MOSCOW, Nov. 22, 2003 -- It’s Sunday morning, and the ground is covered with white for the second time this week. Winter is settling in earnest, and although temperatures haven’t yet sunk much below zero, the forecast is for temps down to –20 degrees F before the winter is over.
Next week is Thanksgiving, and a month from now “the family” will be celebrating Christmas in Prague.
Maybe.
At this moment I don’t really feel like celebrating in Prague – or at all, for that matter.
Yegor and I had a major argument last night.
I was not in a good mood to start with. I got up yesterday morning to face a cluttered and dirty kitchen, a sink full of unwashed dishes, and a student at 10 o’clock.
Furthermore, Yegor and Anton had scurried off at midnight to Anton’s friend Arsen, where they sit and watch porn movies all night long and sleep with whoever happens to be there. No sex, just sleep, they insist. I’m not jealous so much as disgusted.
And to top if all off, Shurik was chatting on the net when at about 1 a.m. he jumped up and announced he was running off to Volodya’s to spend the night.
If Alexei hadn’t been here I would have been furious. As it was, I was quite content to snuggle with him all night long and have sex twice.
Still, washing three other people’s dirty dishes and mopping up somebody else’s dirt and mud are not calculated to give a real lift to a gloomy November Saturday. So I sat down and wrote a note to Yegor, Anton, Shurik, and Yuri announcing that on Tuesday and Friday evenings, when I have students on the following morning, they have to clean the kitchen, the bathroom, and the entry and hallway.
Furthermore, I had just finished Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith, a sad and tragic tearjerker that jerked more than my share of tears, just about the time that Shurik announced he was again going to spend the night at Volodya’s because it’s somebody’s birthday.
And to top it all off, the TV was full of reminders that this weekend is the 40th anniversary of JFK’s assassination.
So I was feeling a bit down when I went in to play smacky mouth with Yegor. “I’d like to sleep with you tonight on the living room couch,” I said.
“Yes, of course.”
Yegor had spent nearly the whole week at his aunt’s in Sandova, where he had gone to get some documents his mother had sent him verifying his high school education, which he will need when he starts applying for universities. While there, his aunt had asked him to help them by giving them some money to buy hay for their three cows. Seems they had a very bad hay crop, which not only deprived them of the hay they needed for the cows, but also drove the price of the remaining hay up so high they couldn’t afford to buy it. Could he manage to spare to buy hay?
He had told them he would try.
Igor has landed a shoestring job teaching basic English to a couple of 10-year-olds four hours a week at five bucksi an hour. It gives him money for cigarettes, night clubs, etc. Except for that, I’m his only source of funds. Of course, I told him we would help his aunt.
He had planned to go on Monday to Tver, where he would meet his uncle and give him the . In the meantime, the travel agent had called and suggested they go to the Czech Embassy on Monday to get his visa. But if he went to the Embassy on Monday, he would have to postpone the trip to Tver, which would require a phone call, which would require a telephone card, which we had because I had bought one so Shurik could give his mother an emergency call the night before
So I was sitting in the kitchen sipping G&T out of a can when Yegor came in for a smoke.
“Have you called your aunt?” I asked.
“No, I don’t have a card.”
“But I bought one for Shurik just two nights ago,” I said, a little puzzled.
“Somebody used it.”
“Who?”
“Anton.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, ‘what for’? to make a phone call, of course.”
“To whom”
“That’s his business.”
That set me off. “His business” meant not mine.
“What do you mean, ‘his business’? I paid for the f*g card!”
I erupted.
“His mother,” Yegor replied, somewhat taken aback.
But I was hurt and shocked. Yegor and I have agreed that we are life partners. I’m trying to save money so he can go to the university next fall, and I’m taking him to Prague for Christmas, an expensive diversion. I expect his help in controlling expenses, not dodging and evasion.
Furthermore, I didn’t care if Anton had used the card to call his mother. I always pay for his phone calls to Vladikafkaz anyway. In fact, I had suspected that Anton had used it to call his mother because he had just told me that he had talked to his mother and that she had reminded him that it was his aunt’s birthday in Moscow, which he had forgotten. It would have been a terrible embarrassment and family scandal if she hadn’t reminded him.
