Red Russian

When you decided not to leave with the others, hope swelled in my heart. Would you really stay?
I tried to deny it. This must be a dream. Too good to be true.
But I could take care of you. I could mentor you and this euphoria could last beyond the summer.
I would take you in as my own; a stray from another country, another culture.
You would continue to be my source of comfort and joy.
You weren't supposed to impact my life so. But you did. And now, you were staying. Really staying! Really staying?
You weren't specific.
Would you really be my girl for a semester? Would you really enroll in the local university and live with me? You said that's what you wanted more than anything.
I got you an eye appointment but the doctor friend of mine was out. You were disappointed because you were leaving town to be with friends for a week.
I couldn't figure out why you were so disappointed, since we could reschedule.
You indicated you didn't know when you would return, or if.
My throat went dry. My head spun. My carefully laid plans, hopes and desires were dashed.
You were leaving. Not the country, but the area. You were going to Chicago to see him, but not to visit. To live with him.
You told me you wanted to heal. To not be with boys like that anymore. That you would let your mind and your body heal. That you would make decisions based on wisdom unincumbered by outside pressures from poor choices.
You didn't love him. Why did you want to abandon us for him?
You left. You came back. My heart skipped, afraid. Would you stay?
I tried not to let it show. But it bothered me you were leaving again.
You came back a second time. Another fluke. Or was it fate?
Would you stay after all? Was God telling you to be with me and be safe?
You left again. You didn't give me any time alone to say goodbye the way I'd hoped.
You went to Chicago. You didn't like it. You missed me and you missed being here.
Then you left again. Not for home, but you went to Miami. With him.
So far away. Anger. Rage. Jealousy.
I couldn't think. I let you have it. I wanted to scream. I think I did.

You didn't come back. You stayed. Far away, yet still in my country, though barely. Not legal, no money, living with a boy you didn't love and not with a man you did love.
I couldn't face it. I stopped trying to relive the past. Then I had an idea. I would visit you there, in far away Miami.
I did. It was joyous. He was there, of course, pretending all was well. I knew better. You knew better. But with him, we couldn't be honest with each other. Alone, together, we shared. I talked. You listened.
Then you agreed with me. I wanted you to stop this nonsense with him and come back to me. But you stayed. I left.
Then something weird. I came back. A fluke. Or was it fate?
We talked again. We continued long discussions of importance. We loved and lived again.
Then, I left again. You loved me. I loved you. But we still live apart.
We still have so many miles between us. We still don't share life the same way we did in the summer.
I still miss you. I still want you to live with me. I still hope.