4. Comfortable
Glancing at the clock beside her bed, Linka suppressed a yawn and switched the phone to her other ear. She had been talking with her childhood friend, Danya, for the past hour, a sure sign that both girls were extremely chatty with one another. Linka liked to listen to Danya as she narrated all the events of their hometown, how it always seemed to change but, in the end, really stay the same. There were times when Linka felt a wave of homesickness for the people and places she loved, but she knew that she had grown beyond what her hometown could give her. She had never particularly liked the quiet, predictable life it offered. Danya, on the other hand, seemed more than content with her role as a housewife, perhaps because she had just married and was still in the process of adjusting to the daily routine that came with it.
"You will come home for Christmas, da?" asked Danya in their native tongue, not before reminding Linka that she had missed last year's Christmas celebrations.
"The giant oil spill did not seem to take note that it was Christmas time," replied Linka. "Environmental catastrophes can happen at any time, Danya, and we have to be ready."
"Grandmuska could find no peace at the dinner table. She kept repeating, 'if Linka were here…'. It became really morbid at one point, made us all feel like you'd died. We all waited for her to bring out a framed photograph of you and light a candle by it, in memory of you."
Linka laughed.
"I'll try my best to make it this year, there are still a couple of months to try and plan things out."
"You know that you are welcome to bring your friends along. The more the merrier."
"Da, we always end up inviting each other over at Christmas time, it is the one holiday we all have in common, it seems."
"You know that Grandmuska was asking after the American the other day? She wants you to invite him for the holidays. Linka, you need to! I can't believe I still haven't seen him, it's utterly unfair to deny your best friend that, you know."
"It's your own fault you were on your honeymoon when the Planeteers were in town," replied Linka in her defense. It was also not her fault that her Grandmuska had taken a liking to Wheeler, despite her limited knowledge of the English language. Perhaps this was for the best, however, because she had talked incessantly of how 'good-looking' and 'sunny' Wheeler was, and 'nice' too, and that her granddaughter should sit beside him at the dinner table, and serve him like a woman should a good man, and all kinds of other things that Linka would never live down had Wheeler understood any Russian.
"Don't make me plan some crazy environmental disaster here in town just so I can see him, Linka," Danya was badgering her. "You know I would be capable of that."
"I know, I saw you using your twenty cans of hairspray per day, remember?"
"May I remind you, while you are being funny and lighthearted, some other woman is planning how to steal your American sweetheart away from you. The way Grandmuska describes him, you either have a firm grip on him or someone else will. Well, do you?"
"Why is it we can't have one conversation without talking about this subject?" complained Linka, carefully observing her freshly painted nails. They were light pink.
"How can you not know if you are together or not?" Danya went on, exasperated. "You can tell from one look. I knew that Nic was for me the first time our glances met."
"Danya, he was married at the time!" Linka exclaimed, still finding it hard to believe that Danya had gone from being someone's lover to someone's wife in the span of one year.
"I'm just saying, when you know, you know."
"Well, some people are not as readily convinced as others," was the matter-of-fact response Linka offered.
"What do you feel for this guy? Do you at least know that? You must have kissed him. Come on, Linka, tell me you have… at least that!"
"Maybe," said Linka mysteriously, taking note that there was a certain sense of satisfaction in being difficult. She was not sure she had the answers Danya was looking for, the spicy details she was hoping to uncover. Like some twisted scoop. Just yesterday, when Wheeler had returned hours before his expected arrival, Linka had found herself running towards him, and he had lifted her up in his arms and twirled her about like a kite. She had been laughing, feeling happier than she had expected. Purely joyous, in fact. Then again, her emotions for Wheeler, or better, the strength of her emotions for Wheeler, always surprised her. To her, he was kind of like the first day of holidays after a long, hard year of work. But, you know, no big deal, she kept reminding herself, stubbornly.
Linka had been smiling and their faces had been inches apart. They had been speaking, she could not remember the exact words now, when he had given her a quick kiss on the lips. Soft and warm. She remembered he had examined her face closely for a reaction afterwards, but she had not readily offered one. The feel of his lips had lingered on hers, and her mind had gone hazy. Linka had had no time to process the incident for the other Planeteers had started to come forward to greet Wheeler, and the pair had been forced to separate.
"Danya, I'm really sorry, but I have to get going now," spoke up Linka, lightly brushing her lips with her fingers at the memory of the kiss. It was getting late and she still had to get ready for bed. "I'll call you when I have more news to report."
"You won't have much news to report if you keep putting up obstacles for yourself," chided her friend. "But…I trust that you know what you are doing. You are stubborn, but also very bright. Just believe in your ability to…let's say, conquer the Americas."
"Goodbye, Danya." Click. Nevertheless, Linka was smiling.
Once she had hung up the telephone, she saw that she had a message waiting for her.
'Night, hottie. Don't forget about our run tomorrow morning.
It was sent about an hour ago. Gi. No use in replying now, she was probably already asleep, rationalized Linka. She, herself, was not particularly sleepy, but changed into some pajamas, a cute shorts and tank top combo, anyway. She went on to wash off her makeup, brush her teeth, and take her hair out of her usual ponytail. Linka had just finished brushing its length until it laid pretty and loose on her shoulders, when her phone announced she had another message. Probably Gi, wondering why she had not written back, guessed Linka, plopping down on her bed with cell phone in hand. The message, however, was from Wheeler this time.