What incensed me was that Yegor had perceived that I would be angry at Anton for using the card, and so he was protecting Anton – from me, his partner. So they have decided, ‘it’s you and me baby against him!’
Very uncomfortable, very disturbing, very upsetting.
I was outraged a) that Yegor had so misjudged my character and mood; and b) even if it had been true, he should have been helping me keep track of who was spending my money instead of trying to keep me from finding out.
When Anton, hearing his name being badmintoned around the kitchen, came to see what it was all about, Yegor gave Anton one of his see-he’s-acting-that-way-again looks, which made it very clear in my mind that it was Yegor’s relationship with Anton that mattered, not his relationship with me, and that Yegor neither loved nor respected me.
I stalked to the couch in the living room to drink G&T and watch victorious demonstrators in Tbilisi, Georgia, drive the bogus Georgian parliament from its ill-gotten seats. Yegor suddenly entered wearing only his shorts. I remembered my earlier suggestion: “Are you ready to go to bed?” I asked. He nodded. I took off my clothes and we went to bed without speaking or touching.
Sunday morning after I finished the devilish Will Shortz NY Times crossword puzzle from the Moscow Times, I sat down at my computer, which woke Anton, who in turn went to the living room and woke Yegor.
When we were finally alone, I told Yegor I was very upset. “So am I, he retorted angrily.” “Why did you tell me it was none of my business?” “I didn’t say it was none of your business.” “Yes you did.” “Are you going to tell me what I said?” “Yes, I am.” “I didn’t say it was none of your business, I said it was his business.” “So if it’s his business, it’s none of mine, right?” “Yes.” “Do you really think it was none of my business?” “No.” “Then why did you tell me that?” He hedged and jumped and weaseled until I finally concluded:
“What it tells me is that you don’t respect me and you don’t love me.”
“Umm-hmm,” he said, getting up and stalking into the kitchen. “You’ll find some boys who love and respect you.”
I followed him: “Is it too late to get our money back from Prague?” “I don’t know.” “Well, find out, because I don’t want to go to Prague with you if you don’t respect and love me.”
“That’s the real reason,” he smoldered.
Yegor left to give his student an English lesson. When he returned, Shurik came to the kitchen: Yegor said we’re not going to Prague.”
“Yegor and I had a very serious argument,” I replied, and I don’t want to go to Prague with somebody I’m angry at.”
“What about the rest of us?”
“Maybe you and I will go to Prague.”
“What about Anton?”
“I don’t know.”
Clearly it was time to draw this to a head: Either restore the relationship or end it.
When Yegor and I again found ourselves alone in the kitchen, I said, “I felt very betrayed by you last night. You and I are partners, I’m trying to save money so you can go to the university next fall, and you’re supposed to be helping me keep track of expenses. Instead, you’re trying to hide expenses from me.
“And you really think this is about the 90-ruble telephone card, don’t you?” I continued. “I didn’t care about the 90 rubles; in fact, I was ready to give you 90 rubles to go buy a new one. I was just curious about what had happened to the one I just bought.
“And you were protecting Anton – from me! Do you really think I’m such a monster?” I asked.
No, but he knew I was concerned about spending money unnecessarily, and he thought I would be angry about the card; he considered it Shurik’s card, and he had asked Shurik if Anton could use it, and Shurik had said yes. “Of course, you bought the card, but I thought you bought it for Shurik, and that it was his card.”
“I bought it for whoever needed it. And I was going to suggest that you use it to call your aunt. I don’t give a shit about the card or the 90 rubles, what disturbs me is that you were trying to protect Anton from me! We’re partners. We need to be always honest and open with each other. I tell you everything. I have no secrets from you. We need to be completely open, and you were trying to hide this from me. What else are you trying to hide?”
“I’m not trying to hide anything else! I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“And you still haven’t apologized!” I continued.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so warm and so sad. I put my arms around him and kissed him. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Making up is so fuzzy-wuzzy good. We kicked Shurik out of his bed and had wonderful sex – the first time in a long time.
Chapt. # 27 – 1759 words
Columns :: A bump on the road of love
MOSCOW, Nov. 22, 2003 -- Comments: Ratings: 
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