Chapter 2

Linka

It is as if I am on automatic pilot as I make my way from the Geo Cuiser towards our housing complex on Hope Island. I barely feel the breeze of the evening on my bare skin, the way it tugs at my dress. Wisps of my hair brush against my eyes and I distractedly tuck a few strands behind my ear.

What a disaster! I think to myself, and it is in a half-hearted way that I advance on the trim lawn surrounding the central Commons Room. I am referring to my evening, a total wash-out, in more informal terms. I am returning from Greg's house, where I fled from a most unpleasant discussion we were having. It had not started out so heatedly, but had escalated to levels I could no longer manage. This was our first real fight and I feel most confused by it. I think I am in a mild state of shock, actually.

Greg had been in an "off mood" to begin with, and when I asked him about it, it was problems he was having at work that were on his mind. As usual. Greg has a very stressful job (not that I do not!), since the future of the plant is mainly his responsibility. His father pressures him to always give more, and there are days when he literally can take no more. And I made the mistake of wanting to help tonight. I am just built that way, I guess, always flying towards a sensible solution. I have always been like that, even when I was a child "baking" mud pies in the back yard at home. One time, my father caught me sneaking water from a well to pour into the mud, as it had become too hard to model, and he was forever in awe of my determination at such a tender age. It probably means I am very stubborn, too, and I think most people who know me can attest to that.

I am not sure if I am now trying to justify what happened, give it a name, a reason. Greg did not seem to appreciate my thoughtful suggestions over problems at work, and the more I insisted, the more he became angry. I have never seen him as furious as he was tonight. He has a strong personality, but so far he has always been nothing but a gentleman with me. He likes seeing me happy, relaxed, and he often lets me choose what to do on our dates. As I said, he usually tries to leave his work stress behind when he is in my company. But maybe I was too insistent tonight, or the argument became too overwhelming for him, because he neared me at one point and took me by the arms. He started shaking me, not with great force, but the pressure on my arms was strong and it caused me to yelp in pain.

"You are hurting me, Greg!" I called out, my voice sounding shrill and desperate. When he saw the panicked look in my eyes, he immediately let go of me, his mouth hanging a bit open as if he did not know what to say or do next. But I took charge, as per usual, and ran quickly outside towards the place where I had parked the Geo Cruiser.

I remember no details of how I got on the Island, and now I find myself outside the closed off collection of huts, where the rest of my friends are probably sleeping. I run my hands over my arms and wince, glad that I took a cardigan along with me. There could be faint bruises beginning to form and I surely do not want anyone to see them. This is insane! It is hard to believe that such a thing could ever happen to me. I have never experienced anything physical like this before. My father was a hard man, and we led a hard life in Russia, but he never as much raised one little finger to me. This feels like an out of body phenomenon and I do not even know how to categorize it. Maybe I am more stunned than anything. And a little angry. I have always believed no one has the right to hurt another human being, and even self-defense holds its issues for me. Plus, I do not think that Greg's reaction was proportionate to what I did, which was actually trying to help him out!

My cell phone buzzes in my purse and I take it out to examine it. There is a message waiting from Greg. My eyebrows furrow and I bite my lip over what to do. I am feeling quite upset and do not want to hear from him right now, even if it is some sort of apology. But my logic (often my worst enemy) urges me to read the text and I do so, taking in a deep breath.

Linka I don't know what came over me. I can't believe I did something so stupid... Forgive me. I feel so terrible right now and it's my just punishment but please tell me it will end at some point and you'll talk to me again? You know I care about you... I just messed up... I'm sorry. I promise you it will NEVER happen again... I hate myself right now! Please?

A part of me does not like his pathetic apology. A part of me feels a softness at his words, for I can tell they are heartfelt. Another part of me feels vulnerable, naked. These are all things I am not used to and the mixture of them in my head makes me feel dizzy.

I push the door to the Commons Room open and instantly, the smell of freshly popped corn reaches my nose. My stomach grumbles as if on cue, reminding me I have yet to eat. But I only feel a sense of nausea and not actual hunger. The room is dimly lit by a lone, tall lamp in the corner; the bluish glow of the television lights up the rest of the darkness. On the couch are Wheeler and Gi, a plethora of snacks littering the cushion between them. Everything from candy to chips and soda, but thankfully those two do not have to watch their figures. I am a bit more careful about what I eat. I like to know that my body image portrays someone slim and healthy. Maybe it is another form of control I exercise over myself, but it suits me fine.

