Let it flow

Let it flow

Nobody dropped a fork. Nobody dropped a knife. If you believe the old superstition that meant we were not expecting guests that night, neither a woman, nor a man. There were four of us at the table that needed a better cleaning. I was about to stand up to get a rag from the kitchen sink.

- You should have done it earlier - my husband remarked - Where I come from women are expected to take better care of their house.

- Will you kindly, kindly shut up.. - I whispered leaning close to his ear and giving him a light brushing kiss on the cheek, - for the kids.

He gave me a dirty look. Definitely, we were going to discuss it later, in private.

The boys were engaged in a finger game held to decide who was going to say the blessings. By the time I finished cleaning the table and got back to my seat Sam had won and Bill had called him a cheating bastard, under his breath but loud enough for me to hear. 

We started eating our dinner in silence. The night outside the window was slowly turning from deep purple to blackish blue. The local guys were singing something out of tune downstairs. The boys were eager to finish the food and escape to the safety of the bedroom to the soft persistent lullaby of their cellphones. Eli was eating slowly. I had enjoyed his subtle champing noises before Sam, our baby, was born. The cat climbed on my lap. I gave her an absent-minded pat. Generally, each of us pretended to be absorbed in whatever was left on the plate. The kids left quickly murmuring their thanks. Immediately, muffled mechanical sounds came from the bedroom. Sure thing, they were better off in their somewhat augmented reality. I tried to construct a cheerful thought to concentrate on. I hate the very feeling of being miserable. I was taught it was a shame, - worse - it was pathetic. 

 I recalled the first time our car got stuck in the mud. We were going in the southern direction. It was early spring. Vultures were circling the skies above the desert which had been covered by flowers after the latest rains. It seemed like half the country was out and on their wheels to enjoy the desert bloom that weekend. Suddenly I spotted a field covered by anemones. Without thinking twice I yelled:

- Left! Left! We have to stop there to take pictures. This is a must.

Obediently, Eli made a turn left. We passed a mini-hill in order to park the car by the anemone field - and boom! - our Toyota came to a halt in the middle of the deep muddy puddle we failed to notice. We were newly wed, planning our first child, and my husband didn’t yell at me then blaming me for crazy whims and und inappropriate remarks. We laughed heartily trying to get our car out of the puddle. By the time a military jeep stopped and a beefy captain offered us a hand, the two of us were covered by mud. The captain showed us the safe way to the blooming anemones. We walked round the field, dirty and totally happy taking endless silly pictures. 

The day before our silent family meal our car, Toyota 3, as we nicknamed it, got

stuck in the mud again. Obviously, it had been my fault. Eli was trying to drive into the park when I made some inappropriate remark. As far as I can recall now, I just asked him to be careful and watch where he was driving. Eli made one awkward extra move of the wheel - and there we were, stuck in the mud.

- Where I come from,- yelled Eli,- women don’t nudge their husbands!!

- So, how about getting a divorce and marrying someone perfect for you from where you come from?! - I snapped back. 

- You don’t threaten me, woman - Eli hissed,- I wish you were there, in Ukraine and she were here, by my side.

It wasn’t said on purpose, I assume. Eli has always been quick-tempered. Me - too. Ironically, Ukraine was my home, not his. He came from the South and met her years ago, before we met. It didn’t work then. She got a divorce from her husband after Sam had been born - and here we go! - old love never dies. Eli visited Ukraine, twice a year, presumably, on business. I kept pretending naivety. After all, he always came back, calm and kind of radiant. 

- It can be settled, I assume - I whispered.

He didn’t hear me then.

 I had been nursing this idea for about twenty seven or twenty eight hours.

It was the thirteenth of February. Where I come from thirteen is considered an unlucky number. Where Eli comes from February in general is thought to be the worst month of the year. Most devastating calamities befall people in the month of February. 

- Superstitions, and the power of superstitions, the frictional force of superstitions,- I murmured watching the orange shadow of our living room lamp.

Yesterday, on February the twelfth, our marriage came to an end. We might have missed the exact moment, but after “I wish she were here” there was no way I could redecorate this family. 

I put my fork down with a deliberate sharp clink.

- What? - by now Eli was absorbed in his cellphone and he didn’t look up.

- I ordered a one-way ticket to Kyiv - I informed him and left the table without giving him a chance to reply.

Kyiv wasn’t exactly home but it was the closest and the cosiest place to home I could think of. I sat down on a garden bench and phoned my boss asking for unpaid leave. I had to act quickly. If I wait, I will think of the boys (who didn’t actually need me this much), of responsibility, of conveniences - and reconsider. I will be stuck in the muddy pool again, no real chance for a change. 

 - It is all settled,- I told Eli forty minutes later,- I am leaving the day after tomorrow. I have enough money for about two months. I took unpaid leave from the office, anyway I am under the impression my boss is about to let me go. I know this look in his eyes. I’d better be a couple of steps ahead.

- Are you sure? - Eli asked quietly.

- You wish she were here, so move your ass and do something to bring her,- I told him curtly.

       When my passport was being stamped at the airport I understood that it was totally irresponsible to leave the boys like this. The baby was only fifteen. Bill will be joining the army next year - all right I will be back by that time… And, wait a minute, I can bring them to Kyiv if everything is fine. It will be May and the chestnut trees will blossom all over the city. Kyiv in spring is intoxicating. You fall in love with it immediately, it simply doesn’t leave you a chance. While I was waiting by the flight gate sipping weak coffee from a paper cup I wrote a short poem, my first in fifteen years. I mean, I always intended to sit down and organize the lines which were passing me fluttering like butterflies in the thin air, but somehow I always got distracted by some pressing issue. Where I come from amateur writing is not frowned upon but, of course, it comes after your duties. The duties are simple, omnipresent and never ending like bacteria. You may be under the impression that you’ll manage to find an hour or two for these elusive lines, if not today, tomorrow or next week or during the vacation. Don’t try to deceive yourself - it will never happen. 

Yet, here I was writing again, on a napkin in the most inappropriate place like the old me, twenty three kilos and endless disappointments ago.  

 When our plane touched the ground in the Boryspil airport I didn’t feel ecstatic. I imagined Sam and Billy, the look on their faces when Eli tells him that mom has actually left for good.

I knew I had to come back, there was no question about it, I just needed a short break. So did Eli. He needed time to understand he still loved me, in a way. I was mad at him, but somehow I wasn’t ready to let it go. I would rather let it flow and take its own course so I wouldn’t blame myself later for being too tough (like I have been ever capable of being tough!) or too soft. Waiting in line for the passport control I ordered a return ticket. I will be leaving Kyiv on February the 27th. 

  Eli called me on the 24th, at noon. For some reason I was out of the shelter at the moment, so the call came through. He said

- Thank you. And take care. I wish I could help you.

He sounded awkward. I heard a sweet female voice in the background, a trifle too shrilly, to my taste. Sam was laughing at something. 

- Don’t worry about me. I will be alright,- I told Eli. Then I blocked the contact on my phone. If he needs to talk to me, he can always ask the boys to call. 

I was nearly sure I would make it. That morning the world collapsed on me for the second time. I didn’t believe they would start the war. Where I come from, we always hope for a better outcome, provided we’re still alive and breathing.