That particular night wore away into a loan of his t-shirt and jeans kept up by broken earphones as a make-shift belt, so we could go to the pub and drink some more while we ate chips and burgers as football occupied the rest of the world in the back ground. Our clothes leapt off of us back in his dorm, somehow, and we had a customary round two for new lovers, that was followed by long conversation in the lamp light filtering through his window and sleep in his arms and his t-shirt for the sake of his roommate, who was gone before we woke up the next day.
Only one day of that week went by without seeing Dmitri and when it came time to leave with We Don't Mention the Z-Word, I couldn't pretend anymore that I hadn't seen a vacancy at the hostel for a job. Front of house work.
I let We Don't Mention the Z-Word go, and waited for Dmitri outside of the class we had said goodbye in front of two hours before. We'd done our soppy teary farewell that morning. Upon seeing me waiting by the corner, he stopped talking to his friends and picked up his pace towards me. I think my feet left the ground as he held me and we kissed. You'd have thought I'd just come back from war.
My life suddenly was no longer in chaos. I had routine, I made friends, I had Dmitri and we shared the little things, like walking aimlessly in company, drinking a couple of beers to put a glow in our cheeks, taking unflattering pictures of oneanother and wrestling to delete them from existence.
I managed to forget that one day, reality would make itself known to us.
Dmitri was quiet, his mind was troubled and we watched television in his dorm together but he wasn't really with me. I wanted to ask, but I chose instead to let him choose to say it. And he did,
"My teacher asked me to spy on my country for America." He said quietly, even robotically. "I'm putting you in danger just saying so out loud."
I sat up and away from him, with no map to help me navigate the English language in this territory.
"You must be absolutely torn." I said quietly, realizing I was stating the obvious but powerless to take it back and try again. His eyes filled with tears that did not spill.
"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything."
"O-okay." I agreed, leaning back into him, staring at the tv but not seeing or hearing it anymore. My mind raced. Dmitri was so patriotic, so loyal and proud and just asking him to betray his homeland was asking him to betray his identity. Surely he would have said no? Did I know him well enough to assume that? If I did, was he bribed? Every man has his price, but Dmitri never seemed particularly interested in money; he had money but his head was in politics not economics. Was he blackmailed then? How could Dmitri be blackmailed though? Would they pull him from school? Damage his reputation? Was I a dirty sort of secret to him in Russia? Was being with an American damaging to his reputation?
On and on I circled.
We found a new pattern. I watched him carefully, unwittingly distancing myself from him while he became more introverted and strained, distancing himself from me and the rest of the world too. My friends at work asked, 'is everything okay with you two?' and I answered honestly, 'he's dealing with some personal stuff so I'm trying to give him his space'. We fell back into our old selves now and again, sex didn't lose its intimacy, we laughed and played and walked but we talked less and silences could suffocate us. We saw each other less too, and though I knew he was fracturing when I wasn't there to keep him together, I didn't know how badly it was until I tried to make light of the elephant in the room.
On my bed, naked, I inched down, down, down. As I teased his cock with my tongue I mumbled, "my Russian Spy" and he pulled himself away from me.
"Never utter those words again." He hissed in my face.
"I'm sorry." I tried, even though I was pissed off at his reaction; like I'd done something evil. He pulled on his joggies and started pacing, escalating to muttering to himself in Russian and then to scattering things off desks.
"Enough, Dmitri."
"I can't do it!" he shouted at me, his finger pointing, but he brought it back down as quickly as he raised it, "This bullshit is for old men who know secrets…" he started ranting to himself. He grew more fevered and I feared he wouldn't be able to calm down so I pulled on my underwear and a t-shirt and stood in front of him. He gripped my upper arms and pushed me almost violently into the wall, where he rested his forehead on mine. He panted.
"Stop it." I whispered. "I know it's hard to stop, but I need you to."
He punch at the wall next to my head and my voice broke.
"Do you know I cry every time you leave me? I don't know what it is, this has never happened before, but I just burst into tears like you're never coming back. Can you imagine what I'm like now that that's a real possibility? I'm not just being stupid anymore."
"If I don't…" he started but faltered until he could control himself better, "If I don't do this, my sister wont get treated for her cancer."
"I didn't know she had cancer." I whispered. He nodded.
"She's all the family I have left. If I do this, she could be alone. If I don't, I will." He held me properly then, and we embraced like we might fall apart if we let go. "And now there's you, and everything has been so perfect, and it could all just go away, and be replaced with blood and pain, and it isn't fair. It's just because I am where I am and my station in my government – military…" he trailed off and the gravity of all this – the burden he carried alone – started to weigh on me. He put his hands to either side of my face and held me so I could do nothing but look at him and after he kissed me he looked me in the eye and said, "I love you. No matter what happens, I love you."
Well I was mess, and I told him faithfully that I loved him too and that night we slept entwined, crying steadily all through to the morning making each other promises no one should have to make to one another.
