Chapter 14 Micah
FOURTEEN
MICAH
I stare at the aquarium in the living room as Ilya feeds the fish. They dart out of their hiding spots to get their food. I marvel all over again at how beautiful it is, so much more than a little bit of sand and a fake sunken ship.
Ilya steps back and smiles at me. “You like my fishes?”
“Very much,” I tell him, glancing at him with a smile of my own before looking back at the fish. I’m entranced by them. “I’ve never seen a real aquarium before. Just those cheesy little fish bowls with a goldfish or something.”
Ilya scowls at that. “Those are bad. Too small for goldfish. Goldfish need at least one hundred liters.” He stops.
“Thirty gallons? I think.” He pulls out his phone and taps at it before he nods.
“Yes. Thirty gallons. Goldfish grow big. Small tanks like that, they hurt fish. But goldfish is better in the pond.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say. “I’ve always seen them given out as prizes for fairs and things. I—”
Ilya is glowering, and I eye him. It isn’t that I expect him to get violent or angry — I don’t — but I don’t want him to get upset with himself later on if he realizes he got too passionate about fish.
“I want to learn more,” I tell him instead, offering my hand to him. “Will you teach me?”
I know how to navigate angry men.
Ilya huffs and nods. “Of course.” He glances at his fish tank again. “I know most people don’t care about fish. But I like them. They are simple creatures, but delicate. It’s important to take good care of them.”
How can a man entrenched in organized crime be so caring about fish, of all things, that most people dismiss as worthless?
It doesn’t surprise me, somehow, that Ilya is as passionate about taking care of fish as he is about taking care of me.
“I’ve never had a pet at all,” I tell him, stepping in close to him and encouraging him to wrap an arm around me. “Not furry ones, not ones with fins.” I smile up at him, though. “But these are so pretty.”
“Thank you.” Ilya points to one fish. “That’s a tetra fish. I bought ten of them, but now I have over thirty. If you give them a good home, they reproduce.”
I study the fish, which is silver with a red swipe along the side. “What other kinds do you have?” I ask. “How do you keep them all straight?”
Ilya lists off a bunch of names, some of them in Russian. There’s no way I’ll remember all that. At least not yet.
If I memorize all these fish, will he trust me more? Will he give me more information about his work that I can pass on to Adam?
My stomach twists.
I don’t like the idea of passing more information to Adam even though I should want to. I should want to make him happy, should want to help him get his promotion, but instead, I’ve found myself learning about a man who loves his aquarium of fish.
I haven’t told Adam about Ilya’s past in Russia even though I think it would help him track down more details about him. It doesn’t feel right to spill the details of a story Ilya had told me in confidence.
Besides, Adam would dismiss the whole situation, like he dismisses the “bullshit domestics.”
I keep asking Ilya questions about the fish, which he answers with passionate authority. I think he knows as much about fish as I do about the cello or more.
Ilya stops talking and looks at me.
“Yes?” I prompt, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Do you want to go to an aquarium? The big one.” Ilya laughs. “There are two in New Bristol. The big one, which is good, and the small one, which should not be allowed.”
“You’d take me somewhere?” I blurt out, unable to hide my surprise. “In public?”
“Why not?” Ilya asks.
Why not?
It had taken Adam a long time to take me anywhere, and even now, we usually go to places where we aren’t likely to be seen.
He doesn’t want to explain why he’s with a man.
I understand it. He’s not out at work. He’s explained that people who are face a lot of discrimination even now, and I don’t want to be the reason he struggles or gets left behind.
But sometimes…
Sometimes, I wish he’d do more than occasionally take me to a restaurant.
My heart drops into my stomach at the reminder of that disastrous evening.
“I’d like that,” I say.
It isn’t like Ilya’s going to hold my hand or kiss me in public. He’s still mafia — bratva — and he wouldn’t want to explain to his men that he’s with me, either.
It still makes me feel warm inside.
“Then let’s go.” Ilya smiles at me. “But we’ll take the train. I don’t want to find parking.”
The idea of Ilya taking public transport is as strange as the idea of Adam taking the train. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and I nod to him. “Okay.” I don’t want to keep bringing Adam up by commenting that he’d never do something like that, but the thought is at the forefront of my mind.
The aquarium is a twenty minute train ride away, and things get more crowded the closer we get. The tourists are out in full force, everybody eager to see the sights the big city has to offer on this nice Saturday morning.
