“You mean, actually be married?”

  Sergey nods. “You give me three dates to convince you that we stand a chance to make this work. If you think it's hopeless after that, we'll get divorced and I'll handle talking to our parents.”

  “Okay.” What do I have to lose with three little dates? Plus, when it does fall apart completely, I don't have to deal with the aftermath. No one can blame me, because I’m certain our parents will find a way to put this all on me. It’s me who is the troublemaker. It’s me who won’t listen and do what is supposedly my “duty.” But if Sergey fights back for me, with me? It’s totally different for them. This seems like the perfect out.

  He nods, satisfied. “This is good. Thank you. I've missed home cooking; I try to go over to Scotty's every so often so they can feed me something good.”

  That doesn't surprise me. One of Sergey's favorite things is food, but only if it's made at home. That is something his mother stressed to me in her efforts to make me her son’s perfect wife. What a lost cause that was. I finish eating in silence, fatigue wearing me down with every bite. But still, I stand to wash the dishes once I’m finished.

  “Galina, leave them.”

  He doesn't have to convince me, especially when I'm so tired. “I think I want some sleep. I hope it's okay that I unpacked.”

  Sergey nods. “You are free to make this your home. You can have the bed, too.”

  With a quick nod, I put some space between us to find something to change into and get ready for bed. A few minutes later, I crawl between his soft sheets. Sergey is putting dishes away, causing me to sigh with relief. Maybe I can fall asleep quickly. The ridiculous nerves of the situation prevent me from falling asleep as fast as I want, though. I lie awake long enough to hear Sergey get ready for bed.

  He stands on the other side, curses, and then swipes a pillow. His footsteps move away from the bed and the next rustling I hear sounds as if he's making a bed for himself on the couch.

  “Galina?” Sergey whispers after a bit.

  “Yeah?”

  “This is awkward, yes?”

  With a little laugh, I confirm.

  “You must have hope this will work out as it should. I know how you like to be a pessimist.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. He's not wrong. I'm not even a glass half empty kind of girl. I'm more of a the glass is broken with water spilling everywhere kind of girl. That’s just what my life has turned me into ever since my teenage years.

  “Good night.”

  “Good night, Sergey.” I close my eyes, relaxing. Sergey said he'd take me on three dates to convince me we can make this work. I honestly don't know how I feel about that, but it ultimately feels as if it'll be my ticket out of this mess. I keep reminding myself of that. Hope blossoms within for the first time in years at the thought of a resolution, allowing me to fall asleep.

  When I awake in the morning, I sit up in time to see Sergey doing the same. The deal we've made is heavy on my mind already.

  “Why do you want to do this?” I ask with curiosity. We've been married since we were seventeen, and now we’re twenty-six. All these years, we've lived apart. “Why should we try to make it work?” My eyes fall to his bare chest, landing on his wedding band. The sight does funny things to me, things I don’t understand.

  “People want to know where my wife is when they see it, so I stopped wearing it so I can stop answering that question,” he says instead. I can't believe he ever wore it at all, or even long enough that people around him asked questions about it. But then, Sergey did always seem the honorable type. “I know you don't like the decisions our parents made for us, but we ultimately agreed. I wouldn't feel right about divorcing if we didn't at least give it a fair chance.”

  I nod in agreement about giving it a fair chance, but I’m tempted to argue because I did not agree to this marriage in the first place. No one asked if this was what I wanted. No one cared.

  “I have to go work out. We'll talk more when I get back.”

  I watch him stand and disappear into the bathroom; a few minutes later, he leaves. Sergey is gone longer than I expect and at some point, it's just time to get out of bed to work. I am a full-time instructor at a university. I do very well for myself.

  I'm grading assignments when Sergey returns.

  “Working?” he asks when he sees me on my computer.

  “Yeah.”

  “How has work been? My mother mentioned you were a teacher for a university now.”

  “Pretty busy.”

  He takes a seat next to me. “I'm proud of you,” he says.

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  “I should shower.” He stands, but then turns to face me. “First date is tomorrow. We're also going to a team party this weekend.”

  “I have to go?” I was hoping to avoid that for as long as possible, especially after Sergey said no one knows about me. As rightly so as that may be, it will make things awkward.

  “Yes.” He doesn't give me room to argue; he turns on his heels and stalks to the bathroom like a man on a mission.

  Well, that's that, I guess.

  Three

  Sergey

  Having Galina here is going about like I expected. Things are weird and it's almost as if we're walking on eggshells at times. It feels as if there's an ominous cloud in the room, following us wherever we go. There's more we should discuss, like how this living arrangement will truly work, but we're avoiding it. We're coexisting for the moment.

  Today, we go on our date. I'm about as nervous as I was on our very first parent-forced date. I was nervous, but she was extremely annoyed back then.

  We're quiet as we get ready, not dressing particularly nice, as we don't need to for this date.

  “What kind of place is this?” Galina asks as we arrive at the restaurant.

  “We're embracing the Southern cuisine.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me, but says nothing. There's a reason for this, but I don't want to divulge it yet. My idea seems even more ridiculous than when I first thought of it. Maybe I should grant her the divorce instead of doing this.

