Made in Russia

Chapter Two: Annabelle and Miriam

Chapter Two: Annabelle and Miriam

***

No, no; for my virginity,

When I lose that, says Rose, I'll die:

Behind the elms, last night, cried Dick,

Rose, were you not extremely sick?

For the second night in a row, I am unable to fall asleep. This time, however, my rationale is much more plausible. I get to see my Maya tomorrow. I'm too excited to allow such a trivial thing as sleep distract me.

I make it a priority to bring Maya a gift whenever I visit her, which is generally once a week. Usually, I bring her candy. This time, a stuffed giraffe will suffice. Courtesy of the twenty four hour drug store down the street.

Now, it's nearly 3:00 AM and I sit in the same place that I sat yesterday. My treasured book lies open and exposed before me, luring me to come and discover what perplexities lie in store for me tonight.

A curious and most puzzling question might be started concerning this visual matter as touching the Leviathan. But I must be content with a hint. So long as a man's eyes are open in the light, the act of seeing is involuntary; that is, he cannot then help mechanically seeing whatever objects are before him. Nevertheless, any one's experience will teach him, that though he can take in an undiscriminating sweep of things at one glance, it is quite impossible for him, attentively, and completely, to examine any two things-however large or however small-at one and the same instant of time; never mind if they lie side by side and touch each other. But if you now come to separate these two objects, and surround each by a circle of profound darkness; then, in order to see one of them, in such a manner as to ring your mind to bear on it, the other will be utterly excluded from your contemporary consciousness.

My heart racing, I slide the book away from me.

Its astonishing. How mere words can send chills down my spine. Cause my blood to run cold.

Fo the life of me, I can't imagine another person interpreting Melville's words the way that I do. Not Yuri, who is too caught up in fear to enjoy the world. Not Tate, whose only concern is going to college. Certainly not the egotistical vainglorious money crazed Landon Dempsey.

I glance over at Yuri. He stares up at the ceiling.

"Yuri?"

It seems like hours before he answers me.

"Yeah?"

I turn into my side. "How are you?"

"What do you mean?"

I shrug, even though I know that he isn't looking at me. "I don't really get to see you very much."

"I know," he whispers.

We fall into silence.

"How's Maya?" he asks me. "I haven't found the time to visit her in a while."

I bite my bottom lip hard to keep from screaming. Warm blood fills my mouth.

"She's fine," I say. "No news."

"I guess that's a good sign."

"I guess."

I hear Yuri get up. Leave the room. "I have a day off coming up soon," he calls from the kitchen. "Next Wednesday."

"Stop by Donny's," I call back. "I'll make you your favorite."

He pauses in his refrigerator raid. "Pepperoni?"