Once we get there, I see why I never thought to come to the aquarium on my own: It’s $40 per person to get in. Ilya pays for both of us without a single complaint about the cost or how these people are scamming us.
“Do you want to start with saltwater or freshwater fish?” Ilya asks, handing me a copy of the brochure. “There’s a tank where you can touch some fish, too, but a lot of children will be there.”
“I don’t mind that,” I tell him, only to tense when I realize he probably does. “But we should probably avoid it.”
I want to touch the fish, though. I want to have that kind of experience.
Ilya gives me a hard look. “You want to touch the fish? Then we go touch fish.”
I flounder for a moment, unsure of what to make of the firm tone in his voice. “Okay,” I say, trying for casual despite the fact that I’m elated.
I get to touch fish.
I get to do something I’ve never done before… and Ilya is at my side.
“Let’s start with that before the place gets overrun with kids,” I suggest, as though it’s not because I’m that excited.
Ilya nods and squeezes my shoulder before leading me toward that hall of the aquarium.
Children are already crowding around it, with an aquarium attendant guiding them on how to touch the fish properly and which fish is what. There’s a large stingray that everybody is eager to get their hands on.
The aquarium attendant sees us and smiles, holding up her hand to signal for us to wait.
“Did you know stingrays have no bones in their body?” the attendant asks. “It’s all cartilage, which is what your ears and nose are made of. But let’s make sure to give everyone a turn.”
The kids whine, and one of the older ones pouts and very pointedly keeps her hand in the tank. She glares at a smaller child trying to squeeze in.
I shift uncomfortably, glancing at Ilya. I expect to see impatience in his expression, but he looks oddly amused by the whole ordeal.
“We don’t have to wait,” I tell him. “It might be a few minutes.”
The attendant tries to sweet-talk the older child, but it doesn’t seem like she’s making much progress. She glances at the girl’s parents, but they aren’t paying much attention to her.
Adam would definitely be pissed by now.
Ilya gets a bit closer to the tank and looks down. “You see the starfish, Mishka? These have eyes on all the arms.”
“Really?” I ask, fascinated as I peer down to see the starfish. “That’s… a little creepy, actually.” I grin at him, though.
The starfish lifts up one of its arms. Does that mean it’s looking at me right now?
“That’s right!” the attendants says. “They have multiple eyes at the tip of each arm, which lets them look around them. But they have poor vision.”
That finally distracts the older girl, who moves over to the sea star. “Where are the eyes? What happens if they lose an arm?”
It gives me an opening to get near the rays, but I have an abrupt moment of doubt before I bring myself to put my hand in the water.
“Is it safe?” I ask Ilya.
It’s a dumb question. If it wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t let kids stick their hands in the tanks and pet them.
But Ilya doesn’t seem mad despite how obvious the answer has to be.
“Yes. But it’s better to pet from head to tail.” Ilya leans down to demonstrate. The ray doesn’t seem to mind, staying in place for the touch.
I muster up the courage to reach down and pet it, and I’m startled by how smooth it is. A swipe in the opposite direction makes it feel more like sandpaper, though, and I’m fascinated by the change.
The attendant, who’s smiling at us, explains that it feels different because of the teeth-like scales on its surface.
The idea that I’m touching something like teeth isn’t exactly comforting, but I cling to the knowledge that I’m doing this anyway.
I’m doing something that scares me, and like with Ilya, it’s proving to be worth it.
I finally withdraw my hand as the stingray darts away, giving a child a chance to step up.
My cheeks hurt from how broadly I’m grinning, and I bump against Ilya’s side. “Thank you,” I tell him.
“Thank you?” Ilya seems puzzled. “For what?”
“For…”
For being patient.
For letting me touch the stingray.
For being caring, and gentle, and treating me like I matter.
“For taking me here,” I settle on.
Ilya smiles widely. “Thank you for coming with me.” He pets my hair. “Come. There are many more fishes to look at.”
We wander through the aquarium, stopping for ages at each tank. Ilya wants to read all the signs, and sometimes he asks me what a word means. He points out some of the fish he has in aquariums at home or work, and I marvel again that he manages to take care of these creatures.
Around noon, Ilya glances at his phone. “Are you hungry? We should take a break. The cafeteria here has good seafood.” He laughs about that. “Should they serve seafood at the aquarium?”
I laugh, too. “I mean, I guess they can get fresh fish easily,” I joke, though I pause, unsure of how he might take it.
