by Dana Burkey
“So you thought lying to me was the only way to make me help Olena?” I asked, annoyed with myself for not seeing through the lies myself.
“No,” he said with a frown. “I knew you would help Olena. But, I didn’t want to end what was starting between us, so I convinced her you would be more help with ‘Steven’ by your side. We fought about it all night, but in the end she agreed that it would be better for me to lie to you a little longer in case the truth made you too emotional.”
Steven paused as our waitress refilled my coffee cup. She asked me if I wanted anything else, but I told her we were okay for now. The moment to think allowed me time to go over a few of the things from months ago that bothered me the most. Finally, I had a chance to ask them.
“When I got hurt in the gas station,” I began slowly. “You and Olena were fighting in Ukrainian, weren't you?”
“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “I hoped you were too out of it to notice, but it makes sense you heard some of it. Olena was so focused on getting out of danger that she was putting you at risk. You were losing a lot of blood, but she was refusing to stop. When we were fighting then, she started to realize I had been lying to her. She could tell that I was not just pretending to care you for. I begged her not to tell you anything, knowing the more danger we were in, the more likely it would be for you to not take the news well.”
“Lying to me was more convenient for you,” I noted, my frustration growing more and more.
“Basically,” he frowned. “I hoped that if we could just get through the trip in one piece then I could find the strength to tell you the truth. I didn’t know how things were going to end up.”
I could feel my chest tightening at the memory of the last time I was with Steven. Hearing him speaking in Ukrainian with the guards at the Embassy was like a knife to my chest, even after so much time had passed. As my mind returned to our time in the hotel the night before our trip to Chernobyl, I felt tears welling up in my eyes and running down my cheeks. The wounds were as fresh as they had been in the hospital in Moscow.
“Olena was so mad at me by the time we were heading to Chernobyl, but saw that in a way having me there for you to lean on was keeping you going,” Steven continued in a quieter voice. “She made me promise to tell you as soon as I could, knowing that my feelings for you meant you would be safe no matter what we were about to face.”
Wiping my tears, I found my voice finally. “So she agreed to let you lie to me as long as it worked to get the film Uri hid?”
“No,” he corrected me. “She agreed to let me lie to you as long as I could keep you safe, so when I broke that promise she was ready to kill me. When Hodwell told her what happened to you, Olena wasn’t even allowed to come see me for a week. They were too worried she might actually try to hurt me for letting you get shot.”
“What do you mean, they wouldn’t let her see you?” I asked, not understanding. “They didn’t let you go after they knew you were telling the truth?”
Steven looked out the window and took a deep breath. When he looked back to me I could see the struggle on his face. Whatever he was about to tell me was not easy to say. I braced myself, not sure what could be so terrible for him to not want to tell me.
“Hodwell told you I was being held for questioning?” he asked. When I nodded, he continued. “That was only kind of true. They were questioning me, but I was in the hospital through it all. The man that was chasing us shot me before he finally went down.”
“No,” I said in a mix of shock and confusion. “You couldn’t have been shot. You carried me into the Embassy.”
“I knew I needed to get you to safety, so I kept going,” he explained. “I wasn’t conscious much longer after you passed out in the lobby.”
I replayed the scene in my mind. It was blurry, but I could remember the guards yelling and talking to Steven. I remembered the blinding pain in my leg and trying to talk without much success. Then I remembered the blood. It was on Steven, covering most of his shirt. I had assumed it was from my leg when he was carrying me. But there was so much of it. Could it have been from a bullet wound?
“Where were you hit?” I asked, praying it was a graze or somewhere easy to fix, like his arm.
“The bullet went through my chest. It hit my left lung on the way through,” he explained evenly. “It grazed one of my ribs, but thankfully was a few centimeters from hitting my heart.”
“Olena never told me,” I whispered, suddenly weighed down with emotions. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I asked her not to.” Steven shrugged. “I wanted to give you time. I assumed you were in the hospital or just getting home, so I asked her not to say anything to you about it. I knew when I got out of the hospital I could tell you myself, and by then you would have had a chance to process it all a little more.”
“So you waited all this time to tell me?” I found myself hurt that Steven and Olena did not tell me sooner. I was suddenly worried, thinking of Steven sitting in a hospital alone, with no parents or family members to comfort him.
“I came as soon as I could, honestly.” Steven glanced at the table, suddenly refusing to make eye contact with me. After all we had been through I knew he was hiding something.
“What do you mean?” When he refused to look at me I reached out and took his hand. “Steven, please.”
“Gevorg,” he said, finally looking at me.
“What?” I asked, not sure I had heard him.
“I’m not Steven,” he said with a sigh. “Steven was who I had to be after the men chasing us thought I died. Steven had to lie to you even when he didn’t want to. But I’m not him anymore. I’m Gevorg, or Gev. Anything but Steven.”
“Okay,” I tried again. “What do you mean you came as soon as you could, Gev?”
