Crossroads

by Blake Haugen

  “Hold that door!”

  Vanya jutted his hand between the closing doors after hearing the request. He held the doors open as he waited for the person he heard puffing toward the elevator. To his surprise and slight dismay, the taller of the elderly women engulfed in fur shuffled inside.

  “Oh, thank you,” she puffed, “thank – you! You!”

  “Yes, me,” Vanya replied dryly, “I’m sorry about before. I was scared.” With that, he turned abruptly and faced forward. He could feel the woman’s scowl on his cheek.

  She looked up and arched one skeptical, tattooed eyebrow in question. Though she was thin and frail, her height caused him a great deal of discomfort. Few women shared space in his stratosphere. Her skin was orange and leathery from tanning and her voice was raspy from what were surely years of smoking. He was afraid she’d try to swat him with her huge designer handbag. Fortunately, she just rolled her eyes as if giving up on him and faced forward as well.

  “Number fifteen, please,” she said, raising her nose in a hoity-toity fashion. The action was so rehearsed and habitual; Vanya fought an urge to laugh. If he didn’t think her big bag was still a threat to his forearm or crotch, he would have been in pieces.

  The elevator was slow and soon filled with awkwardness. Vanya had no idea this lady lived in his building. Why was he just now noticing her?

  “Well, young man, did you find her, at least?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “Hmm?”

  “Your wife, of course!” she supplied, looking at him as if he was the dumbest man in the world.

  “Uh, yeah. I found her.”

  “Was she alright? Where was she?

  “She’s fine. She’s at her friend’s house.”

  “Ooh,” the woman trailed off. She nodded her head knowingly.

  What the fuck? This woman thought she knew what was going on. He was filled with a need to set her straight.

  “It’s fine. She’ll be back this evening.”

  “Oh, yes, we’ll see.”

  At that, Vanya looked at the lady sideways. What was she getting at? He supposed this is what old ladies did; stuck their noses in places they didn’t belong.

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” she said, catching his look. She put her hands up defensively. “I just know what young married life is like, that’s all.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why, yes, of course. My marriage just ended. Fifty-two years with my husband. He just died a few months back. That’s why I moved to this place all the way from Florida; too many memories in that house.”

  Vanya immediately felt guilty. He remembered the way his father had acted when his mother died. Kirill had literally known Mariya his entire life. Their mothers were life long friends and they were born just months apart. They married shortly after turning nineteen. When Mariya passed, Kirill walked around like a zombie for weeks on end before he finally developed a routine that didn’t involve his wife. His withdrawal had allowed Lina the freedom she needed to go buck wild. The lady standing beside Vanya seemed to be coping with her loss much better than his father.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Ah, yeah, well, I’ve just got to stay busy I suppose. That’s why I’m in your business.”

  Vanya let out a hearty laugh. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, you need to let your wife know how upset you were and bring her home. It will save you a hell of a lot of time. Just tell each other everything and don’t let your friends and your in-laws get too mixed up in your business. That is my advise to you.”

  “Well, thank you. This is my floor, Ms.?”

  “Mrs. Ivy Koppel.”

  “I’m Ivan Pravdin,” he replied, taking her extended hand. “Welcome to the building and have a good afternoon.”

  ☐

  Ivy Koppel was right. Persephone didn’t come home that evening and opted to sleep at her place. Rather than explaining his previous anger and retrieving her, Vanya had demanded that she come over. It went terribly. She asked if he’d lost his mind and proclaimed that he was going to have to “go a night without some tail.” He’d then rephrased and asked her to spend the next evening with him. She’d begrudgingly agreed and hung up after saying “bye.” However, she eluded him the next day and now it was Saturday. He was in the city – without Persephone.

  Vanya was hanging out in the jewelry store with Yulian, Max, and Sophie. An urgent matter had brought him back to the city on Friday afternoon and now he was just checking in on things he had neglected during Winter Break. They congregated in the back room with the finest jewelry and the least amount of customer traffic. The back room was an exclusive place for only the most affluent and selective customers. Though Saturday morning was one of the busiest times in the shop, few customers made their way to the back room. As always, the group spoke in Russian for Max’s benefit.