An actual flash of envy crosses my mind when I look at the pair of them, for they look so comfortable and cozy sitting beside each other, taking in some old movie they will both talk about at breakfast in the morning. They are wearing sweat shirts with the same sports team logo on the front, Wheeler sporting the hood over his red hair, Gi with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and faint lips gloss on. This to me looks like the perfect picture of a great night in, unlike the evening I just had.

"Linka!" Gi spots me first, and a ready smile spreads over her petite face. "How was your date?"

I am standing so awkwardly over them that I decide to sit down in the chair adjacent to the couch, clutching the purse in my lap. My eyes travel to Wheeler, who is readily examining me, and I feel the slightest jolt. He is always able to cause this reaction inside me and I have long given up trying to understand it. I am afraid he will read into my shaken mood, for he is skilled at doing that, so I choose to smile in response to Gi's question. My hope is they will not pick up the falseness behind it.

"Fine."

There is a sense of discomfort whenever I talk about dating Greg, as I know Wheeler has not fully accepted this yet. Nor will he ever, I think. I try not to let it bother me or our harmony in the group, but it is not always easy. There is this unspoken tension between Wheeler and I. More often than not, we make it work, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I were to give in to the feelings I secretly have for him. These are strange, inexplicable emotions that overtake me whenever he is standing a little too close to me or when he looks at me a certain way. Mainly, it frustrates me. A lot. My only defense is to snap back at him, or avoid him for a couple of days, until I feel I am in control again. Then the whole vicious cycle starts all over again as soon as he smiles at me in that way of his.

"You're home early."

It is Wheeler who has spoken up and I notice the sneering curve of his lips. It usually means trouble. "Was Greg afraid he was gonna turn back into a pumpkin?"

The blood flushes to my cheeks and I stand up, as violently as a lightening bolt. I can see Gi's shocked reaction, her mouth set in a small "o". She does not offer a ready comment but I do.

"Oh, grow up, Wheeler!"

I storm out of the room, leaving them both stunned by my bad temper, exacerbated even more tonight by all that has happened. I do not care about what they will have to say about me. I have had just enough of everybody!

I reach my hut and collapse on my bed fully dressed. Usually, I take great care in getting ready for bed, taking off my makeup, brushing my teeth, but all of a sudden I do not care about these things.

That Wheeler! There are times I simply cannot stand him. Must he live to simply infuriate me? I am in this predicament because of him, anyway, and this sends my fury into overdrive. The first time Greg called to ask me out, I remember I was so excited I ran directly to Gi to share the news. But after a few moments, strange feelings of guilt took a hold of me, and I was both happy and sad in the exact same moment. And suddenly, I had to see Wheeler. I badly wanted confirmation from him that it was all right to proceed. Did I want to proceed? As I said earlier, there has always been this ghost-romance between the Yankee and myself, and standing at this crossroads, I grew very confused.

That day, I found him in the Commons Room and as I approached, I discovered he was talking on the phone, to some girl named Christy, nonetheless. The smile on his face was like an arrow to my heart. Apparently, he was having a blast flirting over the telephone with some random girl, and I left unnoticed.

That was it! I vowed to myself that day. It was plain as the sun that Wheeler's main source of entertainment were girls, he liked trying to collect them like playing cards. And I would not be one of them! I needed to distract myself from him, from all the madness that involved him, so I immediately called Greg back to announce I would be delighted to join him for dinner.

I cannot remember ever experiencing such a strange moment in my life. I was bathed in enthusiasm over Greg and heartbreak over Wheeler. I wish I could say that the enthusiasm won out, or that I was experiencing both things in fair parts, but for the rest of the day, I felt utterly heartbroken. It bothered me then, and it makes me angry that it still bothers me now.

Is it my lot in life to feel forever overwhelmed by the strange pull Wheeler exercises over me? Shall I never be truly free of it?