Page 75 of The Game

“You know me, Adam. I saw too many people turning tricks on the street, including Zach. I always think the worst.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” I bury my hands in my hair, sucking in a jittery breath. “Perhaps it wasn’t sexual abuse, maybe it was something else …”

“Whatever it is, Anna certainly did it.”

I bristle immediately. “Why would you think that?”

“Because she got out of Russia. She made it. It’s rare. That’s what they’re all aiming for. That’s why they want a sponsor. It’s the only way out.”

“Jesus.”

“My guess is Pietr was her sponsor. He was her way out.”

The coffee shop is full of people chatting at tables, backpacks and shopping bags clustered around their feet. It’s all so Western and normal; we have no idea in this country what goes on elsewhere. How bad it is. How amazing is Anna? How much has she had to fight?

Fabian pops another bit of brownie into his mouth and chews. “The thing is, I think it might involve boys, too.”

“Boys … sponsored by male sponsors?”

“Yes.”

“So, if it is abuse … then boys being abused by men?”

Fabian nods.

“But homosexuality is banned in Russia, yes?”

“Well, technically it’s not illegal, but it’s so heavily disapproved of that that’s an irrelevance. The pedophilia is obviously illegal. I suspect the tennis academy could be making big money on all of it. Blackmail’s a possibility, too.”

Is this true? Or does Fabian see shadowy figures and illegal activities everywhere?

“Do you think Maroz …?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. The interesting thing was, he was a tennis player originally. He didn’t meet Anna at the camps; he was older than her, but he made an abrupt switch to skiing. I mean he was a talented skier, obviously, but he suddenly dropped the tennis. I’ve no idea why. His father is high up in the Russian hierarchy, and it’s possible something happened.”

Wow. If this is true, then … But does any of this digging matter anymore anyway? I haven’t heard from Anna in four days, and having Fabian unearth this information about her feels like a huge intrusion into her fight to the top. She didn’t share any of this with me. Some half comments and hints, sure, but nothing more, and perhaps that says it all.

But Christ, I didn’t tell her anything about my past either. Despite how good it was, maybe neither of us wanted to sully it with the awful things we lived through.

“If Pietr was her sponsor, I’d say it’s slightly odd that she was publicly with him for years and then somehow escaped from him and stopped being his girlfriend,” Fabian muses, frowning.

“She did tell me that he was controlling, that the relationship was abusive.” Hell, the hints were all there, now I come to think of it.

“Yeah, well, it’s not going to be sunshine and roses, is it?” Fabian’s eyes roam over my face and he frowns. “What’s up with you anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem like your normal solid self. You’re looking a bit wild-eyed, if I’m being frank.”

I shrug. “I guess none of it matters anymore. She said she didn’t want us to …” I wave an arm around. “… Continue with whatever it was we were doing.”

“What? She split up with you?”

I frown at this.Yes, yes she did, Adam. But God … “We were friends, Fabian.”

“Are you still friends?”

I guess that’s the fifty-million-dollar question. And in all my anger this week, I haven’t really asked myself this question. I’ve been too agitated to think about being friends. But if there was an argument for friends at the beginning, maybe that rationale still exists. The anger is all about me, the pain that constricts my lungs, stopping my breathing. I wonder how Anna feels?

---