Midnight. Common room. Dress code: pj's (unless you want clothing to be optional?);P
Linka wondered what the crazy Yankee had in mind now as she replaced the phone on her nightstand. She glanced at herself in her full length mirror, wondering if this was possibly any sort of proper attire for a 'date' (wait, is that what it was?). Totally simple, totally comfortable. It mirrored exactly how she felt. A shrug. If Wheeler could be this spontaneous, then so could she. Just in case, she ran a hand through her hair and adjusted her top a little before reaching for the door handle.
Her heart was beating a little more rapidly as she ran the short distance to the common room. The night was beautiful and with the soft grass underneath her bare feet, Linka felt more alive than ever. That was another thing she had discovered when it came to Wheeler. It did not matter if they were fighting, or if he decided to kiss her all of a sudden, the result was that he made her come alive, a sort of strange, intoxicating adrenaline that was exclusive to his presence near her.
Wheeler was lighting the last of the small candles that provided the dim lighting when she entered the common room. He noticed her and smiled, a mixture of surprise and delight on his features. He had not known whether she would have accepted the offer, guessed Linka, secretly pleased that he could worry about such a thing.
"I knew you'd be clothed," he teased, walking towards her. He was wearing a blue cotton T-shirt to match his pajama pants.
"Dork," Linka had to roll her eyes at his humor. He had already taken both of her hands to lead her to the center of the room. On the coffee table was a spread of snacks that could make a member of Jenny Craig cry. Chips and freshly popped popcorn, gummy bears and brightly colored candy, chocolate raisins and peanut butter cups. There was also a champagne bucket filled with ice, only a bottle of Coke was being chilled.
Linka laughed, unable to contain herself. "What is all this, Yankee?"
"Movie night, babe. Can't watch a movie without snacks."
Wheeler sat her down on the sofa and produced a few DVDs for her to examine.
"Now, I'm letting you pick the movie because I know you'll be fair. This one, for example," he went on, placing a DVD in her lap, "is a solid guy movie. Excellent choice, in my opinion. No frilly stuff, just lots of fighting, the occasional hot girl, standard explosions, all that."
Amused, Linka gave him a playful look and tossed the movie aside.
"Ok, I get it," he rolled his eyes at her. He selected another one and held it up for her to see. "This one's a documentary. Looks interesting, you're probably thinking. Well, I know I'll fall asleep through it and then you'll have to finish all these snacks by yourself. Might not be a wise idea."
Linka, with a sigh, tossed that one aside, as well.
"Very good," grinned Wheeler. "Next, we have this sappy flick. Not sure about the details, but judging by the cover, this is probably more painful than the documentary."
With a shrug, Linka placed that one with the others.
His grin was wide for her. "This is why you're here and not some other girl, babe."
"At least you are easy to please. Let me see the rest of the movies, maybe there is something you will watch in there."
They compromised on a romantic comedy that was more comic than romantic, and that seemed to suit them just fine. In a matter of minutes, Linka's head was resting comfortably against his chest, his arm draped over her shoulders, the other one placed around her waist, holding her in place. Linka continued to be astonished at how easy it was to be with Wheeler, how uncomplicated, natural and… right. Just right. She had no cares in the world as she watched the onscreen action, nibbled on warm popcorn and listened to the steady beating of Wheeler's heart. She was not worried about the way she looked, that she had no makeup on or fancy shoes that aimed to impress. She could just be.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Wheeler voiced in her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck. Linka's top had ridden up over her waist and he was making slow circles with his fingers on the exposed skin of her abdomen.
Linka was very distracted by his touch, causing a delay in her response.
"I do not see why I would not," she finally let out when she found her voice.
"I'm glad you're here," he revealed while hugging her closer to him.
Linka wished she had the courage to lift her head and look into his eyes, but at present, it eluded her. She was almost afraid of what she would see there. It was already present in his voice. Worse yet, she did not want him to see what lay in her eyes. A truth that could barely be hidden anymore, but that the Russian girl protected jealously like a new mother. His touch, his nearness…all of it was playing havoc with her senses. She needed time to make sense of it. With being open, like she was allowing herself to be, came feelings that Linka did not know how to categorize. This caused her to be unsure of herself; it was all new to her. And with all new things, caution. For the moment, she was content to be in his arms and enjoy his attentions. However, she could not ignore the little voice inside her head that told her she needed more, wanted more from him. For his glance to linger a bit longer on her, for his touch to become bolder, for him to kiss her like…
Linka closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. Enough! she ordered her mind, silently. No point in making a scene now. Just enjoy the movie. Besides, we cannot have anything happening now, we are just enjoying a 'chill' night, as he would say. Relax. Breathe. You knew this new attitude would be trouble…you just did not anticipate the kind of trouble it would lead you to! And to make things worse, you secretly deem this as fun trouble. Exciting trouble. Trouble you just can't live without.
Bozhe Moi.