| "A Painful Absence" | ||
|
Popov Residence May 27, 2008, 1958 hours The calendar hung on the wall, holding time in its pages; lost time. The days hadn't been marked in any way, but that didn't stop the feeling of extended absence from revolving inside her like a giant tornado of pain, moving about her body as if it were a landscape, concentrating its force on one area for a while, punishing her, then moving on, leaving her with a numb feeling before her attention was focused on the new site of pain. This was how she passed time; staring at the calendar, wishing she could return to the day he was last with her. She wanted him back. It hurt without him. Her mother walked passed, gave her arm a little squeeze to remind her that she wasn't alone, that there were people here for her. She knew that already, but despite that knowledge she couldn't help feeling that she was alone because he wasn't here. Her knight in shining armour. Her protector. Without him she felt venerable, but she had known that his job would involve him leaving for a number of days at a time, but for some reason this seemed different. She couldn't place her finger on it but it troubled her. She finally moved from her position in front of the calendar, hoping that by taking it out of view she would be able to forget about him for a while. The idea was sound, but in reality she knew it wouldn't work; he had infected every part of her life, she needed to see his face, his smile, to know that everything was alright. He was her touchstone; whenever she was scared, unsure, or concerned all she had to do was see him, or hear him whisper those words of reassurance that he always seemed to have an unlimited supply of, and she would feel like everything was right in her world. The light of the computer screen drew her attention to it, causing her to edge nearer as her eyes followed the movement of the object on the screen, bouncing around haphazardly, mimicking her thoughts. Colourful lines, patterns, features. Objects floating on a screen as if they were alive, dancing for her entertainment, for her pleasure, for her distraction. It worked momentarily, up until the point when the lines seemed to position themselves so that Nikolai's face was staring back at her. She shook her head, closing her eyes to cut off the image, and when she opened them it was gone. Could she have simply seen what she wanted to? It was certainly possible, and at the same time disturbing. It proved how much she missed him, and how much she needed him back. That decided it for her: she would get him back. As soon as her father got home she would explain the situation to him and ask him to bring Nikolai back. She knew she could only ask. If Nikolai were the only man capable of doing the job then her father would not be able to recall him, but she hoped that that would not be the case. She heard the door shut, informing her that her father had returned from work, and by the volume of it it had been a good day at the office. She would wait for him to get settled first; no sense in throwing it at him straight away. He walked into the room, his eyes searching in that familiar way that she found both comforting and threatening. Despite her knowing about his work (the unclassified bits) they still did not discuss it. He wanted to keep his work life and his home life separate, and she respected that; Nikolai was a little more open, and so her curiosity was quenched by him. "Dad?" she said as he settled into his usual chair. "Yes Lena?" he answered, his voice neutral as it often was after work. "I need to ask you something." The edge in her voice was too obvious to be mistaken for anything else, and it immediately put her father on guard. He motioned for her to continue. "I want Kolya back." Sergei stopped for a split second, his body unable to move. "He is away on business," was his reply. "I know, but I need him. I'm feeling the kicks more now, and I need him here with me. Isn't there anything you can do?" Instinctively her face adopted the puppy-dog look so often employed by females to get their own way, but in this case it was borne out sheer anguish. He must have sensed this, for as the tears began to roll down her cheeks she felt his arm encompass her. The tears fell onto the fabric of his shirt, turning the light coloured fabric dark. He held her for a while, then finally they moved apart. His hand lifted her face up, then wiped away the remaining tears. "Lena," he said, "I will see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. You must understand the position I'm in. I will not be able to do this again, too many questions will be asked." "I know, but I need him. I'm sorry to put you in this position." She felt slightly guilty now, not realising that she was potentially compromising his position. "Its ok Lena. I must make a call now." She watched him walk out the room, thanking his departing form quietly. Her mother entered a few minutes later, though she must have heard the conversation, or maybe her father had relayed the events just passed to her, because she came straight over and hugged her daughter. "It'll be alright sweetheart," she said softly. She couldn't help herself, the feelings were too strong. The second bout of tears lasted for two minutes, but by the time the last one had dropped to the carpeted floor she knew what she was going to do, the plan having already formed in her mind. Return |
||