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"Okay. It's a date then."
W-What?! Oh no… Why would I say that? So sudden, way too sudden!
Ira snaps away like a bolt of lightning, turning heel and blitzing down the hall with her hands stuffed into her apron. But I’m still looming like a storm cloud; my mouth is pursed—small and tight.
Wait.
Why isn’t my mouth open?
Wait.
Did she say that?
Ira?
Ira Grachevskaya?
The same Ira who threw a chair?
I immediately begin shaking my head, attempting to knock some decorum into myself. I know she hates when people bring up the chair thing, I know! I’m really, really, sorry for bringing it up. I'll keep shaking until a headache clears it out.
…
…
…
Ack! I can’t! Even though she’d hate me for thinking about it, I’m always thinking about it. Just like I’m always thinking of when she threatened Garin with that compass.
Double bad! Is that all I remember about Ira? The times she was violent!? That's no good! No good at all! Ira isn't a delinquent like everyone says.
Well, maybe that’s not strictly true academically, but that's not fair! It's not like anyone else has good grades—most of the boys cheat off of me, after all. And yeah, she did throw that chair, but-
She wouldn’t hurt anyone! That’s the point. That’s why I'm sure I misheard her somehow. Ira wouldn’t pull a cruel prank on me like that.
Part of me wants to follow after her and ask her to repeat what she said, but every other part of me knows that would be stupid. What would I even say?
“I’m sorry, I know I misheard you, but I need to make you repeat yourself for no reason!”
“I’m sorry my words came out of your mouth!”
HUH?!
No, hold on.
My words? Why would those be my words?
It’s not like I wanted to ask Ira out on a date. She deserves way better than that. A good date, that’s like. Cocoa, and movies, and cuddling. You can’t do that stuff with another girl, much less a girl like me. Especially since dates usually end with a-
Aw geez. My cheeks are definitely red for real now. I can feel the heat prickling through my face, warding off the sharp breeze that rattles through the distant slats.
There I go again. Even though it wouldn’t work out, I’m imagining Ira doing that stuff with me, instead of a guy. How selfish can I be?
My head starts shaking slower and slower until it reaches a standstill. The lights are a little sharper, and I can feel the thoughts swimming in my head-- I’ll have to take the long way home to clear things up.
A date with Ira? No way. I’ll ask her what she meant tomorrow.
Oh crap!
I snap out of bed and begin throwing on my shoes, then tear them off as I remember to dress first.
When I woke up this morning, I saw the calendar and remembered it was Sunday, so I decided to sleep in. The problem with that is
I FORGOT ABOUT MY DATE WITH IRA!
Er. Not a date.
I was so determined to ask her what she meant, I totally forgot the next opportunity would actually be on our hangout!
I wince. That word feels dirty, like sunflower seed in my gums. You can tell I’m trying to eat around it, can’t you? Either I use the word “date” and get carried away again, or I don’t, and I’m just putting words in Ira’s mouth.
Ahhhh! I need to shut up until I can actually talk to her.
One thousand ninety-five, one thousand ninety-six…
Once I realized I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking, I started counting to try and pass the time. Only, it hasn’t helped me stop thinking about Ira. The opposite! Every second that passes, I’m more and more sure that Ira knows what I’ve been thinking and is upset with me. And, since I’ve been keeping good track of time, I know just how many seconds of mad she is.
Eleven hundred and three, eleven hundred and four…
Did she already come by, then leave when I wasn’t here?
Eleven hundred and five, eleven hundred and six…
Why did I sleep in? Why do I have to be so lazy?
Eleven hundred and seven, eleven hundred and eight.
Marina said being late is fashionable, but not this late, right? Oh…
Eleven hundred and nine… ten… That’s a little over eighteen minutes. She must be seething!
I-
I-
I-
… I guess I’ll stop counting. I’m sorry; it’s annoying to hear me stammer. I’m just making things worse.
I plop down onto the snowy stair behind me and, immediately, regret it. I can already feel the slush finding gaps in my dress’s fabric. Beh...
