I decided to be honest. In Russia, people believe it’s bad luck to talk about an undertaking before it’s complete, sort of like putting a hex on it, but something about Derek made me want to confide in him. “I hope forever.”
“Really? You’re hoping to immigrate?”
“Yes.”
“Can you? I mean, is it legal?”
“Yes and no. It’s complicated.” I finished the steak and took another drink of water. “I can stay for six months with no problem because of my visa. After that, I’ll have to figure something out.”
“You don’t sound too worried about it. Are you?”
“Not really.” I shrugged. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Might be tough.”
“It will definitely be tough. And probably risky, but I don’t mind. I like taking risks. In Russia we say ‘Kto ne riskuyet tot ne pyet shampanskoye,’ which I think roughly translates to ‘He who takes no risk doesn’t drink champagne.’”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Here we say, ‘No guts, no glory.’ Same idea, though.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Do you have a lot of family in Russia? Won’t you miss them?” He sounded genuinely curious.
I thought of my mother, newly divorced for the second time and struggling to support herself and Liliya, and felt a pang of guilt. “I will miss my family, yes. I hate feeling like I’ve abandoned my mother and sister. But my mother understood why I wanted to come here.”
“And why was that?” He reached for his wine.
“I want to be a Hollywood screenwriter.”
He laughed a little. “Then I guess you’re in the right place. Have you written any screenplays?”
“I’ve started about fifty of them, but I’ve never completed one,” I admitted. “I want to take some classes here. I’ve taken some online, but I think being in a classroom with a teacher and other students will be much better, especially for my English.”
“Your English is already pretty fucking good. What kind of work did you do in Russia?”
“Thank you. I was a technical writer for a petrochemical company. It was okay work, but never my passion. What about you? What do you do?”
He took another drink and set th
e wine glass down. “Commercial property development for my dad’s company.”
“Do you like it?”
“I guess so.”
“But it’s not your passion?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know that I have a passion, not like you do.” Then he smiled wryly, his eyebrows lifting. “You know, I’ll be honest, I was surprised when I first met you. I expected someone completely different.”
“Really? Like who?”
He cringed, but then he started laughing. “Like Boris Yeltsin. In one of those furry Russian hats.”
I laughed too. “What a disappointment I must be.”
He sat back, the smallest smile tipping his lips. “Nah.”
My heart pumped a little harder in my chest. This felt good, sitting here across the table from him, being the sole object of his attention, making him smile. I liked the grit in his voice, the easy way he leaned back in his chair, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. I liked the broadness of his chest, the fullness of his mouth, and the way he was looking at me right now, almost like we shared a secret. I wanted to write it all down in my notebook so I’d remember the details about tonight forever.