//------------------------------// // Thaw // Story: Heart of Winter // by Dr.Shisno //------------------------------// If I were not thinking properly as I gaze out of frost-tinted window, I would have mistaken white flurry that crisscrossed lands for Motherland. Winter storm had been going on for better part of two weeks. So mistaking for home was natural; both were white and cold. It was like I had never left. Though self’s old cabin was now replaced with modern western living space. It was warmer and I had own bed. Rarity was overjoyed in first shower after longest time. In modernism, there was little to do. Little need to gather wood or hunt for food. Things of that nature had been stored and collected for such a storm. At home, I would even make treks out in winter storm even just for fresh air. I could not risk such trek now. I did not know area and I needed to stay well for journey. Term I have come familiar with was “Cabin Fever.” Rarity seemed to not be bothered as I. She found many things to occupy time. From reading what little literature Sergei had, to sketching new fashions. We conversed little, for there was little to talk about. I mostly questioned her drawings, which she scolded self as being caveman for not knowing the highlights of popular fashion. It was difficult not to forcibly shake the fashionista out of her. I found self, when not being lectured ‘til ears bled, observing. Stealing glances in between cups of coffee. Such glances turned into thoughtful looks, and not thoughts of ways to shake the fashionista out of her. I rationalized that it was only natural. Trying to understand person who was changing life so drastically. I also knew very little about her. Part of self wished to learn something from this enigma. At same time, I have no revealed much about self to her. Maybe I was as mystery to her as she was to self. Also, it was either winter storm or woman, so choice was simple. Gaze now was focused on raging storm outside. Winds at least forty kilometers an hour were self’s best guess. I could only sigh, realizing it would mean more time trapped in cabin. Sipping on coffee/vodka mix, I scratched at midsection. Wound was healing well, thanks to woman’s help. Bandage was even taken off the other day. It made breathing cold air much easier. Nurse Rarity still advised bed rest and little excessive moment; though suggestion was more of joke. Quick glance over shoulder, Rarity was nose deep into one of few books Sergei managed to find: a history book of all things. Her head shifted from book to notepad she was sketching on, then back to book. She would flip a few pages and sketch more. Her black hair was pinned back in bun, though few hairs could not be contained by her best attempts and drifted over face. Hair was accented by purple that started to break through roots. Where she had procured red-rimmed glasses, I have no idea, but they sat perfectly on nose. Sergei was able to pick up clothing that suited Rarity to some degree. It seemed as though my caveman attire was not something she was not fond of. She made some alterations, so they worked better for her. So black sweater that was being worn now was to her standard. Sweater hugged tight to body, adding embellishment to already predominate curves. Such was way with pants that she wore as well. Maybe self was not completely at fault for stares. “What is it you draw today?” I prepared myself for belittling with response. “I was looking at some of the fashions throughout history, trying to draw inspiration from multiple eras.” Her focus did not remove itself from book in front of her. “And how is that working for you?” “Quite well, actually.” Rarity stopped and finally looked up at self, wearing small smile. “I’m quite fond of the more proper, and classier fashions of the 1920’s. All the flash and pizazz is quite inspiring.”  “Hmm, okay.” I did not know what else to respond with. She went back to work without saying anything else. All this talk of fashion was foreign language to self. It was one language I had no intentions of learning. It was few moments ‘till Rarity spoke up, “You’re awfully quiet as of late. Is something wrong?” “What is there to talk about? We have been trapped in cabin for two weeks now. I have had little to do, but eat and sleep.” She did not respond, but continued to sketch. I continued to drink and look out window. “You know,” I started to question. “You have never told me about where you lived.” Sound of her pencil tip snapping echoed loudly in quiet room. “W-where I lived?”                  “You mentioned sister some time ago. So logical thinking would say you would have lived somewhere.” I leaned up against wall; still taking small sips of coffee, though now with smile. “You simply could have not fallen from the sky.” “Oh it’s not that interesting really.” She looked up from work, turning to self with a face that would not win a game of poker. “Why do you want to know about it?” I shrugged, “Something to talk about, I suppose. Something you cannot yell at self about.” “Oh, well, it seems only fair.” She collected herself, thinking of words to say. “I lived in a small village. A nice and quaint place surrounded by mountains. The air is clean and fresh. Everyone knows each other.” Her smile grew natural; look on face showed happiness in memory. “There was never a dull moment, that’s for sure.” “It sounds too good to be sure,” I chuckled. “Was it sunny and twenty-six degrees everyday?” “If the pegasi did their job ri-.” Rarity immediately stopped talking. The suddenness of quiet and word pegasi made self raise eyebrow. “Well, no, the weather is nice,” Rarity makes a quick recovery. “But