It’s not fair to put labels on stuff like that anyway. Time, I mean. We already do so much corralling its delicate nature into our perception. We even think it’s funny! I heard a joke about it once, in an old American newspaper.
“Why do we call it the present? Because it’s a gift!”
(The joke being that the two words are the same, in English.)
Well, I guess I can’t disagree. Sometimes, though, I think maybe it’s not nice to be regifting the same thing over and over. Maybe time isn’t my gift to take…
Blehg! How shallow!
The world gave me a gift, and now I’m saying it’s not good enough? Passing down gifts is amazingly resourceful! The point is to make people happy, not consume like some capitalist.
The same thing can be plenty. Like hand-me-down clothes or…
Like that old streetlight!
It’s been standing there for a long, long time. Longer than I’ve been in Vorkuta-5–which is to say, my whole life. I’m sure it’s lit the way for most of the people in the city at some point.
Somewhere, in the present time, there’s someone searching for a streetlight like this one. They’re trying to find their lover, and the only thing to lead the way is bright sodium. Maybe something else. No matter what their reason is, someone else has definitely been in the same situation.
If we took everyone who was ever relieved to see a sodium bulb and shoved them under the same streetlight, that would be so many people! So many relieved sighs.
Gosh, the return trips home would be a nightmare, heheh. At least I don’t live too far.
...
All the same emotion, told a thousand times. All in a room together, that’s not bad at all. In fact, that’s amazing!
I wonder if anyone has ever sat on this step before, waiting for a girl...
I shouldn’t be silly! Of course they have! Plenty of people have waited for a friend before, so.
... Why the heck do I feel so special?
“Hey, Asya.”
All on instinct, I can feel my head snap to the sound of her voice.
Twelve hundred.
I’m sorry, I lied. I didn’t stop counting.
But, wait a sec, Ira showed up just on time! Right as the clock struck twenty minutes! That explains it then.
Once she saw I was missing, she watched and waited to teach me a lesson. Only, she didn’t want to wait for too long, so she was counting too.
That’s so cute! So cute! Thank you, Ira!
I have to admit, hearing her say my name makes me feel sort of fuzzy. It just does that sometimes, when I’m lost in my head. It’s like someone going, “Hey, space cadet! Message from command to Yuri: You’re here, right now! Remember that!”
And, when I’m with Ira, being grounded like that feels really nice.
It’s a little weird she’d address me by name though, instead of just saying hello. Is she nervous about something?
“Oh! Hey, IrAAAAAAAAA-!”
Pomf.
I went to stand, and my feet slipped on the ice, out from under me. That’s what I get for being excited.
I take a few deep breaths to steady myself before pushing up again, but I barely manage to get on my elbows before I hear something drop down next to me.
“... Ira?”
I blink my eyes open a few times, first checking what just landed beside me, then double-checking it is in fact her.
She looks really weird so close up.
Not in a bad way, of course! Not at all!
I’m just not used to seeing her like this. I’m sure we’ve never been this close before, because everything looks so much fuller. Her eyelashes are darker, her lips are red, her dress-
“W-Wait! Your dress!”
I shoot up again. It’s a miracle I don’t slip.
“Um! Sit up! I was only on the ground because I fell, the snow, it’ll-”
“It’s fine.”
“But-” I gasp. No way! “That’s a new dress! It’s gonna be ruined! I’m sorry, I-”
“Would you listen? I know what snow is, Asya.”
There it is again!
I feel bad perking up, when she’s clearly upset, but I can’t help it. My name, the chill, the snow water seeping through the back of my dress. It’s all just reminders of where I am.
“Right,” I smile. “Of course you do.”
“Mmh…”
She turns away.
“So, um. Why the new dress?”
“It’s not new.” Her head is still turned, so it’s hard to make out her tone. Still, she sounds defensive. Or ashamed. I wish I could tell…
Before I can ask another question, she mutters something quietly under her breath. I wouldn’t be able to tell she spoke at all if not for the crystallizing cold.
