Interlude: Brooklyn to Ithaca, January, 1995
"Are we going to keep pretending nothing's wrong?"
Vasya stared out the passenger window of the Explorer at the unchanging, snowbound landscape. "Nothing is wrong," he muttered, not meeting Kolya's gaze. "I'm thinking."
"Bullshit. You're worried. I know you too well by now. Your mama isn't well, and it's bothering you."
As usual, the coyote wasn't wrong. After their already uncomfortable evening had ended with Natalya staying overnight in the hospital for observation, and Alexei in an even sourer mood, they'd tried, unsuccessfully, to pretend nothing had happened. Vasya had simply ignored everything for the last 48 hours…his usual defense mechanism against an onslaught of chaos…and that included Kolya and his multiple phone calls and messages. This was the first time they'd seen one another since their awkward parting that night, and now they were stuck together for the next four hours.
"I'm not in the mood, Kolya. Can't we talk about something else?"
"Like what?"
A handful of trivial topics…the Islanders' terrible luck, the unending cold, his growing anxiety about returning to school…and none of them seemed right. None of them could eclipse the knowledge that his mother was sick again. Vasya hadn't been able to think of much else since then. "I don't know. She's not going to get better any time soon, so I'm not going to obsess over it. Let's just turn on the radio or something."
"Can you at least tell me what's wrong with her?"
Vasya winced. He remembered the first time he'd heard the words in English-multiple sclerosis-it almost sounded beautiful if you didn't know any better. He remembered all the fainting and vertigo spells she'd had since then, off and on, always insisting in her stoic way that she felt just fine, then going back to her routines of mopping floors and scrubbing potatoes. All the times he'd collected spare change at school or the local bodega for a cure that might never exist. The late nights his father had spent standing guard at her bedside after he'd thought his son asleep. He sighed deeply. "This isn't something you can just fix, Kolya. There are doctors, lots of them, who can't fix this. You're not even a doctor."
"Yet."
Was there nothing sacred to him? "Look, it's my business, and I say I'm done talking about it right now. Let it go."
Kolya shrugged. "All right, my friend. You win. I'm sorry I brought it up." He stared ahead through the windshield. Flurries had started to fall again and he flicked the car's wipers.
Eastern Pennsylvania flew by outside in a tableau of white and grey. Vasya thought of his mother, back a hundred miles in the opposite direction. There was no telling whether she might have many years or only a few months to live; the doctors had always been vague when it came to any kind of prognosis. And now he was abandoning her yet again.
This is what she would want you to do, Alexei had said that last night in the hospital as Natalya slept. She would want her son to go and make her proud. One more way he'd turned out just like his father: stoic and stubborn, never letting his emotions take control.
And there was Kolya, next to him, a man who'd never met an emotion he didn't want to display proudly on his track jacket sleeve. The coyote was currently singing and beatboxing under his breath to some hip-hop song Vasya didn't know, without a care in the world. There had to be a balance between the two poles; where that was, Vasya had no idea, because he'd never seen that kind of behavior modeled. His papa ruled with an iron fist, his mama had always lingered in that long shadow and struggled with her illness. He'd had no brothers or sisters and their extended family had remained in the Motherland. Was it any wonder he'd been drawn to Kolya like a moth to an open flame?
Would the result be the same, in the end? He could almost hear his father scoffing.
"Vasya, you even awake? I said I'm starving, let's pull over."
Kolya did more than enough talking for the both of them; it wasn't uncommon for Vasya to get lost in thought once the coyote started gabbing away. A sign for "FOOD/GAS" had appeared like a beacon, and Kolya moved the Explorer into the turn lane.
"Honestly, Vasya, you brood like an old babuschka…"
The parking lot to the single gas station was nearly full, a mixed bag of truckers, traveling families in minivans, and a beat-up Chevy pickup hauling a double horse trailer. Kolya found a spot, parked, and stretched like a cat. "Hope this place has Red Bull. I could use a double right now," he said, grinning. "Plus, I'm about out of smokes."
Vasya thought about telling him his opinion of that particular drink, which was that it tasted like cherry-flavored battery acid, but decided against it. Once Kolya had his mind on something, he'd go after it like a hyena on a wounded zebra.
As always, Kolya had dressed incongruously for the climate: his nylon track suit, sideways baseball cap, and Adidas shoes offered little protection against the wind, but drew plenty of interested stares inside the station. He looked like a colorful bird of paradise in a cage full of pigeons. Vasya wore his usual grey sweater and black overcoat; save for his height, no one would have looked twice at him. It was enough that his accent regularly drew people's interest, and he didn't want any more attention than necessary.
The place hadn't looked like much from the interstate, but it was true to its promise of food. Aisles of packaged stuff and a counter offering made-to-order sandwiches awaited. The coyote made a beeline for the cooler where, as it turned out, this piece of rural Pennsylvania didn't offer his favorite energy drink, so he settled for two cans of Surge before adding half a dozen other snack food products of dubious nutritional value to his basket. "I fucking love America. Don't you, Vasya? We'd have never gotten this much variety if we'd stayed at home."
"Hnnh." Vasya wasn't hungry himself…he hadn't eaten much since the disatrous night at his parents' house…but knew in the back of his mind he needed sustenance. Without enthusiasm, he grabbed a pair of beef jerky sticks and a large package of nuclear-orange cheese crackers.
