Birds of Paradise

March 1st, 2013

Birds of Paradise 

March 1st, 2013

  

His name was Callum and he had a British accent.

               She almost hadn’t taken the job. She had barely just moved to Moscow, she felt alone and lost again and the student had asked for a French class. It was going to be the first one she ever gave and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it yet.

               But for some reason she had accepted.

               Callum spoke almost perfect Russian since he had been living in the city for quite a few years, but French was not one of the many languages he mastered. He wanted to change that. Elea happened to be giving French classes now along with English ones. Who would have thought the shy flower girl would be teaching French, of all languages.

               When he had first stepped in the class, she had most changed her mind. Dirty-blond hair, green eyes, taller than Liam, walking in with a smile that showed his dimples, holding his shoulders up. How could she give a class to someone as good looking as him? But she had taken on the challenge.

               Callum’s parents were diplomats and he had been travelling all his life. And he knew Moscow. Without even asking or realizing it, he turned into her personal guide as she became accustomed with the megacity.

               They’d meet at the Red Square and visit the Tretyakov Gallery, they’d walk in the Alexander Gardens and eat at Mayak. He took her to ballet and circus and theatre and opera.

               He didn’t make her laugh the way Liam had, because Liam had made her laugh the way a silly teenage boy makes a lovesick teenage girl laugh.

               Callum made jokes but kept a serious face all the while—his delivery was always spot on. He wrote absolutely ridiculous poems that he was hell bent on serenading to her. He always sang “I believe in a thing called love” by the Darkness while he drove in an impeccable high pitch voice. He hid behind her during scary parts in movies. He never laughed at her awful Russian speaking skills—he always just smiled and encouraged her. He always finished her plate for her when she didn’t eat everything. He smelled insanely good on his own and not with the help of some pricey cologne. He understood when she talked about books she had read—usually he had read most of them, and if he hadn’t he would.

               He made her feel like she was actually worth something. He made her feel like she didn’t have to hide behind anyone or anything. He had enough self-confidence for the both of them. He made her stronger. She could just be herself, even if that meant being shy and quiet or loud and silly.

               “Do you know how to play pool?”

               “Of course not. My brother had a pool table in the basement and he always made me play with him, but no I have no clue how to play.”

               “Good, that way I can have a perfectly agreeable reason to touch you in a sexual matter and say I’m just trying to show you how to play correctly.”

               “Yes, you could do that.”

               “Ya tebya lyublyu.”

               “Je t’aime aussi.”

               After her eight month work contract, she followed him back to London. During some weekends she’d take the train and go back to Paris to meet with her friends there. They’d go on wild trips with no final destination in mind. They saw each other often and Elea was surprise by how much her life had changed ever since she had left her home—home, that was the wrong term. That place where she came from, that wasn’t her home anymore. Her flat with Callum—that was her home. The little cafes her and her friends loved—that was her home. The train, the road, the travel—that was her home now.