I am like a thief …stealing time, stealing someone else’s life. I tell her I’m leaving in the morning. I say I have a meeting with someone from the Fulbright organization. She accepts my excuse and I have a feeling even she knows that this honeymoon is borrowed. There isn’t anything else to talk about so we put on Funkadelic, light some incense, drink cognac and have sex. Lots of it. And it is good. We make the most of it … warding off the ending even as we are in the middle of it. Every orgasm flaring up into distant galaxies then drifting back to earth with a sigh. In the morning, we manage the mundane tasks of bathing, tooth brushing and fixing our hair side by side in the bathroom mirror. She turns to me and asks if I am ok.

  “I will be. I do have some heavy stuff to take care of, but I can and I will. You know me, I can handle it.” She seems like she is considering asking more but then decides against it. She has her life, her contract and her season to think about. And I have my “stuff”.

  “If you have time, come back, ok? I put my number in your phone. I have my schedule but when I’m not playing or practicing, I’m here, ok?”

  “Ok. I’ll call you if we stay longer. I promise.”

  Sergey seems surprised to see me when we get in the car but Meer plays it cool. They drop me off at my hotel and then drive off through a light snowfall. I am stirred by a vague memory of our wedding. I think there will be snow. I shake it off and turn toward the hotel hoping to find Amy asleep in bed.

  ∆∆∆

  I am disappointed to see the room unchanged from when we left it to go to the basketball game. I inspect the bathroom, the luggage, and the refrigerator and don’t see any evidence of Amy. I check with reception to see if I have any messages. I do not. And there is nothing coming through on my phone. I sit down and try to think through the possibilities. The next day finds me in the same chair staring out the window and wondering what I should do and how long I should wait. I have the name of the oil tycoon and the village where Wasserman lives and debate going there to look for her. I send her a text every few hours in the hopes that one will reach her. Meer sends me a goodnight text, loneliness writ in every word. I ache for her, I do but I have bigger fish to fry. Where is Amy?

  Another day and no Amy. My concern is turning to panic as I scour the newspapers looking at the pictures. No calls, no texts, no emails. I look out the window onto the street below, hoping to see her pseudo-librarian guise. I’m tempted to distract myself with a visit to Meer. The last text made some intriguing promises … but I can’t stop thinking about Amy and what might have happened to her. The hotel sends a bill on the day we are supposed to check out. I extend our stay. I watch the weird state-run television stations for news of some sort. I eat a little but not enough. My stomach is permanently clenched, my heart like a drum beating out warning. What should I do if she doesn’t come back? It’s been five days since I’ve seen her. I wish Sujatha was here. I fall into an uneasy sleep.

  At first, I think I am dreaming when I hear the door latch open then close. I open my eyes but don’t move. It is dark and I can’t be sure who’s in the room. They go to the kitchenette, opening and closing the small fridge. Then I hear tiny tapping and a swoosh. Then a snap and the room lights up. I turn my head and see it is her, awash in blue. I gasp and she looks up and into the bedroom to see me jumping up and running towards her. She shuts the laptop and jumps up to hug me.

  “Amy! Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re ok. I was so worried!”

  She hugs me hard and once I calm down I pull back and ask her, “Where the hell have you been? Are you ok? What happened?” She plops down on the sofa and says, “It’s a long story, Kim. You sure you want to hear it now? It’s late and I’m tired.”

  “Oh, I want to hear it.” She sighs and takes a big gulp of water.

  “Ok. After the game, Wasserman and the bigwig he was with got in a car with the kids. I grabbed a cab and followed them. Wasserman and the kids got dropped off at the train station. So I followed them onto a train. I was lucky to be able to buy a ticket on the train. We ended up going almost to the end of the line, got off at a town called Alapayevsk. By now, it was late so I kept my distance, but they got into a car parked at the station and left. There were no cabs. So I slept at the station.”

  “What, like on a bench?” I am mortified.

  “Yup … I didn’t sleep much and it was freezing but what else could I do? It was like one in the morning, no cabs and I had no idea where I was.”

  “You should have called me.”

  “Why? I didn’t want to leave. Anyway, in the morning the workers came, the station opened and I was able to figure out my next step. I walked to the main street and found a café, then I found a library, then, after a couple of days, I found Wasserman. Turns out he’s a scientist who works for an oil company.”

  “Yeltsneft Oil?” I ask. She furrows her brows at me.

  “Yes, Yeltsneft Oil. He works at the company’s administrative offices in the town. He lives with his wife, kids and his parents in the poor section of the town. But here’s the funny thing. It took me so long to get all this information because he goes by a different name. Moshe Aleichem is his real name. Wasserman is his wife’s maiden name!”

  “That’s weird. Why would he change his name? Maybe he’s running from a crime or something?”

  “Maybe, but here in Russia, there is still a lot of anti-Semitism. I think he was running from being Jewish.”

  “That makes sense. Also, didn’t Savvy’s notes say he was from a wealthy, notable family or something like that?”

  “Yeah, that’s what his official bio said but that is not true, at least it isn’t today, you know what I mean?”

  “Can we use that as blackmail? It sounds terrible I know, but if he wants to keep his Jewish identity hidden, can we use it as blackmail?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s enough.”

  “Can we use it to get him killed?” Amy gawks at me.

  “I’m just asking Amy! Otherwise, what are we doing
here? We are trying to stop the world from being destroyed, right? If he is the key, then he is a sacrifice.”

  Amy replied, “I’m pretty sure that he is not the key.” I swallow hard.

  “So what? I am? I should be sacrificed? Is that what you are saying?” I stand up, heart racing and feeling very suspicious of her all of the sudden.

  “No, calm down, Kim, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that he is one scientist, one scientist of many working for this Yelsneft guy. I don’t think killing him will change anything. There will always be another scientist.”

  “Kill Yelsneft, then?” Amy rolls her eyes at me.

  “What is wrong with you Kim? Even if we were those kind of people … This guy is crazy rich. He has bodyguards with guns, big guns. What could you or I do about him?”

  “So what, we just give up? We just go back home?”

  “I think so. That was my best shot and I really didn’t learn anything except where Wasserman works. Yelsneft could be calling the shots, bankrolling the research from behind the scenes but I don’t see a way to stop it from here and now.”

  “Maybe we could go after a younger Yelsneft or his company?”

  “We could but what if it doesn’t matter in the long run? And if it’s not him, it’ll be some other rich guy who wants to get richer. I’m sorry but this was a complete waste of time.” Amy props her head on her hand and sighs.

  “Well,” I say grinning, “not a complete waste of time …” Her face searches mine.

  “Did you hook up with Meer?”

  “I did!” And then I tell her the whole story.

  ∆∆∆

  Though I want to see Meer again, I know it is not our time, so I don’t. I can’t lie though; we did sext the night Amy went to the airport and bought our plane tickets. We fly home on a Sunday, get there on a Tuesday and I sleep until Thursday.