“I can’t make it to the doctor’s appointment on Friday,” Igor said, later that night when they were in bed together.
“Why?”
“Business meeting. Can’t get out of it.”
“We’ll reschedule,” she said.
“All right.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. But, you have to do what you have to do, right?”
He’d give anything in the world to be able to share his burdensome thoughts with his wife, but he wouldn’t bring her down too. She didn’t need to worry about anything except carrying Olga to term. They’d be afraid in the coming months. Igor wouldn’t breathe easily until they held a healthy baby in their arms. And then he’d worry for an entirely new set of reasons: parenthood.
“Play us something,” she said.
“Hmm?” he asked in distraction.
“Play us something. Me and the baby.”
“Does the baby even have ears yet?” Igor asked with a smile.
“Who cares? You’re fidgeting. Play us something beautiful.”
He climbed out of bed and went to retrieve his viola from the closet. He brought it back into the bedroom, unsnapped the case, and drew out the instrument. Placing it against his shoulder, he tuned the strings and then began to play. The song was a joyful one, and no one was more surprised than Igor. At the end, Maryruth clapped and demanded another. Igor played for an hour straight and when he was finished, he got back into bed, exhausted.
“That was your plan all along,” he said, eyes closing.
She pressed her front to his back and spooned him. “Maybe.”
“You know me, don’t you?”
“Perhaps.” Her lips brushed across his neck. “Go to sleep, Igor.”
He fell into a deep sleep and woke up to Maryruth on top of him, kissing him awake. She was painted gold in the early morning light, her hair bright and shimmering.
Igor caressed her curves, lingering on the parts of her body that would one day soon show the life growing inside her. But she was still lean and slim, full of supple grace.
“I love you,” she whispered, leaning over him.
His lips captured a nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth. Her moans of pleasure intensified his, and soon they were slick with sweat—wet heat, caught up in each other and the moment.
Maryruth collapsed on top of him. They both were breathing hard, and he heard her chuckle in his ear.
“What?” he asked, pleased at her amusement.
“I don’t know. I just had this thought about one day giving Olga the birds and the bees talk and then I thought about what it’s called in Russian.”
It was his turn to chuckle. His hand stroked up and down her back.
“What is it called in Russian?” she wondered aloud.
“The birds and the bees. With a thicker accent.”
She pinched his side. “So insolent.”
“You find me charming. Admit it.”
Maryruth sat up but didn’t climb off him. “I do. I did. I hated you for it—when we first met.”
“Things change, yes?”
She traced his bottom lip with her finger. “Yes. Yes, they do.”
The first time Maryruth had morning sickness, he had to leave and go to a meeting with his bastard of a father.
Igor felt like an ass.
She clutched the can of Ginger Ale as she watched him from the confines of the bed. “Not that one,” she said as he picked up a three-piece gray suit. “Wear black.”
“Why? I never wear my black suit.”
“Black is a power color. I feel like you need to have that on your side today.”
“You don’t even know what the meeting is about,” he pointed out.
“Black suit. White shirt. Black tie. Trust me.”
He took her word for it. Fifteen minutes later, he presented himself to her. She nodded her approval.
“Hot,” she claimed. “Ridiculously hot.”
He laughed and then leaned over to kiss her. “Dinner tonight. Just you and me.”
“And then the doctor tomorrow morning,” she reminded him.
“Right.” The doctor’s office wasn’t normally open on a Saturday, but Igor had made a call and that had been that. “Can’t wait.”
He kissed her again. “Take it easy today, yes?”
She nodded. “As soon as I stop throwing up, I’m going up to the roof.”
“To garden?”
“No. Sketch, I think.”
“Love you,” he said, heading out of the bedroom.
“Love you!” she called back.
He headed out onto the Manhattan streets, focusing his mind on the coming meeting. He had to sit next to Olaf and pretend they were a united front. He climbed into his car and told his driver the address of the meeting.
Thirty minutes later, Igor was in Greenpoint and pulling up outside the travel agency. He got out of the car and looked around for Olaf’s driver, but didn’t see the car or the burly man who accompanied his father everywhere.
His phone chimed. Thinking it was Maryruth, he pulled it out with a smile. He frowned when he saw that it was from Olaf.
Meeting’s been canceled.
With a sigh of frustration, Igor put his phone back in his pocket.
His phone chimed again.
This time it was Maryruth. It was a selfie of her up on the roof, big black sunglasses shading her eyes, a can of Ginger Ale in one hand. Just as he was about to tell his driver to turn around and take him back to the city, there was a light tap on his window. He rolled it down.
Aleksy Kowal’s face filled the open window. He smiled. “Right on time.”
Igor frowned. “Olaf told me the meeting was canceled.”
“Yes. I know.”
“What’s going on?”
“Come inside the travel agency and I’ll tell you.”