  Vanya wished he had heeded Mrs. Koppel’s advice. He was now suffering from a case of heartache and blue balls. Family business had gotten in the way and it had been two days since he had seen Persephone. This was quite irregular, given that they had spent every night together since the beginning of December. His goofy cousin noticed his sour disposition.

  “Dude, Vanya, you are like, really into the merchandise today,” Yulian said, clasping Vanya’s shoulder. “The rings aren’t going anywhere, man. I have this shit on lockdown.”

  Vanya did his best to ignore his Yulian. He was certain his demeanor said stay away, but Yulian would not be discouraged. If Vanya didn’t known Yulian had graduated magna cum laude with a degree in mathematics, he would have thought the man a complete imbecile. Yulian shared his good looks with Mikhail, but that was about it; there wasn’t a serious bone in his body.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Vanya grumbled. “I’m just checking it out.”

  “Alright, bro. No need to get snappy. I’m backin’ off.”

  “Oh, leave him alone. Can’t you see he’s heartsick?” Sophie chimed in.

  “What? Heartsick? What am I missing here?” Yulian asked turning to her.

  “I’m not heartsick!” Vanya proclaimed, rising from the counter. “I haven’t bought Lina a bridal shower present and it’s a in a few weeks.”

  “Well, you’ve got time,” Yulian replied and then scratched his head. “Wait, are you even invited to the bridal shower? I thought that was just for girls.”

  “That’s correct. Besides, Vanya is looking at the engagement rings and Lina already has that part covered. If that’s not heartsick, I don’t know what is. Denial maybe?” Sophie answered, smiling smugly.

  The petite brunette looked like a doll, but was as straight-edged and as calculating as a business magnate. Vanya generally appreciated her competence and shrewd assessments of a situation. Currently however, that shrewdness was a pain in the ass; she definitely knew about Persephone and was throwing it in Vanya’s face. Growing up, Sophie and her sister Eva had always chided him and the twins for being total dogs when it came to the opposite sex. They probably attributed his current relationship predicament to karma. There was no doubt they’d had a laugh about it. Sophie’s smirk revealed as much. Apparently, the news of Vanya’s ladylove had spread like wildfire.

  “So, all of you are gossiping about my love life?” Vanya replied sourly. “It’s just like when we were kids. The only thing missing is Mikhail putting something in your hair or popping your bra.”

  As if on cue, Yulian used his thumb and index finger to pull on the back band of Sophie’s bra. He let it go abruptly and they all heard a resounding snap against Sophie’s back. She yelped immediately and turned to swat Yulian on his head, laying curses there as well. Danilovich, her drippy father, entered the room, went over to Yulian, and smacked his arm with a newspaper.

  “What’s the meaning of this? Stop leaning on the counters. You’re not paid to laze around all day.”

  “What? Vanya was just leaning on them!”

  “That’s different. When he comes in here he works.”

&n
bsp; “You’re right, Vanya; nothing has changed!” Yulian exclaimed, rubbing his head where Sophie had hit him. “I’m still getting busted, Sophie is still being a goody two-shoes know-it-all, Max is… well, Max, and Eva is still a –”

  “Ahem!” Max coughed loudly. He rose to his full height from his stool in the corner. The large man’s cold glare was trained on Yulian, daring him to complete his description of Danilovich’s eldest daughter. The bodyguard had a “thing” about protecting and honoring women in a gentlemanly fashion. Vanya thought it was admirable.

  Yulian mumbled something about “not being able to hit it and quit it” in English so that Max and Danilovich wouldn’t catch the comment. That comment earned him another pop upside the head from Sophie. He ducked away from her and moved toward Vanya at an adjacent counter.

  “And you, Vanya, you’re still the stoic leader, above it all with your secret woman and stuff,” Yulian said, switching back to Russian.

  “Yeah,” Vanya sighed, “I guess if you think I’m calm and ‘above it all,’ then that stoic look is working.”

  “‘Don’t be gazed upon when sweating.’ That’s the way to say it in English, right?” Max tried his hand at the American colloquialism.