it is much more tame than here in the winter. I mean, good heavens, I have never been this cold for this long in my life. I can’t imagine why you would choose to live in this arctic wasteland.” Another shrug, “It is not this cold during rest of year. But it is my personal choice. It brings out the heartiness in people. It has changed you, nyet?” “I suppose you’re right,” Rarity thought for moment. “This whole experience has been something else.” “That is something we can agree on. I had never expected to travel to west, under these circumstances even less.” I adjusted placement of body on wall, buying few seconds of thought. “I believe weird is not the right word. Anyway, continue about your life.” “I lived a simple life, actually. I was a fashion designer.” Part of self knew such a fact, but it was nice to hear confirmed truth. “I haven’t really had any big breaks, just a lot of smile time designing. Some occasional big jobs.” “That is fair, I did little anyway. I had to work in factory to help support family. Dreadful work, but it put food on table.” Rarity turned to self, still remaining in chair. “So that’s what you were doing before you decided to be a hermit.” She jokingly smiled, “So how was the city you lived in, Tver, I believe?” “Oh Tver? It is city off the Volga River, one of the predominate rivers in Russia. When it is nice, it is green and bright. Lots of trees, yet sort of flat. There are a few academies in the area.” It was easy to tell my memory was failing quite quickly. “It was a nice city. Nothing too great.” “What about your family? Are they still in that area? I know you mentioned your sister,” Her smile grew sly. “You simply couldn’t have fallen from the sky.” “Da, my sister is still in that area. You know that. You played as her for day. As for parents, they are no longer with us.” “Oh, I apologize,” Rarity covered mouth as if she had spat out fire. “I-I didn’t mea-.” “It is fine,” Gaze dropped to coffee cup still in hand, its brown contents reflecting self’s unphased face. “There has been time, it no longer bothers self. Besides, you had no knowledge of it. Do not worry. Father died when I was young, and Mother was not same after it. I had sister to take care of. Soon, Mother passed on and we lived with Grandfather.” I shifted gaze away from cup and back to Rarity, face wrought with concern. My smile did little to dispel her look. “What about your family? I am sure it is more whole than self’s.” “Well,” She laughed a bit nervously. “Yes, but I still take care of my sister. My parents travel a lot, and I believe a stable home is what she deserves.” She looks down, sighing lightly. “Though, I admit, we argue a lot and I’m certainly not the best pon- person to live with sometimes.” I had to stifle laughter, “At least you have courage to admit such.” Her posture changed immediately, “This is no laughing matter, Arkady. Yes, I admit I am a demanding person, and a bit difficult to contend with.” She huffed, crossing arms forcibly, leaning back in chair. Her face took shade of glasses she wore. Even adding flip to hair that was over her face, for added effect. Bringing cup to lips, I could not help but smile. “You know, you are quite cute when you are angry.” Her gaze averted, as face grew darker in red. “Um, what did you just say?” “Difficult to live with and hard of hearing?” I finished up last of coffee, making way to kitchen for another cup. “I said you are cute when you are angry. Goodness, you are thi-.”  Tight grip around my arm was cause for stop. I did not realize path to kitchen cut close to Rarity’s spot. She did not look up and did not say a word, almost just content with keeping tight grip on arm. Few seconds felt like minutes before she spoke, “Thank you, Arkady.” Grip was released on arm and I stood there another few seconds, unsure of what to say or do. So, I did nothing, walking to kitchen. Focus would not arrive in kitchen. I could not even find the vodka. Huffing in frustration, I hung head as wave of emotions hit self. Body wanted to rid self of stomach contents, but I refused such. As body slowed and head stopped spinning, gaze drifted to side. Bottle was not so hidden on countertop. Skipping on coffee, cup poured was straight vodka. Cup in hand, I paused before sip. Pause was unknown, but pause was not for long period of time. The small burn of drink going down throat was natural as water. Putting glass back down, I was content with staring out window, watching snow blow past across land. So far away from home, but not far enough. I heard someone walk into kitchen, but I did not pay much attention. Steps became closer and soon enough two arms gently wrapped around midsection, with warm body pressed against back. It was quiet for few moments before person spoke. “I really wish you wouldn’t drink so much,” Rarity’s soft voice was barely above whisper. “It’s like you’re trying to forget.” “You would never make good Russian,” I sigh. “It is just something we do. Besides, there is little good to remember anyway.” “So when I go, you will continue to drink?” There was skip in her voice. “Like this never even happened?” “It is difficult to say this never happened. So, there is little drink can do to make self forget all of this.” “A-are you positive?” I turned to woman, who still kept arms around midsection. Her face was flush and eyes red from tears. Another sigh, placing reassuring grip on her shoulders, “Yes, I am positive.” “Hold me, please.” Her whisper was barely audible. “I am sorry, wha-“ “I said: Shut. Up. And. Hold. Me.” Not wanting to anger Rarity any further, I stood up a bit straighter, wrapping arms around her. Grip around midsection