Thank you, Vorkuta weather.
“Um. Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.” My voice is too shrill, squeezed through the thought from yesterday. I guess I made her repeat herself after all.
“... ummy…”
“Huh?”
“Then sit down, dummy!”
“Oh. O-Okay…”
It’s odd, sitting back down again. In an attempt to avoid dirtying my clothes any further, I squeeze into the empty spot of snow where I fell, but it feels different already. Fresh snowflakes cling to my clothes. You move on fast, huh?
“... So. Why the new dress?” I feel bad asking a second time, but I’ve never seen her out of her usual clothes, and new clothes aren’t so easy to come by. I wonder where she got it.
No.
No, no, no!
I’m such a liar!
That’s not why I’m asking at all.
I’m not really sure why I’m asking, but I know it’s not that. I’m sorry I lied to you. Forgive my selfish curiosity.
“It’s only new to you. My mom, she… She gave it to me when I told her I was going out.”
“R-Really?”
That makes sense!
How could I forget Ira and her mom are so close?
Her family probably doesn’t have much money, so she decided to share what she had. Is she embarrassed she has to wear hand-me-downs? That’s not bad at all; that’s really sweet!
“That’s so nice of her!”
“... I guess.”
Urgh-
“Uh. Do you know where your mom got it?”
“Yeah.”
Ah-
“How do you like it? It’s a very pretty color.”
“Sure.”
Gahhhh!!!
Every time I talk, she just moves further away. A dozen other obvious lines escape through my lips, but she just mutters off in response. We keep trailing, and I can’t stop counting.
I try to bow and she just slips out of my fingers, careening towards the floor.
What am I doing, trying to keep things moving with any sort of elegance? I’m not a dancer—even my hands are left feet. I can’t do small talk. That’s why everyone gets tired of me. Nobody likes having to carry the conversation on their own, and I’m a mute when it matters.
We barely started talking—she just sat down—but I’m using all my energy not to cry. I guess I sniffle loud enough, because her head swivels back towards me.
Her eyes are puffy and red, too, but they’re defiant more than anything. I’ve never seen a conviction like it before. So impossibly wide, yet never flickering off to the world. I don’t know how she does it. Even now, I can’t stop myself from glancing at streetlights. I know I should be matching her gaze but…
I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!
For some gross reason, all I can think of when I look into Ira’s eyes is that day with the chair, and I’m sure she can tell what I’m thinking. I’m sure she’s going to hit me. Even though she’s not a violent girl, I’m making her betray her nature.
I’m sorry for ruining your angel!
I’m sorry, Ira!
“You’re…” She sniffles and glances away again. I’d take a betrayal of reality and a hard smack over that. “You’re so goddamn stupid. You know that, Shubina?”
Ack! Of course. That’s what this is.
She’s not going to hit me; I’m not special. She’s just going to get up and walk away!
The only reason she dressed up was so she could make something meaningful out of the day—something more important than ditching a loser like me. Maybe she’ll go see some foreign movie. Maybe she’ll go stargazing.
I can feel the pit in my stomach growing into something massive, too big to fit in my body. Bile is building, but I won’t have the energy to cough it up.
Ira’s going to leave me again, but Marina’s going to go with her. They’ll hide together in plain sight, where I’m too scared to say anything.
And I’m still picturing myself with her. Even though she doesn’t want me there.
Her leg twitches.
She kisses me.
Oh!
Oh!
So that’s what lips feel like!
It’s really embarrassing, that that's the only thought I can get off in the moment. I’m sorry I can’t be more verbose for you.
That... Wh- Wahuh? W-
WHAT?!
I- Uh-?
SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT!
“Sssss-” I whimper. “Ssss- Ssssss-”
Oh geez. Why did I choose to talk first? Am I just that easy to pressure?
Her eyes are as wide as the Bering. She thinks I’m a rock that just came to life.
Of course, I’m putting words in her mouth. I just feel a lot like a rock right now. I’m sorry for putting things in your mouth, Ira!