  “‘Don’t let them see you sweat’ is more like it,” Yulian corrected. “When are we going to start your lessons up again, Max? You’ll get rustier if you don’t practice. We need to take you out or something. Come out with us tonight.”

  “He needs to practice at a normal social function, not one where every woman within a hundred foot radius is trying to jump one of you guys,” Sophie interrupted, answering for Max. “You should be my date to Lina’s wedding, Max.”

  “What?!” Yulian exclaimed.

  “Sophie, that sounds great, but I’ll probably be working… ” Max began and then trailed off slightly. He gave Vanya a subtle glance, waiting for his friend’s permission.

  “Eh, what the hell, you should take Sophie, Max. Somebody’s got to do it and we can get someone else to drive for a change. There are plenty of guys.”

  “Then it’s a date,” Max smiled in Sophie’s direction. He sat back down on his perch a few feet away from the others and ignored the look of confusion on Yulian’s face.

  “Vanya, are you taking your mystery woman to the wedding?” Sophie asked. She effectively changed the subject and paid Vanya back for his little dig. Before Vanya could reply, Yulian gave out a hearty laugh.

  “Yeah, just think of it now. Uncle sees a black chick on the arm of his only son at his only daughter’s wedding to a WASPy rich boy. A shitshow is the only word that could describe that situation. A total shitshow.”

  “What’s a WASP?” Max questioned, apparently needing no Russian translation for ‘shitshow.’

  “White Anglo-Saxon Protestant,” Sophie supplied quickly. She wouldn’t be dissuaded from her inquisition. Staring up at Vanya with big determined blue eyes she pressed on. “So, are you bringing her? You’re bringing her to the reception at least, yeah?”

  Again, Vanya was interrupted before he could answer for himself, this time by Danilovich. The older man chuckled as he flipped through a stock list. “Ivan Kirillovich wouldn’t consider such a thing. He’ll have his fill of her and then be done with her.”

  The comment was enough to turn Vanya’s annoyance with the questions into anger. He slowly advanced on Danilovich. The sniveling, balding man probably thought he was doing a good job of sucking up, but nothing could be further from the truth. He didn’t even notice Vanya coming up on him; he was too busy pushing his spectacles up his bulbous nose.

  Vanya briefly wondered how Danilovich could spawn Eva and Sophie, who were the epitome of beauty and brains, respectively. It must have come from their mother. Vanya had observed Danilovich cater to Kirill’s every command for years; the man was only loyal to power and Vanya had never respected him. The thought brought forth feelings of self-loathing within Vanya and he lashed out. His voice was quiet and stern.

  “Never speak of her in my presence again. Save your empty words and hold your tongue around me. If you cross the line again, I just might have it cut out of your mouth on your way out the door.”

  The atmosphere in the room was chilly and Yulian, who couldn’t stand any bout of silence, finally commented. “Damn, Vanya, you’re serious about this chick. Like, sprung man.”

  Vanya gave him a withering look and made his way to the upstairs office. Max shook his head and buried it in his hands while Sophie and Danilovich gave Yulian cross glares that looked oddly similar. Giving up, Yulian threw his hands in the air and went to work in the front showroom.

  Vanya stayed in the office all evening poring over paperwork that Yulian had prepared. Although everything was neatly arranged and organized, the sheer volume of documents kept him busy for the duration of the afternoon. He finished shortly before sundown and retired to the parlor to sip a beer. He sat pensively on one of the antique sofas until Mikhail and Yulian arrived.

  “Hey!” Yulian said loudly as he burst through the door, “Let’s pregame! And none of that weak shit you’ve got there, Vanya. I brought some good stuff!” He held up a large bottle of top shelf vodka.

  “That’s fucking stereotypical, Yuli,” Vanya groaned and laid his head on the back of the sofa.

  “Whatever,” Mikhail replied, snatching the bottle from his brother. “This shit is smooth.” He plopped down beside Vanya and pulled three crystal tumblers from the silver tray on the coffee table. Once he had poured for his companions and himself, all three raised their glasses to one another and stated ‘Поехали!’ before tossing their drinks back.