  “This feels a little like our first date all over again,” Galina says with a small laugh after the waitress takes our drink orders.

  I nod in agreement.

  “Sergey.” I glance up, hearing the nervousness in her tone. “There's a man who keeps looking at us with this cheesy grin.”

  And the jig is up. I look over my shoulder where her gaze rests, but I already know what I'll find. “That's Marco and his wife, Lizzy,” I say as I turn to wave at them. “They are our supervision; this is Lizzy's favorite restaurant. They picked it for us.” I wait to see if she'll grasp the meaning behind all of that.

  Her eyes widen. “This is like our first date.” She laughs. “Are you going to be polite and try not to like me because you're upset our parents set us up on a date?”

  I smile. When our parents arranged for us to go on a date together, I pretended to dislike the idea once I realized Galina wasn’t pleased. Her mom sent us to her favorite restaurant, where my parents sat nearby to watch us and make sure we both behaved. “I'll behave.”

  “How come you chose them and not Scott?” she asks.

  “They have twin babies; I figured they could use the night out more than Scott and Sylvia.”

  Galina nods in understanding. We take some time to look over the menu and I laugh when Galina asks what a hushpuppy is. Eating over at Scotty's, who is originally from the area, means I'm well-versed in the local foods. It might be best if I order for her, so I do with her permission.

  “How are your parents?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “They stopped talking to me about three years ago because they said I was being stubborn. They couldn't understand why I was still separated from you and they were very frustrated.”

  My eyes widen. I did not know this. But Galina said she was still being pressured, which can only mean one thing. “So it is my parents who are hounding you then?”

  Galina nods. “But I know my parents are behind it as well.”

  “I'm sorry. I will talk to them.” There’s no reason for them to bother her. While they are the reason we are together, we’re adults and they need to stay out of our business, what little of it we have.

  She waves her hand at my offer. “It's too late for that now. I'm already here. Once we figure out what we’re doing, then you can talk to them and get everyone off my back.”

  The waitress breaks the slight tension by dropping a basket of hushpuppies on the table with our drinks. She gives us an update on how much longer it'll be until our food will be here and then off she goes again. I push the basket toward Galina.

  “Try them.” We already smelled butter and grease, but now we get the addition of both of those combined with a oniony, bready mix as the hushpuppies join us. “You can dip in the butter too,” I tell her as she hesitantly picks one up, examining it.

  She decides against the butter. Galina takes a small bite, nods her head, and pops the rest into her mouth.

  “I want you to look a new place for us to live.”

  “Sergey,” she starts, and I can hear the protest already.

  “The season will start soon and I can't afford to continue sleeping on the couch. Plus, you deserve better.” Even if she’s here for only a short time, we should still do this. It’s not going to matter to me if I upgrade my living arrangements and it’s still just me; it’ll be worth it for something that better suits Galina for the time being and so I won’t have to resort to sleeping on my couch.

  Galina stares at me for a moment. “We're adults. We can share until we figure out what we're doing; or I can sleep on the couch.”

  I don’t like that idea. However, there's only so much one can push Galina; I'll accept this for now. “How much are you dreading the party this weekend?”

  Galina groans, which makes me laugh. “More than you can imagine. Most people don't even know you have a wife and now you're showing up with someone who isn't really your wife. It sounds like there will be so much focus on us.”

  “The good news is that the person who would annoy us the most already knows. But if we're going to do this, then it's time we do things together.” Even if we won’t be together for long.

  “Why?” she asks. “Your mom says you hate team parties and unless it was stressed you had to be there, you didn't go.”

  True. I wasn't much of a teammate before compared to the way things are run here, but things are different now. “I like this team.” I may not be expressive about it, but I do like them. “They invite me, I go.”

  Galina sighs. “What is the party for?”

  “It's just a party. Anyone who is in town was invited. Something to get everyone together. Let the kids have some fun.” I shrug. “Someone was bored and wanted to throw a party.” As far as I can tell, there's no actual reason for us to get together.

  “What have you been doing with your time?” she asks about halfway through our meal.

  I relax with her question. “Hockey. Getting teammates to feed me. I hang out at Scotty's a lot and spend time with his kids. He has two twin girls and a baby boy. I teach the girls Russian and about Russia. Since the baby can't talk, I tell him things.”

  Galina opens her mouth, but she doesn't get a chance to speak before Marco and Lizzy walk up to our table.

  “Supervision time is over; Elizabeth is anxious to get home to the babies.” He looks at Galina. “Did he tell you I delivered them?” I swear his chest puffs out.

  Lizzy laughs and shakes her head. “No one cares but you, Marc. Thanks for helping us get a little break, Serge. We'll see you this weekend, right?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  They say their goodbyes and Lizzy drags Marco away before he can get distracted by talking some more. Galina looks at me once they've walked away. “You like kids?” she asks with a puzzled look.

  “Yes. At some point, I'd want one of my own. Don't you?”

  She nods. “But I've wasted a lot of time. Part of me feels too old.”