“Um. I’m um. I’m.”
I’M? What do I think I am? What’s this sudden declaration of spirit?
“I’m s-s-sorry…”
Now it’s really like I have three heads! I can see the grimace forming on her face.
Can you really hear what I’m thinking, Ira? Really? Ah- I have something to apologize for, then.
“I’M SORRY I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THE CHAIR THING!” I won’t be able to handle watching her scowl, so I toss my eyes to my feet. “I guess- I just- I never felt-” Hubris. I’m losing control of my words again. Can’t take a joke, Shubina?
The next words out of my mouth are a mystery, until a few seconds later as I catch their echo, jammed together in one long sound wave.
“I swear I think you were really cool and I know you didn’t do it for me but I’m just really really thankful please don’t be mad at me please don’t be mad at me I know you should be and I’m sorry for telling you how to feel but I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I promise it’s not because I think you’re a delinquent or a bad girl I guess I just never felt protected before.”
It’s weird. Normally, my thoughts are way ahead of my mouth. Whenever I lose control it’s… Scary. I know I need to be more careful. Never in my life have I spoken before thinking and not lived to regret it.
But Ira isn’t laughing at me. She’s just… staring. And then she wraps her arms around me.
…
Oh
…
…
My throat feels really tight...
Protected?
Hahhh. Is that it? I wanna be a freaking damsel in distress? I can't believe I'd coerce her like that!
But… Beh! Right now. I feel the same way.
On the step, her arms around me. I feel like I’m being protected from something.
But there’s no Garin around—thank goodness. I’m sorry, but I really hope nobody sees us; I don’t want to share!
So, I’m not sure what she’s protecting me from. Something outside of view, maybe?
The shadow I see on the edge of my vision, sometimes; time stacked sideways; times morphing on a schedule; the day one of us blacks out for good; all the bad things that could’ve come to pass, in another life… Ahhh…
...
...
...
...
...
Can you still hear me?
I feel like I’m in a Faraday cage. I can’t even feel the cold.
I feel infinitely safe, and infinitely loved. Things that I didn’t even realize could hurt me have no chance of penetrating my armor.
I’m clinging to Ira so tight. When did that happen? My arms are so weak, I can barely ruffle her coat.
Hah...
Hahhhh...
Thank you.
Thank you.
Ira wasn't supposed to make it, was she?
It just doesn't make any sense.
Did you do this?
Why?
That day at Marina’s house…
I want to shake my head and clear out the thought, but Ira has me too tight. She’s whispering something as I try to thrash in her arms.
This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
The thought should be enough to obliterate everything, but Everything is still here.
You really can’t hear me, can you?
Okay. Well.
Forgive my insolence, then. Because…
…
…
…
For all the world’s beautiful magnanimity... I think Ira and I did this. Marina did too. We pulled each other back. Even though people don’t have seizures in Vorkuta. Even though, if you piled together all the girls like us who made it under a streetlight, I don’t know if we’d even be able to circle the halo rim.
Haaaa…
One of us is crying. I’m too warm and achy to make out who, but tears are rolling off of me.
If you can hear me. Please don’t do this. Don’t get my hopes up for nothing.
Hah.
Hahahaha!
HAHAHAHAHA!
That goes for you too, Ira! Don’t kiss me just to run away, okay?
All the other streetlight girls are counting on us. And I’m counting on them. If any of us do it once, we can all do it again and again and again and again and again and again and again.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
The snowflakes are warm.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
We sit for a very, very long time. Long enough I should be worried we’ll miss our showing, but I can’t bring myself to care. Eventually, she whispers something in my ear—still nestled in the collar of my jacket.
“Did you… Still wanna go on that date?”
“So it was a date!”
I throw myself off of her in surprise.
She blinks hard a few times.
“I mean. Yeah. We just. Um…” She’s so adorable, scuffing at the snow with her shoes. “... Whatever. Come on.”
= TRANSMISSION 1 of ?, END=