Undercover (9 page)

They had a long overlay in Moscow, waiting for a plane to take them to Archangelsk. From there, a taxi would drive them to Severodvinsk. She had a mental image of enormous onion-shaped domes, but the Cyrillic letters confused her. She tried to sound it out, “Mockba?” and Alex laughed so hard she crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

All the other names were even stranger. Was she really this ignorant? Alex explained that Severodvinsk was a city close to an army base with the same name, and he rented an apartment there. The only thing she got out of the explanation was him not calling it home.

Along the way, the planes became smaller and smaller, and the last leg of the journey was in an old propeller thing much too loud and much too cold for Jenny’s taste. Did flying in Russia mean the pilots were drunk? She was probably prejudiced. American pilots were probably drunk too. She leaned a little closer to Alex, just to feel he was there.

He sat staring straight ahead in the plane, not even pretending that everything was okay anymore, and she wanted to hit him. She didn’t come all this way to talk to a wall. It took an effort to shake the thought off, but whatever was coming was something he evidently didn’t want to do, and her job should be supporting him, not complaining. She was tired, bored, and nervous, but none of these things were his fault, and she shouldn’t take it out on him, especially not now when he needed her.

She reached out to take his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Are you alright?”

He nodded without looking at her. “Yes. But I do not look forward to this.”

Lifting her hand up, he kissed it tenderly and held it against his chest, saying something that both puzzled and frightened her. “No matter what happens, I want you to know I’m very happy to have you with me.”

It sounded melodramatic. A couple of minutes later, a flight attendant came by. Jenny  sure didn’t envy
that
job. Spending too much time in the plane would render a person completely deaf. She smiled warmly and asked for a cup of tea, and Alex for a big glass of vodka.

She lifted her eyebrows and he squeezed her hand a little. “I am sorry, my precious, but I cannot do this if I’m sober.”

Definitely melodramatic. Maybe it was a cultural thing. “Whatever you have to do.”

He didn’t seem to hear her; he touched her hair and kissed her temple softly. When their drinks came, he slammed the entire glass, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, saying with a bitterness in his voice that she could never have expected, “That’s really disgusting. I hate vodka.”

There wasn’t anything to say. She leaned her head against his shoulder, took his hand, and whispered, “I love you.”

*****

Just thinking of where they were going made Alex feel ill. Jenny never seemed more beautiful to him, or more vulnerable. After spending time with her, in her house, in her world, he would rather go to prison than return home. The contrast was too big. He should stay sober to be able to protect her and an insistent voice claimed he was already risking her life, but he really needed a drink.

The next time the flight attendant came by, he heard Jenny say, “No thank you.”

He opened one eye. “I could do with some more vodka, I’m still much too sober.”

The young woman smiled and made it seem like a perfectly normal request, but she did ask him if there was a problem in Russian, and he shook his head. Jenny probably wondered what they were talking about. Maybe he should teach her the language… Not now. Some other time, if there were other times.

When the woman returned with his drink, he slammed it and shuddered. The liquor was nothing short of hideous. He should say something to reassure Jenny, but couldn’t think of anything.

His thoughts wandered, painting out images of harsh weather, of long rows of men in uniforms, and of people long since dead. Then, the thoughts turned into dreams, and he woke from the plane touching ground. Outside the window was a silhouette of a much too well-known city, and he wished for another drink.

By the time they got their luggage, passed a bar, left the airport and caught a taxi, he was very drunk. Jenny hit him over the arm. “Don’t do this to me.”

She was right, he needed to get a grip, but it was too late. He tried to apologize, but his mouth couldn’t form the words, and she rolled her eyes. The taxi driver’s attempts at conversation came across an enormous distance, and he sunk down in the seat and closed his eyes. He heard Jenny’s voice say, “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

The driver muttered, “American,” in a tone of voice that should be corrected, but he wasn’t up to it. He fumbled for Jenny’s hand, and she brushed his away.

