I’ll Wait For You

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“Good,” Kostya said. “Though thinking about it does add stress and frustration. Just to put it simply, they are this kind of family. They are the kind of people who will invite you to something once, and if you don’t take the first invitation for whatever reason, then you’ll never get another offer again. And if you question them about it, they will go, ‘but oh! I thought you didn’t like it. That’s why you don’t get invited anymore!’”

Kostya clenched and unclenched his fist as he reflected on the issues, channeling the irritation into a calming gesture. “Really, it’s a polite but impolite way of just making sure that I will get left out of the loop when it comes to important social gatherings. Under the guise of assuming that I will not do something because I refused it once. Like with a guest. You offer them a cup of tea. They say no. Does that mean you’ll never offer that to them again?”

“Well… if they say they don’t like tea, and they don’t want you to offer it to them, then sure.”

“But if they don’t mind, but just didn’t want one at that moment, is it fair for you to assume they will never want one?”

Elinor shrugged. “I suppose not. People do like to look for excuses and leap to conclusions. I do that as well. My assumptions aren’t always the best.”

“Did you assume you might end up in bed with me?” Kostya asked. At this, Elinor flushed slightly, before swatting him on the nose.

“No! Okay, so I might have daydreamed a little about it. But I didn’t assume! I couldn’t assume something like that. There’s just –” she hesitated, sighed. “I come from too poor a background and standing to even associate with the likes of you. Let alone interact deeper than that.”

“Why? Even billionaires will sleep with prostitutes. Not that I’m saying you’re one.” Kostya said, grimacing at how the words must have sounded, “But why should it matter?”

“Nice,” Elinor said, thoroughly irritated at the comparison. It made her feel as though the only reason Kostya had even bothered to undress her was because he wanted a fu*k buddy. “You might want to elaborate on that before I start hating you.”

Kostya leaned forward in earnest, keen to explain. The screen in front of them flickered into standby mode. Elinor curled up, knees against her chest. “Why should it matter, where you come from? You are still a woman in face and flesh. You have a personality, a mind, hopes and dreams. Take away all these self-inflicted rules we place on ourselves, and what difference is there, really? The only difference comes from the social structures we place upon ourselves.” He checked to make sure Elinor was following, listening. The words calmed her, made her let go of the flash of irritation.

“We go to a desert island, without anything but ourselves, the only thing that matters is our minds. Not our material assets. And obviously in that scenario, if you’re capable of not starving to death or succumbing to thirst.”

Elinor nodded. His words made sense. They also stirred a faint notion of hope. If this matched closer to Kostya’s views, then it suggested that he didn’t just see her as a piece of meat. If anything, he saw her as something valuable. Worthwhile.

That meant a lot.

It meant, theoretically, if they continued down this path, their journey held a chance for them to fall in love. True, deep love. Now that Elinor rested on the sofa, watching Kostya’s incredible eyes, his beautiful sculpted body, the ideas he wanted to convey – she visualized falling in love. Of them doing everything together. More s*x, more time spent in each other’s arms. Marriage, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with him, as cameras flashed from all angles. No – a private wedding, with just them and their close family and friends, no intrusive cameras. She didn’t want the attention, just the chance for love. Would it be a glamorous, expensive wedding that cost millions? Picturing the whole venue draped in luxury made her sweat. No. Wealth was pretentious, horrifying – she wouldn’t even be able to get through reception without thinking of all the better causes the money could have gone to. 

A discreet, inexpensive wedding. Them living together in a house, honoring the memory of his dead wife and child by letting him experience the chance for love again.

Having children…

The fantasy ground to a chilling halt.

If she could even have children. Trying to divert the subject, as Kostya spotted the thundercloud on her face, she told him about losing a potential friend, Karen, hoping he would attribute the change in mood to this. They retired to bed, and Kostya stripped to just his boxers, since he didn’t have other nightclothes, and preferred either boxers or sleeping completely naked, anyway.

In bed, they talked about the songs, they laughed about the small things that bothered them. Kostya, however, brought her close to the subject she disliked by mentioning Aidan.

“Will you cut ties with that man? The one who sends you the awful messages. The one who thinks he has done no wrong.”

Elinor chewed her lip, as she lay on the right side of Kostya, closest to the door. A small bed-lamp illuminated the gaudy room, with the transparent drapes, the red sateen sheets, the same color as blood, the combination of colors turning Kostya’s eyes a strange purplish hue.

After a long time, she reached over for her phone. “If I remove him, it’s like I’m only ignoring the problem. It doesn’t make it go away.”

“It certainly helps with it,” Kostya said, a glint of anger in his face. “That man will never learn to respect you. You will never feel any resolution from keeping him. I think it best for you to break ties altogether.”

“Perhaps. I understand him, on a level, you know. I understand he wanted something, and I didn’t give it. We both wanted that something. And it’s not like I did much to help the relationship either. I… I allowed myself to get lost. To get sad over us, over my stagnant life, and the lives that didn’t make it. You wouldn’t think…” Elinor slammed her head back on the pillow, exhaling loudly. “It’s silly to think something like a miscarriage can affect you so profoundly. Like, many women have these. Some women aren’t always aware they have them, either, if it’s early in the cycle, and they didn’t know they were pregnant. But me? I feel like there’s something hollow. There’s this phantom pain, and every now and then, my emotions go crazy. They grieve.”

Kostya shuffled closer, to cradle her to his chest.

“And there’s the fear that I won’t be able to have them. That there’s something wrong, really wrong with my body.”

“Did you check with a doctor about it? Did you get examined?”

“I couldn’t afford the insurance,” Elinor said, with a bleak smile. “But they insisted from just the miscarriage alone that it was nothing to worry about. Just try again.”

Kostya stroked her short, curly black hair. “Maybe we can do something about that at a later date.”

Elinor fought back some tears. “Yeah. We could.” She placed her phone on the bedside table, under the lamp. “If I do remove him, I will explain to him why. He deserves that much. And the more I think about it, the more relieved he will be that I chose to take the big girl step and close it. I think he still feels guilty somewhere – and wants me to make the decision, so he doesn’t have to.”

“Maybe so,” Kostya said, kissing her forehead, and placing a hand against her stomach. “Maybe so.”

Comforted, the worries dispelled, Elinor drifted into sleep, cradled in Kostya’s warm, strong arms.