  When they felt sufficiently buzzed they had Max take them to one of the clubs. Max eschewed most vices – drugs and alcohol vehemently – and was always happy to cart the trio around for a night of debauchery. The first club was packed. Yulian jumped in immediately and danced with any woman that would have him. The scene was much too rowdy for Mikhail and they ended up driving to Copper, the more chic, low-key bar and jazz club Dunya ran for Kirill. Vanya and Mikhail sat in the back seat looking out of their respective windows while Max drove and Yulian played with the stereo balance in the passenger’s seat.

  “Man, you guys sure are quiet back there,” Yulian slurred a little as he flipped through myriad stations on the satellite radio.

  “We can’t hear over that fucking techno crap you’re playing up there,” Mikhail replied dryly.

  “Hey, I take issue with that! This is some of the most innovative pop we’ve seen in the last ten years. It’s not techno.”

  “All sounds the same to me.”

  “Well, we can’t all be sophisticated blues men like Mishka,” Yulian bit back, waving his hands in the air. He then floated his right hand over his left and twittered his fingers, mocking Mikhail’s exceptional bass playing. His twin quickly jabbed him through the space between the seat and the headrest.

  “Jazz. Get it right, fucker.”

  “Ah!” Yulian yelped and tried to swat Mikhail’s hand away. “No, I’m saying you two are usually all buddy-buddy and laughing it up and now you’re all silent and looking in opposite windows and shit. You’ve barely talked all night.”

  “Just keep playing with the radio, Yuli,” Vanya chimed in. “You talk enough for everybody.”

  “Alright, keep your little secrets. Even when you guys are mad at each other you still act like you’re married.”

  Vanya caught the twinge of bitterness in Yulian’s voice. Since the twins’ mother had died when they were children, Yulian had always been jealous of Vanya and Mikhail’s close friendship. Vanya and Mikhail were more ‘rough and tumble’ boys. Yulian, however, was more interested in math and science than playing outside. His mother supported his scientific aspirations and carted her favorite son off to engineering camps and math clubs. Although he was still ‘one of the boys’ when his mother died, Yulian found himself somewhat alienated from his twin and his cousin.

  The twins’ father, Vanya�
�s uncle Nicolai and the younger brother of Kirill, had clung to his favorite twin Mikhail after his wife’s death. A hard man, he related easier to Mikhail’s love of sports, guns, and wrestling. Nicolai was uninterested in algebra competitions and robotics contests.

  It was basketball that had brought Yulian back into the fold. He joined the sport with Mikhail and Vanya in middle school and used the activity to reconnect with the family. He’d worked diligently to be the best player possible, coming out on top against Mikhail but falling short of Vanya’s skill. Due to Kirill’s interest in the sport, Nicolai was impressed with Yulian’s performance. That, coupled with the boy’s rabid interest in girls, prompted Nicolai to give Yulian the attention he so desperately craved.

  Like so many times before, Yulian now sat on the outside of things. This time he was drunkenly stewing in the front seat. Several seconds of silence passed before Max took pity on him and answered his question.

  “It’s the woman,” Max said matter-of-factly. He kept his eyes on the road, not checking Vanya and Mikhail’s reaction.

  “Ohhh,” Yulian droned loudly, “I get it. You’re jealous because she took your place, Mishka! Whose main bitch will you be now, eh?”

  Vanya grunted a short laugh and Max tried to curb his smile as Mikhail punched the back of his brother’s seat yet again. “It’s not that, you dumbass. She’s a risk. I don’t like risks.”

  “Whatever, man, what are we supposed to do? Just marry women we’ve known forever? Or nice girls from the Old Country? Fuck that shit! Imagine marrying Eva! Blech!” Yulian shivered in an exaggerated manner. He was too drunk to notice the reproachful glare Max threw his way.

  “You don’t even want to get married, so why should it even matter?” Mikhail rejoined.

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I want to have kids eventually, and I guess I should get married for that, right? I don’t know. That’s hard enough; how do you have sex with only one chick forever?”

  “You don’t! Everyone cheats eventually,” Mikhail answered sourly.