Chapter Eleven

After an eternity or two on icy roads, the car pulled up outside a large white building. They had arrived. There were many high houses, tightly stacked and fairly new, but they were mixed with crumbling old brick walls. It was probably beautiful, and it would look better after some sleep.

Alex’s apartment was fairly big with three rooms and a little kitchen. She took a seat on the edge of a futuristic sofa, feeling utterly out of place. Her furniture was old and cozy, and she didn’t fit in amongst all this black leather, glass, and chrome. Her eyes wandered over bare white walls; there were no photos, no paintings, no decorations of any kind. Hopefully, he didn’t feel this lost in her house.

Alex ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something. It could be interpreted as, “I’m gonna miss being a civilian.” He disappeared into the bedroom and she wanted to turn the TV on, just to get some background noise, but it would be useless. She wouldn’t understand a word of it.

She pulled her feet up under her, seeking comfort in becoming smaller. Everything was strange now, but would probably be okay later when she wasn’t jetlagged and homesick. She clutched her iPod, consoling herself with the familiar shape.

Her lover emerged a couple of minutes later, looking very different dressed in uniform with his hair combed back. He wore a long and thick black coat with gold stars on the shoulders and black pants. She wanted to ask who he was, and what he’d done with the man she knew, but managed to keep quiet. She thought he would storm out on some mysterious male errand, like a search for more booze, but he sat down next to her, ran a hand over his face, and said with some effort, “I have to report in. Listen… things are different here from what you are used to. I don’t want you to go anywhere alone until you, well, get the hang of it.”

The mental images his words evoked came directly from too many movies and TV-shows. She visualized the KGB and the Russian mafia kidnapping her, or coming to kill her. In her imagination, the entire country was filled with scary people with guns, just dying to snatch and sell the foreign woman. She knew she was being ridiculous, but couldn’t help it.

Her lover frightened her even more when he said, “Whatever you do, do not open the door, okay? If anyone knocks, just pretend you’re not here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

This all sounded very strange and sent chills down her back, but she put up a merry face. “Okay, lover. Whatever you say.”

She didn’t even know what time of day it was. They passed through so many time zones and travelled for more hours than she could keep track of. It should be in middle of the night, but her iPod insisted on just before noon local time, and it never lied.

Alex hugged her tight. “Thank you for being here with me. It means a lot to me.”

There was nothing for her to say or do, except pleading with him to
please
not leave her alone. “Please take care.”

Outside seemed dangerous, and he was drunk.

He kissed her hard. Was it possible to get dizzy from someone’s breath? The door fell shut, and she was more lonely than ever before in her life.

Exploring her lover’s apartment for the first time should have been exciting. It was an opportunity to get to know him better, and she travelled a long way to be there with him. So why did her stomach feel like an empty pit?

Food might solve the problem. An excursion into the kitchen didn’t reveal much, and she sure wasn’t going outside to try to buy something. Eventually, she found some crackers in a cupboard, sat down in front of the TV, and watched what appeared to be a Russian version of
Jeopardy
.

The program was incomprehensible, but worked for background noise. After the frugal meal, she roamed around the apartment, but couldn’t find one single thing that reminded her of Alex. Maybe they went through the wrong door; he was groggy enough not to notice if they entered someone else’s home.

She ended up in the sofa, playing with the iPod, and eventually fell asleep there.

*****

Jenny woke hours later from the sound of the door. Alex looked very tired and somehow different, and she wondered what happened, but was afraid to ask. The way he held on to her reminded her of a person drowning, clinging to the only thing keeping him above the surface, and for the first time, she was relieved when he relaxed his grip.

“I guess we have to go shopping. There’s not a thing in this dump. Do you want to come with me?”

She nodded and ran her fingers through her hair. The curly mess wouldn’t straighten out.

“You look fine. You always look fine.”

