Aurora
The car came to a stop outside a very nice-looking restaurant. I didn’t recognize the name. Slavik opened the door, giving Sergei instructions.
I followed my husband out, taking the hand that was offered, but he let me go, wrapping an arm around my waist. I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted him to hold me like this. Like the good woman I’d been trained to be, I didn’t pull away, even though I was tempted with every fiber of my being.
We entered the restaurant and after one look at my husband, the maitre d’ escorted us to our table.
Slavik held out my chair and I sat down.
A quick glance around the room and I saw people were looking our way. Slavik had a way about him that commanded attention the instant he entered a room.
With my hands in my lap, tightly clenched together, I waited for him to order the wine, and he did. Then he asked for the menus to be brought to us at once.
All this time, I didn’t say a word. These dates, if they could even be called that, were always trying. The truth was I had no idea what to say to him.
We were so different. In age. In our likes. He was a stone-cold killer and I had no place.
Silence fell between us.
Slavik like always, held his cell phone, typing away.
Other couples were looking at each other, swooning. Or at the very least with lust. What did I get? Sat at a table, pretty much ignored. Slavik refused to give me the time for strained conversation.
Time ticked by, and along with it, my patience.
All my life, I’d been told to be quiet, to not make waves. I was nearly killed a week ago, and I’d followed all the rules. Not once had it helped me.
Sitting up, I put my arms on the table and looked at my husband. “Did you talk to my father?” I asked.
I must have taken Slavik by surprise because he finally looked up.
Silence.
I would not look away. This time, in a restaurant, we would at the very least pretend to want to be around each other.
Not that I should care. I was already a mockery wherever I went. For some reason, I felt rebellious tonight. Like I wanted him to notice me. Sergei had terrified me, to be frank. The only person offering to be my friend was the one person who could get killed for being so.
“I don’t talk business,” he said.
“Then what would you like to talk about?” I asked.
“What is this?”
“You drag me out of your home. Dress me up. Sit me here, for appearances’ sake. Am I right?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Then we sit here and you make me a complete laughing stock because you cannot even give your wife the time of day. You’re always attached to your phone. Are you, like, addicted to social media? You do the endless scrolling?” I needed to shut up. Clearly when I was attacked, something went wrong inside my brain because my lips kept on working when they should stay shut.
“Are you on social media?”
“No,” I said. I wasn’t allowed an account. My sister had been until she did the stupid thing of taking a selfie at a private party. Guess who got the punishment for that, little old me. Daddy didn’t like to punish his sweet girl. “Just because I don’t have an account doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. I don’t know you or what you do, but I can guess. If you don’t want to talk shop, fine. Just don’t ignore me. I’d rather eat at home if that’s what you want. I’m sure you have a lot more to do other than this.”
“Women like being taken out to dinner.”
“This woman likes to be acknowledged as actually existing. You’ve ignored me all week.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With work you won’t talk about.” I shrugged. “We’re running around in circles right now.”
The waiter came, and I stopped, taking a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Excuse me.”
I got to my feet, ignoring my husband, and walked to the ladies’ room. Entering, I saw there was no one there. I had no need for the toilet, so I went straight to the sink.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I kept my head down. The last thing I wanted to do was look in a mirror. What I’d see looking back at me scared me.
I was going to get myself killed if I kept this up.
My face felt incredibly hot, but with the small amount of makeup I’d put on, there was no way I could splash my face.
After running my wrists beneath the cold tap, I reached out for a towel when my arm was grabbed and I spun around. Slavik was in the ladies’ room. He pressed me up against the bathroom counter.
I nibbled on my lip and tried to get as far as I could with the counter stopping me. There was nowhere for me to go.
“What is your problem?” he asked.
“I don’t have one. I don’t see a point in being here wasting our time if we’re not even going to have a civil conversation.” Why would I even want to have Slavik talking to me? The man was scary.
He made grown men afraid.
Here I was offering up a conversation with a man whose expertise was death.
“You’ve never seemed to mind before.”
“I always minded. Once or twice was fine, but we’ve been doing this same dance for far too long and I’m bored of it.”
In the back of my mind, I literally screamed for myself to shut the fuck up. Whatever I was doing, or thought I was doing, was going to get me killed.
“You’re bored.”
“You can’t tell me you’re excited about eating dinner with me when you’re checking your cell phone every two minutes.”
He didn’t say anything.
His body pressed against mine, and not for the first time, I became very aware of him as a man.