HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! :)

So, here goes the part 3. It will cover years from 1989 to 1993 and there will be little historical facts. Expect approximately three chapters.


PART 3

Prague, 1989

It felt good to be home again. November at our place was almost as warm as April in Moscow.

We took turns behind the steering wheel (Since when does she drive?!). After we arrived, she cooked; I washed the dishes. Each of us did half of the paperwork. I liked the new sharing policy.

It was getting late and she disappeared in the bathroom. I headed for the master bedroom, slipped under the sheets and waited. She was taking her time. Was it for me? I found the idea strangely exciting.

At last, she entered. To my deception, she didn't look groomed at all, perfectly laid-back in that baggy old pajamas she loved so much.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed and grabbed the bag which I had brought in for her. "I've been looking everywhere! Alright now, I'm dead tired. Have a good night's sleep," she purred and headed out of the room.

Wait, what?!

"Eva, hold on."

She turned around.

"What's wrong?"

"I… kinda… thought we could…" All of a sudden, I had trouble speaking. "You know… share this bedroom," I finally choked out. She blinked, then burst out laughing.

"And why on Earth would we do that?! We're not slaves anymore. This whole house is ours. If you really want to stay here, I don't mind taking another room."

With that, she grabbed her luggage and left, the disheveled hair flowing behind her like a proud flag.

I suppose we're not sharing everything, then.


I wondered a lot about her. She must realize this is not a game like our previous marriages. Yes, surely she's aware of that. She's a clever girl.

Although I kept telling myself that, my doubts grew stronger with every day. She talked to me a lot about work, explaining what she was doing, asking about what I was up to. On the other hand, from the personal point of view, she kept her distance. I had a right to a hug once in a while, maybe a feathery kiss on the cheek when she was in good mood, but soon, it became too little. Can you imagine how frustrating it was?! I could have any woman, any woman in the world. Except my own wife.

Through it all, I tried to understand. I thought she must still be pained from the heartbreak she had gone through back in Moscow. I decided to give her time.

A year or so later, she started to shop for food strangely often. Even though I liked having fresh meat, fruit and cheese three times a week, I thought it must be pretty time-consuming. I suggested we pay for a delivery service. She just shook her head and said she didn't mind.

One day, I was having a meeting not far away from the marketplace. We finished early, so I thought that I'd pick Eva up and help her get the groceries home, maybe even buy her a nice gift on the way.

The place was swarming with people, but soon enough, I found her. And, at last, I understood why she loved shopping so much.

He was handsome, I had to admit. Charming, too. He knew his way around women, that much was for sure. No wonder she forgot all about her Baltic crush.

"How do you like it?" he asked in a silky voice, watching Eva take a bite of a perfectly ripe peach, eyes closed in bliss.

"It's… delicious," she breathed.

"Just… a drop here." With a perfectly calculated movement, he brushed a bead of juice off her chin. I hadn't seen her blushing like that since 1946.

"How much do I owe you?" she managed once she'd finally emerged from the trance.

"Oh, I can't possibly charge a girl with such mesmerizing eyes. Do come back, Miss."

Missus, I mentally growled. She lowered her gaze, blushing even harder (if possible), gave him a timid smile and left.

Women. Do they ever learn?! Alright, change of plans.

I stayed a bit longer, and, just as expected, a while later, he was doing the exact same thing with another girl.

"'Scuse me." I pushed her aside, facing the young merchant.

"Please don't be rude towards a lady, sir," he said. I felt my blood slowly heat up.

"Listen, you prick, -"

"No need to be so rude, sir." He smiled amicably. I felt like smashing his face with a crowbar.

"The girl you've seen earlier -"

"Which one?"

"The one with green eyes. She's -"

In the meantime, his new victim left, so he probably felt free to act naturally again.

"Dude, do I look like the kind of guy that pays attention to eyes?" He gave out a stupid laugh, pissing me off even more. "Try describing her tits."

For a while, my mind wondered to Eva's breasts. Well, they were nice, full and firm and - Wait, that's none of his business!

"You'd better show more respect when you're talking about my wife!" I yelled. A few other customers turned around to stare at me. He calmed them with a reassuring smile.

"Then you really must be one shitty husband," he hissed. "She just accepted to go out with me tonight. Don't worry though, I'll show her what a true man is." He winked. My fingers were itching to strangle him. Oh, how much I wished that conversation was taking place in a dark alleyway. But we were in the middle of a crowd and all I could do was grind my teeth.

I told him to be careful, that he was playing with fire. He sneered and I left.

I could have stalked him. Taught him a lesson. Broken a rib. Or two. But I needed something more radical. So I called an old "friend" of mine and, just as expected, he offered a wonderful solution. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of that right away.


"Fancy a cocoa?" I handed her a cup. Strong and sweet, just the way she liked it. I was about to add some vanilla extract, when I remembered something. I added cinnamon instead.

"Why not?" She shrugged with a small smile and had a sip. "It works," she then mumbled to herself, suddenly smiling much wider. I asked her what that was about, but she just shook her head in dismissal.

Anyway, by then, my little girl had already realized the date was not happening. She untied the hairdo she'd been working on the whole afternoon and removed the little jewels she had on. We turned on the brand new TV, snuggled under a blanket and watched folks from USSR declaring independence (it is rumored that, in order for Ivan to accept their declaration, they served him some kind of special tea). And I forgave Litva. Maybe it was all just one big coincidence, after all.

Despite the nice and relaxed evening, I caught her glancing at the phone from time to time.

No, darling. He won't come. And he won't call, either. There are no phones where he is now.


-END OF CHAPTER 51-