16. Elanee
16
ELANEE
M itch holds up the elegant gold dress that crosses across my shoulders with matching heels. It appears to be perfectly fitted to my size and shape. The heels, however, I’ll be throwing into the first fire I see, and I’ll indefinitely be opting to wear my sisters black boots even if it’s not the first choice for the dress.
“Oooh girl. That dress is everything!” Mitch announces. “Isn’t it, ladies?” The women nod enthusiastically in agreement.
I’d had not only a massage, style, and trim but hours of ‘girlish chatter,’ and it felt strange but reenergizing all the same.
Dmitri, although having no intention of being part of it, hasn’t been any more than a few meters away and has been staring at me the whole time like I might go up in smoke.
“Sit. Sit,” Mitch insists in the chamber-like bedroom. I feel like a Greek goddess in a temple.
I was uncomfortable at first, especially when it came to the massage. I struggled to keep my eyes closed when they’d offered the massage because I was too scared of… well anything happening with my back exposed.
Dmitri had taken my hand and lazily sat by my side, reading a book with one leg crossed over the other throughout the entire massage. Despite giving me shit for wearing my slippers even in a massage, it was enough for me to ease into it, to know that I was safe beside him. Even if for a pocket of time. But my mind couldn’t stop racing, wondering about my sister and how she was going at the wedding.
I felt guilty for not doing my job, but my heart also fluttered with the concept and hope of genuine, breathing freedom.
Mitch lined up different lipstick colors, thoughtfully deciding which would go best.
One of the ladies brings over a bucket of ice with a bottle of chilled champagne in it and pours me a glass. “Will you four not have one?”
Mitch pulls a face. “Girl, we’re on the job; stop being a bad influence.”
“I don’t mind.” And I don’t know why, but I almost sound desperate. Is it because it’d been so long since I’d had any type of companionship or friendship? The first two years in Russia felt normal, getting ready with the girls, having fun, and partying, but over time, it dwindled into darkness and isolation.
“My wife prefers the tipsy type of company,” Dmitri announces as he flicks over another page without looking up.
Mitch seems confused but then casually shrugs his shoulders. “Okay, queens. Let’s have a drink.”
Five glasses are poured, and they mischievously look at one another as they take a sip. One of the women opens a box from the bathroom and gasps. We all look in her direction.
“Oh my gosh! Look at how beautiful this is!” One of the women announces. An ivory lingerie set glistens as she holds it up. The bra and G-string have intricate black lacing. “Oooh, and a special little toy.”
Heat scorches my cheeks as she raises the boxed vibrator.
“Your husband has exquisite taste,” Mitch whispers into my ear. I pointedly glare in Dmitri’s direction, who flips over to another page, but I know he’s intently listening.
It takes me back to my college years. He’d always purchased lingerie sets to get under my skin. He’d break into my room to leave them, just so I knew he’d yet again breached my boundaries. It got to the point where my roommate just opened the door and let him in when she was there.
But surely, he didn’t expect anything of me tonight, right? We’d never crossed that line. Guilt is a tight vice around me. I made sure of that.
“Well, cheers! To a happy ever after!” Mitch announces. I hesitate to clank my glass against theirs as if it’s a bad omen. Is it really okay for me to wish something like that?
When I look in Dmitri’s direction, I realize this time, he’s watching as I slowly clink my glass with theirs.
Perhaps not so much happily ever after, but I was grateful for those who continued fighting for me.
And I tried not to remind myself of the cliff edge we were undoubtedly closing in on.