Page 6 of All or Something

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.”

---