Can't Let Her Go

I could never take Katya back to Detroit. Never. I’d die first.

“Maybe if I had met you in Moscow, American hunter, things could have been different between us,” she whispers.

“There could never be anything between us.” My voice cracks like a whip in the silence.

Her eyes widen with shock and a veil comes over her eyes.

I have wounded her. It was never my intention. I am such a fool. My thoughts were ugly with the past and I lashed out without thinking. I reach out a hand to grab her leg, but like a silk scarf she slips out of my grasp and runs to the door. I sit up in bed and I listen to her footsteps running down the corridor. My hands are clenched hard. It is better this way.

It is better this way.

When I hear no more sounds, I go to the window to wait for her. My heart feels as if there is a cold claw squeezing it. She appears underneath the window. I watch her run through the snow. She looks so small and vulnerable. A stranger. I can hardly believe she was the warm, red hot lover in my bed only a few minutes ago.

I want to call out to her, at least to say goodbye, but my throat is locked. God, I want her so bad my chest hurts. Unable to bear even the glass pane to be between me and my last image of her, I open the window. Freezing cold air hits my body. She must have heard the sound because she turns and looks up.

She doesn’t wave or smile.

For a while, how long I don’t know, we stare at each other. Then she turns away and resumes running towards her ride. I watch till she disappears. I tell myself I won’t miss her. I tell myself it’s for the best. I could never have given her anything, anyway.

Before I sleep, I picture Katya on the bed, under me, urging me to finish, desperate for me to take away the last bit of girlhood she still had. If this were some movie, I’d leave and come back in a year, and she’d be working in the bar, and I’d stop. She would give me a drink, and we would chat, and then I would leave. In the middle of the night, she would come to my room, and we would make love again. If it were a romantic movie, I would whisk her away from Russia, take her back to America, and make her my bride. If it were a drama, she’d leave after sex, and when I looked for her the next day, she’d be gone. If this were a movie.

But it’s not a movie.

Katya

I know I had to go, but the American could have asked me to stay. Would it have been so bad not to let me feel like a piece of dirt under his shoe? I’m such a fool. Of course, he would want nothing to do with me. I gave away my virginity for nothing. I behaved like a tramp and yet, I cannot feel sorry for it. I will never see him again, but I will never forget tonight.

Never. Not in a million years.

I rush through the snow, meeting no one but a man so drunk he could hardly walk straight. There’s a stitch in my side, my breath comes out in great puffs of vapor, and I can feel my heart racing inside my chest. As I round the corner, I see Yuri’s truck and the relief that floods through my body is incredible. As it turns out I make it just in time. As I wrap the bear rug around my body and lie low, I hear Yuri come back. He is whistling out of tune and has obviously drunk too much. The ride back is less comfortable than the ride out. For one thing, the hot water bottle is already cold, Yuri’s driving is erratic to say the least, but more importantly is the sensation that I am caught in a strange and unreal drama.

I am no longer a virgin.

Tomorrow I will announce the fact to the men who will come to pick me up and they will leave empty-handed. The whole village will be in a state of shock and I know I will probably get hammered by my father. He may even kick me out of the house, but I’m ready for it. I have enough money saved for a bus trip to Moscow. Once I’m there, I will find cheap lodgings and a job. I will be fine. Once the money starts coming into the house, my father and mother will eventually forgive me.

The truck comes to a stop. The engine is cut, then Yuri jumps out and goes into the house, his footsteps quiet in the snow. I dig my way out of the bear skin and as silent as a shadow, I run around to Irina’s window. She opens it as soon as I knock on it. I climb into her room and collapse on the floor.

She stands over me, frowning. “Did you do it?”

I nod.

“Why are you so pale? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I will cut out his tongue and feed it to the crows.”

“You will do nothing of the sort. You don’t even know who he is. Anyway, he did not hurt me. I’m pale because it is freezing and your brother drives like a maniac.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Take your shoes and coat off and get into bed.” I obey quickly while she goes to her night table and picks up a blue and green thermos flask. “I made you some hot chocolate,” she says, pouring it out into two mugs. Then she joins me on the bed.

I take the steaming drink from her, curling my hands around the warmth. My fingers are like ice cubes.

“Well, how was it then?” she asks, snuggling in beside me. Irina is also a virgin and she has to rely on second hand information.

I bite my lip. “It was amazing.”

She nearly sprays me with hot chocolate. “Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Wait a minute? You had sex with some smelly truck driver and it was … amazing?” she asks incredulously.

“It was not a truck driver. It was a foreigner. An American.”

She stares at me in astonishment. “What is an American doing around these parts?”

“No idea,” I confess. I had been so caught up with everything I hadn’t even thought about what he was doing there. He had suddenly appeared, like a character from a Hollywood movie, full of confidence, of his right to be there.

“Come on then. Tell me everything.”

So I did. We sat up all night talking. I think

we both knew that we would never again, be sharing a bed. No matter what happens in the morning my life is going to change for ever.

When dawn breaks over the horizon, Irina hugs me. “I didn’t tell you before but my parents put my name down for the program too, but I wasn’t chosen. For a while, I was jealous of you then I forgot about it. I’m sorry I thought those things about you. You’re brave and strong and I am not. I would never have done what you did. I would have meekly gone even knowing that something bad might happen to me. I’m proud of you, Katya. Really proud of you and no matter what happens, always remember I’m here for you. You can always come here and stay with me.”

“Oh, Irina. Thank God, they did not choose you. I couldn’t bear it if I thought you were going off never to be seen again. I love you and no matter what happens, you will always be in my heart.”

We held each other and cried then.

I left before her parents woke up. I walked in the frosty morning and felt strange as if I wasn’t myself. I was walking in someone else’s shoes. A girl who had become a woman last night and who was about to walk into the lion’s den.

My mother is already up and waiting for me when I walk in through the kitchen door. She looks at me earnestly. In spite of her protestations that I will be completely safe I can tell that she is anxious. Today, I will leave my home and make the trek to a place from which no one has ever returned. It’s scary, scarier than she is willing to admit. I can see fear in her face.

“Good. You are back. How are Irina’s parents?”

“Fine,” I answer.

“Today is your birthday,” my mother says, clasping her hands. “They will be coming for you.”

“Who will be coming for me?”

My mother frowns then stares at me. “You are still pure, aren’t you?”

“And if I’m not? What then, Mama, what then?”

She pales, literally pales. A kind fear I have never before seen fills her eyes. That I might not be pure is beyond her imagination. If she knew what I had done with the American. It was her job to keep me pure and she would have failed.