CHAPTER 2
Julia
“Isaac tells me you’re from Kiev.”
“Yes. That is where I was born and lived, until very recently.”
“I’ve never been to Russia. I hear it’s a beautiful country. Lots of bears right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to Russia either.”
“But I thought you were from…” Fred continues.
“Kiev is in Ukraine. It is the capital.”
“Oh. Isn’t that pretty much the same thing as—“
“No. We are very different…very, very different.”
I feel Isaac’s grip tighten on mine, his signal that I need to avoid being so direct. I’m still not used to these Western ways of speaking and communicating. Where I come from nothing is sugar coated. The most commonly heard word is “no.” I often use it myself.
“Would you like a faux fur coat, Yulia?” my last boyfriend in Kiev asked me.
“What is faux?”
“It is similar to the real thing, just a little different.”
“No.”
“Would you like to go ice fishing, Yulia?” my brother would ask.
“No.”
And my favorite was my mother’s question, which she asked at least ten times per day. “Will you marry soon, Yulia?”
“No.”
I wanted to be my own woman. I wanted to do things myself, to go off and see the world. I wanted to become well rounded and learn new things. And most importantly I always wanted to see U.S.A. I had seen it in movies and on television and I knew one day I would visit it and I would absolutely fall in love with it, and maybe an American man too.
Except I didn’t. When I heard of a work and travel program that was offered to the United States I applied the same day. It took some time to raise the money to go, but I did it. And I was excited to be a hostess in an upscale club. I would meet rich and interesting people, and people who were on holiday and just wanted to unwind and play games like baccarat. It sounded so fun and exciting.
But from the moment I arrived I knew something was off. The “upscale club” was high-stakes poker, played in a dark, dirty basement on the outside of town. I served vodka to high-level Russian mafia bosses while they drank and smoked the night away.
I just reminded myself it was only six months and the money I would make would help my family back home.
I didn’t even make it a week.
The third night on the job someone from a rival group threw gasoline all around the building and then threw a match on it. Next thing I knew we were being pulled out by firemen and that’s how I met Isaac.
He was kind to me and asked me a few questions about what happened. When I told him what was going on, his jaw hit the floor. Apparently no one had any idea such activities were going on inside of this building. Next thing I knew I was being asked to testify against these men.
But that wasn’t the only thing I was asked to do. Isaac asked if I could pretend to be his wife for the rest of the time I was here.
I had no job, and my visa didn’t allow me to find another one. I was only allowed to do the job I came for, which no longer existed. And to make matters worse, even from thousands of miles away, my mother was still asking me when I was going to get married. When I left she didn’t even own a mobile phone. The moment I arrived she was texting me to look my best and to smile at all the successful men I passed.
Isaac’s offer was the best I could do. He said he would get more money if he became fire chief, and he would give me five thousand dollars if he won. That was more money than I would have put in my pocket for my original six months of employment so I agreed, and next thing I know here I am pretending to be his wife.
Being that I’m from Ukraine, the idea of working undercover was too hard to resist. It was just like those Hollywood movies where deadly Eastern European or Russian women infiltrate American society and report the secrets they uncover back to the motherland. But I wasn’t a spy. I was just interested in seeing how the culture worked and to have a little fun while doing so.
I Americanized my name from Yulia to Julia and we prepared to play the game.
“Oh sorry,” Fred says. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
Just be friendly, and always appear that everything is perfect. Isaac repeated those words on the drive over, and I was already forgetting.
“It’s a commonly held belief. And Ukraine does translate to the word borderland, which of course refers to the border with Russia. So I guess you’re actually right,” I say, adding emphasis at the end.
“I knew I had a talent for geography!” Fred says. I can see he is the kind of man who is the life of the party. The one everyone likes. “Just don’t go telling me about Georgia and Hungary…that’s where I really start to get confused.”
“Why is that—“
“Julia, I’d like you to meet Georgia,” Fred says, introducing me to the woman who has just come up from behind him. “My wife.”
“Nice to meet you, Julia. Fred tells me you’re from Russia.”
“Yes!” I say, and I feel Isaac’s grip relax. I must be getting the hang of this.
Georgia turns to Fred. “Hungry dear?”
I squeeze my face as hard as I can, trying not to laugh. Now I know what Fred meant.
“See what I mean?” he says turning to me. He laughs immediately and you can feel the depth of his tone fill the entire room, which is not a small feat considering the number of guests that are here.
“We’ll be back,” he says, and Fred and Georgia take off after a caterer holding a tray of absolutely mouth-watering appetizers.
I lean into Isaac, my mouth less than an inch from his ear.
I hadn’t noticed it before, as I guess there was really no reason or no need, but he has very cute ears. I inhale, as I prepare to whisper into one of those ears of his, and I catch a whiff of his scent. I hadn’t noticed it in the drive over. What is that? He smells like the forest in autumn…like wood chips on the floor of the garage in my grandfather’s dacha, or summer home, where he built things when I was a little girl.
I look at Isaac’s eyes. From the side you can almost see through them. It’s a big contrast from the almost black shade of his eyes that you seen when you’re looking right at him. I like the color. It matches the uniform he’s wearing.
If there’s one thing that’s universal, it’s a woman’s appreciation for a man in uniform. In my country girls practically fall over themselves for such a man. I guess here it’s no different. As much as this country I find myself in is different, I am starting to notice it’s more and more like home. No one would believe me if I said such a thing, but it’s true.
“Am I doing—“
I feel Isaac’s grip tighten again and suddenly we’re moving forward.
“I need a drink,” he says.
“Is everything okay?” I ask trying to match his speed as he moves toward the bar.
“You can’t ask me how you’re doing. Someone might hear. Someone might figure us out.”
“Oh,” I say. “I thought I could just whisper—“
“You can’t, Julia. No-one can know,” he says, suddenly stopping as he turns to look at me.
Those dark eyes of his find mine, and then start moving up and down and side-to-side as he surveys my face. It’s like he’s trying to remember it in case he has to draw it later, for a police sketch or something.
Suddenly his eyes move down to my chest and then back up. He got this dress for me, which is bright red and shows off a lot of cleavage. He wanted everyone to see us, he said on the drive over. Everyone had to know we were together. It was part of his plan.
But what wasn’t part of his plan was the way he looks in that uniform and how it’s making me feel. How he grabs my hand tightly and claims me, or is he just telling me I’m out of line? I’m confused.
“No-one can know that this isn’t real,” he says, finishing his sentence this time.
“Of course not,” I say. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”
And I don’t. But by trouble I mean any trouble for what we’re doing. I’m not talking about actually developing any sort of feelings for this guy. That’s a whole separate kind of trouble that will never happen. I mean, how could I feel for someone who I’m just playing a game with? It’s just pretend like when I was a little girl playing with dolls. It’s not real.
The way he just checked out my breasts isn’t real. The way he seems uneasy at the other men looking at me…not real either. And the way he’s holding my gaze right now, as if we’re the only two people in the room…definitely not real.
It’s just a game after all. A game and nothing more. But we have a proverb where I am from…appetite comes from eating.
And by the way he’s looking at me in my dress right now, he’s thinks I’m a juicy red delicious apple and he wants to take a bite.