  I laugh. “You are not old, Galina.”

  She shrugs her shoulders and that seems to be that. Food has slowly disappeared from both of our plates. The waitress stops by to take my card and this nagging question, which has no right, simply refuses to leave my mind.

  “Can I ask you something?” I finally ask.

  Again, she shrugs as she takes another long pull on her straw.

  “How long was the affair?”

  Galina chokes slightly. She sputters before clearing her throat, looking at me with wild eyes. “Affair?” A string of fast, nasty Russian curses spews from her mouth to assault my ears as she stands. The scraping of her chair as she stands is loud, even in the busy restaurant. “You bastard!” she breathes, her chest heaving. “Accusing me of such a thing.” Galina flings her napkin on the table with a flair of dramatics. “Go to hell.”

  “Galina!” I shout as she storms toward the exit. Just as I scan the room for the waitress, I find her hurrying my way with my card. I snatch it, mutter a thanks, and run after Galina. Where she thinks she's going, I'm not sure. She's trying to cross the street it seems. Running faster, I try to catch her. Affair wasn't the best choice of words, but it was the only one coursing through my mind.

  The sound of a rumbling engine hits me first. And then I see the car from the corner of my eye. Galina doesn't appear to be paying attention, wrapped so much in her anger.

  “Galina!” I shout again. I push my legs harder. Relief fills me as I reach out to wrap my fingers around her wrist and then yank her back to me. The car speeds past us as if we're not even standing here and as if they didn't almost run her over. “You okay?” I ask, turning her to face me.

  “I'm fine!” she snaps, wiggling out of my hold. “Are you telling me you haven't been with anyone else, Sergey? Truly? No one? No one at all? Not even once?”

  My hands fall to my sides. I slowly shake my head. Her eyes widen as it sinks in. “But we were only seventeen. Are you... Does that mean you're a...”

  I laugh, realizing what she's asking. “I haven't been with anyone since we got married.” My smile falls away. “Whether you were here or not, temptations or not, I couldn't break those vows.” There have been many times I've thought about it. Many, many times. Nine years is a long time. I've been on the precipice of breaking those vows, but then it's like a stone wall falls down before me as quickly as the urge came to be. Reality hits and it's as if the woman’s face morphs into Galina's. I simply can't do it, knowing it isn’t actually her in front of me. Many times, it has felt like a curse.

  Galina takes another step back with her disbelief. She stumbles as her foot slips off the curb. Like a snake striking its prey, my hand reaches out and I pull her back to me. She steadies, but only because she's leaning against me. Galina stares at me for a moment. Her eyes narrow, crinkling at the corners.

  “How do I know you aren't lying?”

  Something within me snaps. Perhaps it’s the nine years of abstinence. Nine years of waiting around on a woman who never wanted to come around anyway. Nine years of doing what was right. And she has the gall to question me? Question my faithfulness? Question my honesty?

  Who the fuck does she think she is?

  I drop my hold, step backward, and she nearly falls as she was still on the edge of the curb.

  “Find your own way home.” Turning on my heels, I storm off to my SUV. I have done nothing to cause her to doubt me. Never have I lied to her. I haven't been given many opportunities, but still. Fury bubbles within me that she would question me. Leaving Galina at the restaurant feels wrong and irresponsible, but she's a big girl.

  In actuality, I make it half a mile before turning around. I park nearby to spy on Galina. She's standing close to the curb still, waiting. Anger over her insinuating I was lying pulses through my veins enough that I don't go get her. Instead, I wait and watch. A few minutes pass and a car pulls up. She gets in and I follow behind. Pissed off or not, I can still make sure she finds her way back safely.

  If this is how date one went, I have no idea how we're going to make it through two more. Maybe she was right all along and we should get a divorce.

  Four

  Galina

  “This is good news, yes? You are living with Sergey, so now your marriage can continue. You two can reconnect and finally have children.”

  Why did I answer the phone call from his mother? It's hard not to, honestly. Partly out of respect to them and partly because it's not like I would be ignoring my own parents. I'm ignoring someone else's parents and that seems to take the level of wrongness to, well, another level. Or maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.

  “Actually, we're contemplating divorce.”

  The gasp she makes is so loud and startled that I feel horrible. I'm probably about to give the poor woman a heart attack.

  “You can't do that! You two were meant for one another!”

  Are we, though? Would it really be the worst thing in the world if Sergey and I finally went our separate ways to forge our own paths in life? I don’t think it would. Hell, I’ve been trying to do that for years already, but you can’t really move forward when something like this is following you around ever so closely.

  “Mrs. Orlovsky, please,” I say just as Sergey walks in the door. His entire expression hardens at immediately realizing I'm on the phone with his mother. He storms over to where I sit at the bar, plucks the phone from my hand, and shocks me as much as I just shocked his mother. In our native language, he berates his mother so fluently and strongly that it overwhelms me.

  And turns me on?

  I shake my head to shoo those thoughts away. Sure, he said he would handle his parents, mine too if needed, but I never thought he actually would. All these years, no one has bothered standing up for me when I needed help. Why would now be any different?