As Long As I Can

May.

I thought I was ready for something bad. Conservative parents, maybe, the kind who would object to a headstrong American girlfriend. Or, yes, maybe an expectation that he would go back to Russia after graduation.

But it took me a full minute to process what he was telling me. I just…couldn’t grasp the idea that his father would hold his own daughter hostage to control his son’s future. Didn’t want to grasp it. It was an order of magnitude worse than the sort of parental interference I’d seen among my friends, a parent insisting on this school, demanding that major.

This was something else entirely.

The train of my thoughts split into multiple directions. One was still processing the awfulness of the situation.

But the other line of questioning took the lead.

“Why?” I said, my hand flying up to my ear, that awful nervous tugging habit of mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You know why.

He didn’t want you to leave.

He thought keeping you around was more important than being honest.

He didn’t look at me, hadn’t since he had gotten to the heart of the thing. Now he put his head in his hands. “Because I’m a selfish razboynik,” he said, and the echo from when we first met stung. Razboynik. Thief. “I thought you’d figure that out sooner, would leave me like the smart woman you are.” The ghost of a smile flitted across his face, a bitter one. “I have never wanted something like…this,” he said, gesturing at the apartment around us without lifting his head. “Never let myself want it. But once I tasted what it could be like, with you, I just…” He trailed off and finally, finally looked at me, his blue eyes wide with anguish. “When I realized what I wanted, I thought maybe I could find a way to push back without killing Dasha’s ambitions.”

“But…but that’s not fair,” I argued, even though he must have understood that better than I could. “Neither of you should have to give up your lives just for what your dad wants.” I bit my lip. “Could he be bluffing?”

Misha chuckled humorlessly. “My father does not bluff. He gets nothing from helping Dasha with the violin. But he cannot use her like he can me. Russia is still Russia, and women do not often climb high in business. So her best use is as a tool to keep me in line.” He sighed. “And even if that were not true, he could make it impossible for me to stay here. It would be nothing to him to get my visa revoked.”

“But…but what about when Dariya turns eighteen? That’s only a couple of years, right?” I leaned forward, heard the pleading in my voice.

“Eighteen helps, but it’s not a solution,” he shook his head, leaning back against the couch, staring at my ceiling. Our ceiling. “He could still block her. Not just no classes or instruments. He could keep many orchestras from taking her on.” He finally reached out then, put his hand on mine. “I know I’ve stolen these months from you. But I would not ask you to wait two whole years on a maybe, Emma. Even I am not that selfish.”

I squeezed his hand, my mind whirling at a million miles a minute, the rage at his situation drowning out the anger that he hadn’t said anything. “You aren’t selfish,” I declared, startling both of us with my vehemence. “’Selfish’ isn’t the word for selling your own future for your sister’s sake, Misha.” I took his head in my hands and made him look at me, wished I could make him look at himself. Make him see himself the way I saw him. “Your dad is—is—is awful,” I sputtered, words failing me in my frustration. “But somehow you came from that, from him, and you’re…you’re kind. And sweet. And loving, and wonderful, and Misha, I can’t stand this,” I said, feeling tears swelling in my eyes.

He clapped his hand over his mouth, holding back a choking sound. Then he fell onto me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I threw my arms around him, holding him as he shook, feeling him soaking my shoulder silently. He mumbled Russian words into my shoulder, but I didn’t understand it all. “Ty nevozmozhnaya…slyshish? Slishkom khoroshaya. Ya ne mogu… perestan.” I knew khoroshaya, good, and ya ne mogu…I can’t. That was all I got.

That was enough.

“You don’t have to,” I murmured into his hair. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to.” We sat together for a while until he could shudder a full breath. He sat up from my shoulder and pressed his forehead against mine instead.

“I have done nothing to deserve how you look at me,” he said.

“You’re wrong,” I answered, shaking my head, his moving with mine. “You deserve so much better, Misha.” He scoffed, but I climbed onto his lap and he tucked me under his chin. “I mean it. If your father is as bad as you say, you’re like a miracle, Misha.”

“Stoy—stop,” he said, his breath hitching on the word as he squeezed me almost too tight. “Just…tell me when I have to let you go.” I paused, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart pounding inside. Reality began to slowly sink in: there might be no future here. That as soon as four months from now, I might have to give him up. Maybe forever.

I consider myself a level-headed person. If I run into something I can’t analyze my way out of, I change directions and don’t dwell. From that perspective, the smart move was to let Misha go. Let him find his own way forward without making him think about my feelings. Maybe he’d find a path back to me, maybe he wouldn’t, but it could hurt both of us to let this continue.

Every single voice in my head rejected that.

“I don’t want you to let go,” I said finally, and his arms stilled around me. “I…this is worse than I expected,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you before we’ve even had a chance to try.” I pulled away and looked him in the eyes again, as red as I’m sure mine were. “And I’d rather have four more months of you than none.”

“Blyat,” he swore under his breath, rubbing my back gently. “You are too smart for that.”

“Or maybe I’m too smart to give up something this good,” I said, nudging his nose with mine, trying for a hint of playfulness in spite of the disaster that sat around us like an oppressive smog. His lips quivered. “Misha, if it hurts, I won’t make you stay. But…I want you to stay.”

He inhaled deeply and let it out, then pressed his lips to my forehead fiercely. “I’ll stay,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Of course I’ll stay. Whatever you want. As long as you want. As long—”

I leaned up and kissed him, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence.As long as I can.

Author’s Note

B-Side Track: Natalie Taylor – I’ll Stand By You

You surely didn’t think Emma was going to give up without a fight, did you? Even if she’s not sure what a fight might look like here.

FUN FACT:

No bonus this week. But all of the remaining chapters will have bonus content…except one. 😈

So, let’s see what these two come up with!