He cares a lot about fish, and I eye him sidelong, wary about how he’ll react.
He’d mentioned eating good seafood, so he obviously eats it, but that doesn’t mean the comment will go over well.
“Maybe they serve the fish that died.” Ilya chuckles. “And our leftovers, they can go back to feed other fish.”
“Really?” I ask, unsure of whether he’s messing with me or if that’s something that would really happen.
“No, I’m kidding. If it’s like my restaurant, the uneaten food gets taken by employees or ends up in the trash.”
I huff out another laugh. “I feel gullible right now,” I tell him. “You could be telling me anything and I’d believe it, apparently.”
Adam really would call me stupid.
Ilya gives me a soft smile, and I don’t know what to make of that. Does he agree that I’m stupid? Is he annoyed that I didn’t pick up on his joke immediately?
The cafe is crowded, so Ilya tells me to grab a table while he gets food for us.
While I wait, my phone buzzes.
Doctor
They’re out of crab cake sandwiches. What do you want instead?
I’m about to reply when I see that I have five missed calls from Adam.
It makes my mood plummet.
Micah
You can choose for me. :-)
I stare at my phone after I send the text. I have at least five minutes. I should call Adam. I should tell him what I know — which admittedly isn’t much — and let him work with the information.
I don’t want to.
But I haven’t told him much of anything yet, and he’s getting more and more impatient with every time I put him off.
So I call him, my heart racing as I wait for him to pick up.
“Micah! Are you okay?” Adam asks. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”
The fact that he’s worried makes something in me feel strange. I’d thought he just didn’t care since he was willing to send me into this without experience. “No,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I haven’t called more. I don’t have much time right now.”
“No time? Why not? What’s going on?” The concern in Adam’s voice makes my heart squeeze tight.
“He’s staying close to me today,” I say awkwardly. “But I’ve still been going to his restaurant almost daily. To work.”
“That’s good!” Adam says. “He must be laundering money through that place. If you get a chance, see if you can find out where he keeps the restaurant’s books.”
That sounds dangerous, too dangerous for me, but I reply, “Okay.” I can at least try, though I doubt they’re somewhere I could easily find. Ilya isn’t the type of person to be careless with records like that.
“He’s not making you do anything too horrible, right?” Adam asks. He laughs quietly. “Sorry you have to look at his gross cock. But I know you can handle it.”
Ilya’s cock is far from gross, but I’m not going to say that.
Besides, I care more that Adam has faith in me.
He’s never had faith in me before, so it’s a strange sensation, and it makes butterflies flutter in my stomach. “I can,” I tell him firmly. “I’ll have more for you soon, okay?”
The butterflies turn into balls of lead as I think about what that means for me and Ilya, but I’ve always known there’s no future there.
“Thank you, babe. I love you,” Adam says softly, almost a whisper. I wonder if there’s somebody nearby, somebody he doesn’t want overhearing.
“I love you too,” I say just as quietly. I see Ilya returning with a tray, and I hurry to say, “I have to go. Talk soon.” I end the call and put my phone down onto the table, hoping that Ilya didn’t see me on the phone at all.
I don’t want to try to explain who I was talking to.
“There was a man trying to haggle with the cashier,” Ilya complains as he sets the tray down.
“Over five dollars! The poor cashier kept telling him, she has no control over prices, but he didn’t listen.
” Ilya shakes his head and moves one of the plates closer to me.
“If you don’t like that one, you can try mine. ”
Haggling with the cashier sounds like something Adam would do.
“I’m sure it’s good,” I reassure him, trying to ignore the way my entire body is responding to the whole conversation with Adam with anxiety and trepidation along with a strange sense of pride that makes no sense with the rest.
Ilya’s brow furrows. “Is everything all right? Did somebody bother you?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
Shit.
I need to get better about lying. I’ve never done it much; it wouldn’t be worth it if Adam figured it out.
But with Ilya, I don’t have a choice.
I wish that didn’t make me so sad.
I eat the fried fish sandwich he’d gotten me, but it’s tasteless.
Ilya talks animatedly to me about one of the exhibits, but I’m barely able to pay attention to that, either.
I wish this hadn’t gotten so much more difficult.
I wish I didn’t like Ilya as much as I do.
I wish Adam hadn’t sounded like he cared.
But I can’t escape the truth, no matter how hard I try.