tightened as I pulled her closer. She even hummed lightly, laying her head against my chest. Her fingers drew circles on back. Self even drew her closer, setting chin on top of her head. I did not dare move, partly at loss with situation. Small part of brain wished for bear attack instead of current situation. Other part was happy of situation, overjoyed in closeness, delighted in smell of her flower shampoo. It was feeling I had not felt in long time. Feeling of breath against chest only reminded self that it was indeed not a dream. “I thought you said I smell bad,” self’s mouth decided to ruin silence. Without looking down I knew she had smile on face, “You still do. You always smell, but I don’t think a shower could change that.” “One could hope, nyet?” I looked down at her and she pulled face off of chest, looking up at self. There was look on her face like small dog, begging for scraps at table. “OI! Comrade!” Sergei busted in through kitchen door. The squat man stumbled into kitchen, his smile barely hidden by thick, graying beard. “I have good news! Where is vodka?” He paused, slowly becoming aware of scene in front of him; his two guests in each other’s arms. His evaluation of scene was followed by chuckle. I reach behind self to grab bottle, moving it closer to him while loosening grip around Rarity, who returned to laying face on chest. “What is this good news?” Sergei held up finger, telling self to wait while he took long drink straight from bottle. He sighed happily, as bottle was brought away from lips. “Weather should be clear enough to fly by tomorrow afternoon.” He took another swig from bottle. “So I suggest the happy couple gathers their things and prepares for long day tomorrow. Arkady, I need your help to prep the aircraft tomorrow morning. So another suggestion is to get lots of rest, not stay up too late, and please keep noise down for I would like to sleep as well.” He laughed to self, turning to leave room. He took bottle with him as he left. Silence filled room again, save for breathing. “Are all you Russians like that?” It was Rarity’s soft whisper again. “With the drinking?” “Not all,” I could only shrug. “Though it seems like everyone does. Is like national pastime.” I paused, thinking for second, “It is probably bad for image. Now then,” I patted her cheek lightly with hand, “Sergei was right in suggesting rest. We have long day tomorrow.” Another small surprise when she took my hand in hers, keeping it on her cheek. She seemed to melt around fingertips, humming softly. After few seconds, she released grip. Letting both our hands fall. “Okay,” voice was monotone as she released arm around midsection and made way for door. Opening door, she paused in doorframe, turning head with half-smile, “Goodnight, then.” Closing the door behind her, I was left alone in kitchen. Turning back to window, I was alone with the winter storm on other side of glass. Objects outside were barely visible in white haze and the winter twilight. I knew there was a town out there, people living lives, but thanks to damned storm, there was only white. No matter how much I longed for images beyond the white to be forests of home, their shape would not change. I longed for many things. Feeling of great-grandfather’s rifle on shoulder, frost accumulating on beard as I sighted on choice animal. Having just self to rely on. Self was such an easy word to speak of. But the traditionalist Russian in self preached bigger: camaraderie, duty, and honor. This was one of few times I had true duty and it relied on my honor to uphold it. To make sure Rarity got home. Though first notion was difficult to have firm grasp on. Camaraderie, da, we were together in struggles on journey. Da, she has depended on self for many things. But, was it camaraderie? Nyet, it was not. Something else. This was all difficult. Part of self wanted to follow Rarity, comfort her more. Nyet, other part said. The protector does not take advantage. This is your duty. It is first true cause, do not take advantage of such predicament. I sighed; I had duty, a promise to uphold. It was for best anyways, da? Was it truly for best? And for whom was this best? There was certain happiness found with Rarity. As much as I did not want to admit such, such feeling was there. Now, I was not completely sure. She too had certain feelings, but this was still mystery woman. A rarity as she was, it should be duty first. Headache started to appear. Damn these emotions. Damn them all.  Putting head in hands, massaging temples did little to relieve pain. Gaze drifted to vodka remaining in cup. I scoffed, realizing Sergei had taken the bottle with him. Grabbing the cup, it paused halfway to lips. The memory of Rarity’s words and drinking, it itched in back of head. Grip tightened around cup as anger began to rise, glass began to crack. I continued to drink, finishing off contents quickly. There was little time to register burn of drink before slamming cup into ground. It shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. “FUCKING SHIT!” I did not care who heard me. Cleaning up mess would come later. Pain started to register from hand. There was nice cut in hand from broken glass. I muttered more curses under breath. Fumbling with cigarette and lighter, I took long drag, letting exhale be just as long. Smoke made small cloud ‘til dispersing to rest of room. Examining cigarette, blood started to stain white paper. Gaze did return to storm raging outside, the snow not ceasing to blow, the white flurry sparkling in winter twilight. It was all white, that’s all it was. That is how it has always been. White snow everywhere. And I hated it.