If life wasn't already drained of colour, Dmitri's room mate committed suicide and the grey clouds rolled right on in.
We sat, waiting for chips and burgers with beers from the campus bar, watching but not watching soccer. We spoke freer in this place than we did almost anywhere else, for here everyone was so absorbed in their own conversations that they weren't listening to us.
"He killed himself, because he was gay, and in Russia that's persecuted."
I wanted to say something comforting, but what? 'You're country is an asshole' was as close as I could get, and I definitely couldn't say that. He continued,
"He was a brilliant man. He could have done so much for his country."
I leaned my elbows onto the table, "Dmitri, I'm not concerned about him or who he could have been," I reached for his neck and touched it softly, "I'm here for you. I'm concerned for you. Please, stop telling me about him and talk to me."
He looked frustrated when I said that so I decided to lead by example, "I feel like I've failed as a human, because he's dead. I wish I could have known what he was going to do somehow, because I wish I could have talked him out of it. I wasn't even that close to him. I imagine you feel what I feel and more. Can you just talk me though the more? If nothing else, I can help his friend."
"I'm sorry." He sighed. He took a large glug and then my hand and he looked sick.
"Cosima, I'm sorry to ask this, and I don't want you take this the wrong way, but, can I have some space? After tonight, I mean."
I tried to say, "yeah, sure, no problem", but tears betrayed me. He moved in close to me, off his chair, crouching and pulling me into a hug.
"Don't cry, Cos', I just need some distance, I need space so I don't take anything out on you."
"I didn't mean to get all bleary eyed, I understand. Really."
Our food came and he moved back to his chair.
"We'll eat this, go see a movie, and I'll walk you home. Just give me a couple of weeks to…"
"I get it."
And I did, it was just hard to express that through the sudden bout of emotions I hadn't ordered. In truth, I had been wishing he would say it; he was in a horrible place and my efforts had been helpless. He did need space, and so did I. His life seemed a black hole and I didn't want to get sucked in to it. I could live with the anxiety of a half-break-up for a while because any change in the way we were living was welcome. It had been hard since he told me what had been asked of him, the strain hadn't eased despite our best efforts. I knew with me he tried, but without me he sank into it, drowning in despair. Only he could help himself.
So I gave him his space. I didn't call or text for three days, I cried every night and hardly slept and suddenly took up vomiting, which I knew was all stress and anxiety and being separated from him like this. It was all so irrational and spineless and unlike me. I'd never felt like this about someone. It was so hard to bare and yet I had to! I had to get over it, return to my old self again!
Well my heart soared when he broke our hiatus and his face appeared on the screen of my phone. That stupid face he had pulled when we first met. It felt like so long ago.
"Dmitri?"
"Cosima, how are you?"
"Can't complain; no one will listen." I joked feeling like an ass afterwards because of everything he did have to complain about.
"The funeral is tomorrow and… Can you stay here with me tonight?"
"You know I'll come to the funeral with you if it's what you want."
"No, thank you, it will be full of Russian officials and…"
I don't know what he was going to say but my first thought was that if those officials saw him with me that might undermine his credibility. Either because I was American or because I was a nobody. Still, he neither said nor implied as such so I tried not to take my assumption to heart. He continued, "I can't stand the thought of being alone tonight."
"Just tell me when to come."
I bit my knuckle as I tried to stifle my moans as this orgasm seemed unable to end. In a way it was like torture and I would have said anything he wanted me to to make it stop and make him promise to give me another. He stopped, rising up off me, unwittingly displaying to me his strong body, to feel my muscles spasming around him. It tipped him over the edge and he closed his eyes, dropped his jaw and thrust gently once or twice as he rolled through his own climax.
I reached for more vodka, pulled another face as I did every time I touched the stuff straight and he took it off me to do the same, though without the face. He leaned down, pushing his arms under mine to cup the back of my head and kiss my nose.
"You're beautiful." He told me.
"You're not so bad yourself." I grinned at him, stroking the side of his head.
"Can't we just lock the door and never leave?"
"Just fuck like this forever."
He nodded and rolled away from me. I went to freshen up and returned to find him asleep. He had probably been as good at sleeping as I had been of late. I let him lie, pulled on his t-shirt and rested next to him. With the comfort of his body next to me, soon I was out.
When his alarm went the next morning, he was already up and dressed. He looked like a different person in his official military get-up. I hated it. When he first showed it to me, I'd though he looked authoritative and smart, and that base part of my brain that looks for a bread winning mate approved heartily but now I saw the burden of it. The betrayal of it asked of him. I saw its weight.
He kissed me before he left and asked me to stay one more night. I told him I'd come straight here when I was finished work.