The words were sweet, but didn’t reassure her. Neither did the short walk to the store. Alex said, “It’s a nice city. Just not for me.” Everything he said since landing in Russia had been cryptic, so she let this pass too. He might make more sense in the morning.

Once they reached the store, Jenny’s eyed the shelves, and didn’t recognize one single thing. Even in Moscow, flashes of her own language greeted her. Here, everything was written with Cyrillic letters, and the clerk only spoke Russian.

Jenny never longed for a Coke this much in her life. She didn’t even like soda all that much, but she wanted to see the familiar red can.

Alex carried their purchases back in a cardboard box, put it down in the kitchen, tossed his thick coat over a chair, and they unpacked together. Doing these everyday chores made her feel much better, and made him seem a little more content. Once the box was empty, he tossed it in a corner, kissed her absent-mindedly on the cheek, and said, “I’ll be in the office. I have some work to do. Okay?”

He left, and Jenny stood alone in the kitchen. How could he possibly imagine getting work done when he couldn’t even talk straight? She shrugged it off; he was an adult, more than likely able to take care of himself. She was hungry, and making dinner should be a priority. It took quite a while to find everything, and to figure out how to light the gas stove. The better part of an hour passed as she made pasta with a nice tomato basil sauce and garlic bread. He didn’t have many kitchen utensils, or pots and pans for that matter, and she improvised. Some things became so backwards she had to laugh in spite of all.

The result of her efforts both smelled and tasted good, and she exclaimed, “Yes, I did it!”

Her voice seemed much too loud in the empty kitchen and she barely stifled an impulse to smack her hands over her mouth. She could cook just fine back home, but there she could also read the labels.

Alex was nowhere to be seen, and she fidgeted for a while, strolling around the rest of the apartment. Being this nervous was stupid. He asked her to come with him, and he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want her there. She gathered courage and knocked on the door to the room serving as his office.

Alex answered something in Russian, and she took a deep breath, thinking, “I will not call my Russian lover an idiot.”

“Hey handsome, can I come in?”

He answered slowly, sounding fatigued, “Of course. I just… closing the door is an old habit.”

The desk was cluttered with blueprints, and he sat behind it, looking pale and tired. She peeked at the half-filled glass of vodka next to him, and decided against the role of a nagging girlfriend. She massaged his shoulders instead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leaning his head back towards her, he closed his eyes and answered, “That is so nice… And yes I would, but I can’t.”

He fell silent and Jenny thought he was drifting off to sleep until he suddenly spun the chair around and pulled her down on his lap. She wasn’t sure if he was joking when he said, “Or, I could tell you, but I would have to kill you afterwards, and I really don’t want to do that. It would break my heart.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his temple. “Yeah, I don’t want that either. I’ve made some pasta. Want some?”

He shook his head, “You know, I don’t really feel well.”

“Would you come keep me company? It’s awful lonely out there, and you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

The request sounded reasonable and not too manipulative, and he nodded slowly and came with her. He put a hand at the small of her back, and she suddenly wanted him so badly. She turned around and wrapped her arms around him, pressed her lips against his, and hoped he would take her to bed. Then, just as he returned her kisses, the smell of dinner attacked with full force. “Good idea, but dinner first. I’m so hungry.”

He nodded obediently and ran his fingers over her cheek.

*****

Alex took a small plate of food just to be polite; she clearly put a lot of effort into it. He felt woozy and few things seemed less appealing than eating, but once he tasted the first bite, his stomach gave a loud grumble. “How did you do that?”

“What’s that, lover?”

He gestured towards the plate with his fork. “This. It’s good.”

Jenny laughed. “Of course it’s good. I made it. You don’t doubt my skills, do you?”

She sounded so happy he had to laugh too. “No. I doubt the ingredients. And you must admit most Americans get their food from drive-through windows.”

“Touché.” It was good to see her smile.

Eating something and drinking water sobered him up. He wasn’t too happy about
that
, but Jenny seemed content. Somehow, all the food disappeared, and doing dishes together made everything seem almost normal.