The door jingled open behind them, bringing with it a fresh gust of cold air and a pair of young women dressed like fashion models fresh off a shoot on the tundra. Their eyes immediately landed on Kolya, who was busy examining the wall of cigarette packs, and the dark-haired one whispered something to her redheaded friend. Both giggled.
Either they hadn't noticed Vasya or chose not to. He'd just as soon they didn't. With his mother's condition so heavy on his mind, girls were the last thing he wanted to think about right now.
Which wasn't to say he didn't care about them at all. He was just as enthusiastic about them as any other red-blooded male in his early twenties. He'd just been…unlucky? Cursed? Snakebitten? He felt his cheeks flush just thinking about his love life. The last "date" he'd been on was with a woman nearly twice his age at a mixed gathering whom Kolya had said would "help him learn new things." There hadn't been many dates in the last year or so, between studying and helping his mother, not to mention all the rat-hunting expeditions…
"Jesus, Vasya. You're spacing out again," Kolya said, elbowing him. "I leave you for two minutes and you take a side trip to la-la land without me."
He tried not to let his gaze linger on the two girls, and didn't entirely succeed. "I was thinking about calling my mother. Did you see a phone around here anywhere?" It almost sounded convincing.
"Heh. I know what you were thinking about, my friend, and it wasn't your mama." Kolya elbowed him and, catching the eyes of the girls, winked cartoonishly and pointed to himself. When they giggled, he elbowed Vasya in the side. "See? I'm irresistible to the fairer sex. If you put some effort into it, you might have twice my luck."
Vasya was mortified. This was Kolya's normal setting-fearless, smooth, able to talk to and be charming toward complete strangers-but it wasn't his. He didn't know these girls, and would probably never see them again, and he had the feeling Kolya was about to ask them out. "Maybe we should just say hi and leave," he offered weakly.
"And miss out on a golden opportunity?" Kolya pouted. "See, that's the difference between you and me. You hesitate. If you do, you miss out on things. You get the leftovers. Take some action for a change! I don't know if you've looked in the mirror recently, Vasya, but you're what American girls call a 'super-stud.' You know how much pussy you could get if you tried?"
The flush in his cheeks deepened. "Um…I never really thought about it."
"Of course you haven't. That's why you're still living with your parents, dressing like a 50-year-old man, and spending your Friday nights reading about dead architects."
"Well, to be fair, the architects were pretty interesting."
The red-haired girl whispered something to her friend, and both giggled again.
"Wanna go introduce ourselves?" Kolya grinned. "No time like the present."
There were a number of things Vasya would have preferred to do, like getting a root canal or swimming with piranhas, but he knew better than to try and dissuade the coyote. So he let himself be led over to the girls like a docile bull.
"Hello, ladies," Kolya said without any preamble, as if he were trying to sell them a used car. "Couldn't help but notice your loveliness as you walked in. On your way back to school?"
The brunette girl flashed a dazzling smile at him. "Yeah. Vassar."
"Well. As it turns out, we're driving back to Cornell. Beauty and brains, my kind of combination…"
Vasya felt frozen in place. He'd never known quite what to say to women, despite Kolya's coaching and the many parties he'd been dragged to over the past year. Usually he found that he was either tongue-tied or blurted out some esoteric fact he'd learned about neoclassical architecture or worse, urban rat behavior. The girls, though, seemed to think it was cute. Kolya had repeatedly told him that women liked the "strong and silent" type.
Maybe that's what I need to be. If I don't say much, I can't get into much trouble.
"So maybe we'll see you around? I hear there's some great parties at Cornell," said the redhead, slipping a folded piece of paper into Kolya's palm.
Vasya had no idea what had just happened, as he'd become lost in thought yet again. For all he knew, Kolya had just consigned him to be the entertainment for their next sorority party. "Yeah. Sounds like fun," he said without even thinking, flashing what he hoped was a charming smile.
Both girls stopped, as if taken aback, then giggled madly. For two smart girls, they do a lot of giggling, "You are adorable. Like, seriously adorable," said the dark-haired one, hiccupping with laughter.
"I always liked tall guys myself," the redhead agreed. "Maybe we'll see each other soon and you can make me laugh some more, big guy."
As they turned to leave, the girls were still breathless in their giggles. Under his breath, Vasya said, "What the hell just happened?"
"What happened, my friend, is that they gave us their numbers."
It took him a moment to realize what Kolya meant. "Oh. Their phone numbers. They want us to call them?"
"Hello. Earth to Vasya," Kolya tapped at his forehead. "For such a smart man, you really are dense sometimes. Yes. Their numbers. For us. To call them." He rolled his eyes, then winked. "And maybe a little more than that, know what I mean? I'd call that a win, and you barely had to say a word. Like I said, you're a babe magnet. You just don't know it."
"Hmm." Vasya pulled open the SUV's passenger door, trying to think what to say to that. Between his classwork and his part-time job, there had been little time. Maybe Kolya was right…maybe the ones who truly enjoyed life were the ones who seized the moment and wondered about the consequences later.
I'm just not sure if that's me.
As they pulled away, it occurred to Vasya that he had, in fact, forgotten to call his mama. The snow drifted down and he sipped at a lukewarm bottle of water, wondering where the next phone on the highway might be, and why he was suddenly thinking of what either of those girls might look like beneath their layers of clothing.