It felt weird to say his real name, but I watched a smile play on his lips. He clearly had been waiting for this moment for a while. With a deep breath, he reluctantly answered me.
“I was in the hospital in Kiev for almost a month after I was shot,” he said finally. “My lung had collapsed, and the doctors were having a hard time stabilizing it. They wanted to send me to Moscow for better care, but also needed to keep me in Kiev until Olena was found. By the time they found her and moved me, the damage was pretty severe. My lung had developed an infection, so I was back in danger for almost a month before I was back on the road to recovery. Even once I left the hospital my doctors wouldn’t let me fly. They said the change in cabin pressure would cause my lung to collapse again if I tried to come see you too soon. I was only cleared three weeks ago.”
My grip on his hand became tighter and tighter with each sentence he spoke. I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks again, but did not bother to wipe them away. For so long I was mad at him, angry that he would lie to me and that he didn’t even care to talk to me. I had asked Olena about him once, but she only told me that he was living in Moscow. I assumed he was moving on with his life, and that hurt more than I wanted it to. Now I knew the truth. He had almost died while making sure I got to safety.
“But you talked to the agents,” I said, trying to make sense of it all. “They said you told them everything.”
“I had to write it all down,” he explained. “I sat and wrote every second I could, only taking a break when the pain was too much and I had to be drugged again. I was so scared if I didn’t tell them everything it would mean you would be in more trouble, and everything would be for nothing.”
As Kathy returned to check my coffee cup, and likely make sure I was doing okay, I released my grip on Gev’s hand. My emotions were all over the board, and I was not sure how to recover from it all. On one hand, I wanted to go back to having someone I could talk to and truly understood all I had been through since my first reunion with Olena. On the other hand, there were a mountain of lies that our “relationship” had been built on.
“So what, I just forgive you now?” I asked once Kathy had walked away from our table.
“I wish,” Gev said with a little laugh. “I feel like nothing about us is that simple.”
“Well, what were you hoping for when you came here?” I held my hands firmly in my lap to prevent from taking hold of his once again.
“I want to start over,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I can’t ask you to forgive me for what happened. I just hope that if I can let you get to know the real me, over time you will be able to understand why I did what I did.”
“Start over?” I repeated, unsure it was that simple.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I didn’t buy a ticket back to Moscow yet, so it’s up to you how long I stay. I can drive right back to the airport now if you want. But, if you will let me, I want to show you the real me. And show you that when I kissed you or held you or told you I cared about you, it was always true. I never lied about how I felt about you, including what I said in the lobby at the embassy.”
The confusion clearly showed on my face. I once again tried to remember everything about the moments before I lost consciousness. Straining, the only phrase I could remember him telling me was that he was sorry. Reading my expression, Gev leaned in closer to me, his voice just above a whisper.
“I love you, Claire,” he said in a serious tone. “I should have said it to you sooner, and should never have lied to you for so long. But even now, after all we have been through it’s still true. I love you.”
Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together. A few months ago I had said those same words to Gev. No, not to Gev, to Steven. But so much had happened since then. I would have loved to hear him say those words back on that day in Chernobyl. It would have been, in a way, less complicated then. Now, however, it was harder to respond one way or the other.
“Okay,” I finally managed, opening my eyes to look at Gev. “Let’s start over.”
“Is it really you?” I asked into the receiver as I lowered myself onto the couch to get comfortable.
“Very funny,” came the serious reply. I knew an eye roll likely accompanied it. “Are you watching?”
“Planning to,” I assured her, before covering the phone and calling out into the house. “Olena’s on the phone!”
“Oh yes, you have a few minutes,” Olena seemed to realize. “And you are recording it as well?”
“We have it set to record on the TV, and even have a VHS set up to go just in case.” This was the fifth time Olena has asked me this same question, the last requests in her e-mails.
“Good, that is good,” she said, sounding more nervous than I had ever heard her.
Before I could assure her it was going to be okay and that there was nothing to worry about, the phone was taken out of my hand.
“Hey!” I frowned, turning to give a dirty look.
“Pryvit miy dvoyuridnyy brat,” Gev said into the phone, greeting Olena how he always did. He blew me a quick kiss in apology before turning and heading for the kitchen. With a shake of my head I turned back to face the TV and made sure it was on the right channel.
After that first meeting with Gev in Perkins, my life changed instantly. After “visiting” me for a few months, Gev made his stay in Ohio permanent. He attended school locally, graduating with a history degree before getting a job at a private school. Teaching European history was a perfect fit for him, despite the fact he never really planned it. I, on the other hand, abandoned my dream of traditional college and instead obtained a cosmetology license. It allowed me to move on with my life without years of school, while still giving me something to take my mind off of everything that Olena was facing.
Once the news got out about the photos, things in Ukraine seemed to erupt overnight. The photos we uncovered showed men moving and storing weapons in reactor five. Once identified, three of the men were arrested for questioning. The other two had died in and after the accident. These first arrests and trials lead to the uncovering of hidden bank accounts, filled with money paid in secret. It led to tapes of conversations between leaders people had trusted and followed after the events in Chernobyl. Then, it finally led to the uncovering of the nuclear weapons that were in the photos. It was the biggest news story in all of Europe, and Olena was in the front row for it all.
Wanting to make a real difference, Olena chose to stay in Kiev, working with Hodwell and the other agents assigned to the case. She gave insight and information that proved to be invaluable, as well as putting a face to the story for so many working to find the truth. Olena e-mailed often, called when she could, and even visited a few times, but it was never the same as I thought it would be. I imagined her and I living together, or having dinner parties and going on vacation together. It was not easy at first, but with Gev’s help I made new plans. I began to accept that Olena needed to be in the Ukraine to finish all Uri had started when he took those photos so long ago.
Now, the documentary that shook the Cannes Film Festival was about to shake the world. Gev and I did not take part in the actual film, our names little more than a footnote in history. The movie about to play on national television was not about us though. It was about Olena and the people of Chernobyl getting the answers that were hidden for so long.
“YA podzvonyu tobi, koly tse na,” Gev assured Olena as he sat down on the couch next to me. Apparently promising her we would call when the movie was over appeased her for now.
“Do skoroho,” I added, leaning in so I could be heard as well.
“Do skoroho,” Olena replied before finally hanging up.
“She is really nervous,” Gev sighed, setting the phone down and wrapping one arm around me. “Hodwell had to work so she doesn't have anyone to calm her down right now.”
“Between this and her wedding she is going to need sedatives or something,” I laughed, glad for once Olena was the one under more stress than I was.
“I forgot the food,” Gev said suddenly, jumping up from the couch and running to the kitchen. According to the clock on the wall we had only two minutes until the movie began. When he raced back seconds later I was happy to see a whole spread of snacks. He also placed a beer and glass of water on the table as well.
“No fair,” I frowned, knowing it would be months until I got to enjoy a beer again.
With a laugh, Gev wrapped his arms around me, resting one hand on my newly pregnant belly. Placing my hand on top of his I gave him a quick kiss before focusing my attention on the TV. Images of Chernobyl and Kiev were filling the screen, bringing back so many mixed emotions. So many important things in my life had happened there since my first visit. Eight years ago I was running for my life. Two years later I was finally reunited with Olena. And best of all, just two years after that Gev asked me to marry him. If my parents didn’t object so strongly, my wedding might have been in Ukraine as well. Instead, in just over a month, I would watch as Olena walked down the aisle and began the rest of her life with Hodwell. He insisted I call him Scott, but after all we had been through he would always just be Hodwell to me.
Leaning my head on Gev’s shoulder as I watched the TV, I could not help but smile. When I was first reunited with Olena in Perkins almost nine years ago I would not have guessed or wished for the life I was living. But now, I know I would never change a thing about it. There was sure to be backlash from the film, stresses once our baby was born, and a future that was never set in stone. But it was as close to perfect as I could get, or even wanted. Closing my eyes in hopes of keeping my tears at bay, I listened as Olena began telling the story of Uri and the photos he took that fateful day.
FROM THE AUTHOR:
I wanted to thank you all so much taking the time to read this story. Since a young age I have been fascinated with the mystery and history behind Chernobyl. The idea of families having to leave their homes for good, with plans of coming home, was somehow intriguing to me even at a young age. Seeing commercials and hearing about the Children of Chernobyl, I was both scared and interested. As I got older I read books and watched documentaries to learn more. Now, as an ad
ult, I took the time to imagine what it could be like if the information I heard was all a cover up. This fictional version of the events that occurred in Chernobyl are in no way my attempt at unveiling truth or stir up controversy. Instead I hope that by reading this people will have the desire I did. The desire to look into more about what Chernobyl did to the thousands of displaces people. The desire understand what the world can learn about safety in relation to nuclear energy. And also the desire to see the beauty is something so tragic. For years I have stared at the iconic photos of Pripyat and Chernobyl. They are as haunting as they are beautiful. One day I will visit and experience all Chernobyl has to offer. But, in the meantime, I hope you have enjoyed my imagined version of a story that I have been working on for so very long. Thank you again for reading.
-Dana Burkey
About the Author:
Dana Burkey graduated college in 2009 with a degree in theater and a minor in creative writing from Youngstown State University in Ohio. She is currently living in Washington State in a little cabin in the woods with her cat Cato. She works full time at a kids camp, and spends her free time doing community theater and adventuring in nature! She is the author of the YA contemporary romance series Hearts to Follow.
I would like to say a BIG thank you to Chernobylwel.com for allowing me to use their photos of Pripyat and Chernobyl as both inspiration and also for the back cover of this book. If you are considering taking a tour of Chernobyl, you can find out more information on their website at:
http://www.chernobylwel.com/
Do you want to own your very own locked like the one described in the book, and seen on the cover? Head over to AimeezArts on Etsy to order your copy now!