Chapter Eight:

A little over a month later

“Why did we start doing this!? I'm so fucking stupid.” Vasha was screaming at me, violently throwing her head back to down a shot of vodka while I sat in stunned silence. She was acting so unpredictable, I wouldn't have even needed to see the half full bottle of liquor that was sitting on her desk to know she was completely wasted. From the looks of it, my girl was on a bender with no intention to stop. Her black hair was disheveled and her dark sweater seemed loose from yanking and pulling on it. Vasha narrowed her eyes at me viciously when all I did was drop my jaw from the whiplash.

“ANSWER ME!” She screeched, accusing me of sleeping with everyone I know and calling me a bitch. I winced from her words as she continued without missing a beat. “Why would you do this to me? I love you Francine. Who are you fucking? Katie? Or is it Liza!?” She wailed in despair, pouring herself another shot before slamming the bottle down. This wasn’t the time to tell her all these assumptions were in her head, but they were, and staying quiet would only infuriate her more. I had to say something otherwise her ears were going to pop off from all the steam.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, Vash.”

I was trying to bring her down to my level, but she laughed bitterly and spat, “What are you saying? I have a problem? My drinking has nothing to do with your LYING.”

She was full blown crying now, alternating between screaming and laughing. This wasn’t my first rodeo calming down a drunk person, but seeing as I couldn’t take control of the situation over video chat, I strapped in for the challenge.

“Alright. Well, I can’t lie about something I know nothing about.” I responded cautiously. She slumped back in her chair and clasped her hand around the bottle of booze again, but didn’t drink. Just fixed her stare on the label.

“What would you have me do?” Her voice was quiet again, stressed and irritated.

“...Maybe start with telling me what I did? Vasha, I have no idea why you’re mad at me....” It killed me every time she called or Skyped drunk, with these fabricated fantasies of me cheating and lying to her about it. I did nothing but work, and the rest of my life revolved around Vasha and Vasha alone. I was getting pretty tired of it, but didn’t know what to do because I loved her so. There didn’t seem to be a way to persuade her after she’d gotten into the liquor, anyway. I didn't know a shit ton about her past, but she told me a little about the first and only girl who broke her heart a few years ago. When she drinks, it's almost as if Vasha's mind takes her back to that place and she actually thinks I'm deceiving her. Its a cruel way her mind plays tricks on her, and I have to remind myself of that every time she gets irrationally upset and I want to react defensively. I was more upset for Vasha than I was for myself, because I knew I couldn't ever do that to her.

“Listen to me, Vasilisa. I’m not your EX girlfriend! I’m not cheating on you. Don’t I answer every SINGLE time you message me? Unless I’m at work? Hell, most of the time I write YOU first anyway. I’m not doing ANYTHING except loving you— and you’re making it so fucking difficult.”

I didn’t mean that how it came out, but of course, Vasha caught on and narrowed her bloodshot green eyes into barely visible slits.

God. Fuck me running.

“Ohhh. I see, I’m difficult to love? Well don’t worry, I’ll just go away now.” She laughed manically and took one last swig from her bottle of vodka before turning and hurling it against the wall. I covered my ears as it shattered loudly.

“VASHA. Stop!” I desperately tried to explain what I had been trying to say instead, that pushing me away was what made loving her hard, but she’d disconnected the Skype call before I could say anything else.

I just couldn't win, could I?

********************

A few days later, I was joining my roommates for dinner. I hadn't been able to get a hold of Vasha, and it was starting to really depress me. Charlotte glanced at me with a sigh and took a sip of her favorite apple juice. If I'd been in a better mood, I might have teased her over it but I couldn't muster up the energy. As I was struggling to force a bite of homemade pasta down, my ears perked at the sound of my phone going off.

“She not get back to you yet? Like, at all?” Olive looked over her shoulder sympathetically when I jumped at the notification, only for it to be a text from Priscilla reminding me I’d picked up an extra shift at work tomorrow. As if I could forget.

My heart twitched painfully in my chest. “No....God, why can’t I keep my fat mouth shut?” I scowled and turned my iPhone face down on the kitchen counter before returning to my seat in the dinning room. My roommates shared a helpless look, and it made me feel bad for bringing down the mood.

"I'm sorry, I just...this is really shitty. I don't want to bother you with my issues." I muttered. Olivia shook her blonde head with a frown in my direction.

"Don't apologize, you're not bothering us Francine."

“Couples fight...I’m sure she’ll get over it.” Charlotte added kindly, buttering a piece of garlic bread and placing it on my plate, next to the untouched spaghetti and meatballs Olive made for us all. I smiled weakly. They didn’t know Vasha. She held onto grudges, and took everything to heart. I didn’t want to admit I may have ended us before we even had a chance to get started.

“It’s been three days. I’ve written her dozens of messages...she isn’t answering any of my Skype calls. I even bought another international calling card, but all my phone calls are being forwarded to voicemail.” This is the longest we’d gone without talking in almost three months, and I couldn’t stand it. Refusing to cry in front of my roommates, I excused myself and stashed my uneaten food in the fridge. I felt so drained from worry and paranoia. I worried when she drank, and I had no idea if she was safe.

None.

Vasha was acting like an entirely different person, and there wasn't anything I could do but wait until she'd cooled down enough to talk to me.

I mean if she ever decided to talk to me again.

********************

I woke with a start around 2:30 A.M, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart felt like it was pulsating in my throat as I reached under my pillow for my iPhone. Sure enough, three Facebook messages were waiting for me. Relief washed over me for a second when I read Vasha's name, until I actually started scanning over what she'd written.

Facebook Messenger: Detka? Tell me you're online.

I need you. Could you respond maybe?

I made a mistake....please write me back.

Without hesitation, I called Vasilisa. It rang three times, then picked up her voicemail. Damn.

I dove under the bed for my laptop, and quickly logged into my Skype account.

Vasha wasn’t active. Huh.

I was about to send her a message through WhatsApp, when my cell rang. Her number popped up on my screen and I gasped quietly.

“Vash?” I breathed a sign of relief. It was short lived however as the person started speaking quickly.

“No. My name is Olya, I’m Vasilisa’s best friend. Are you her girlfriend?” The voice on the other end sounded rushed.

“Yes.....” I trailed off skeptically and rubbed my eyes to try and wake myself up faster. Why did this chick have Vasha’s phone? "Where is she? I've been trying to get a hold of her for-"

Olya cut me off in a distracted tone. “I know you were quarreling, but that's between the two of you. I'm doing this as a favor to Vasha. She’s been arrested, Francine. A few hours ago. We were at a bar, and she got into some trouble with a guy trying to flirt with her. Her dad is working on getting her out. She just didn’t want you to worry and asked me to call you.”

“...What...?” I shook my head in confusion and smacked my forehead. It was worse than I thought.

Arrested!? Oh Vasha...

“I can tell you’re surprised. I’ll say one thing about my dear friend Vasha, she’s ill tempered. She drinks too much and causes problems for herself. Prepare yourself for this if you intend to keep dating her.” Olya's grave warning sent a chill down my spine.

I must be dreaming. I knew about Vasha’s tendency to drink, especially after our relationship took off and she showed me the insecure side of her, but I didn’t know any of this. She hid that part of her life so carefully from me. The inevitable question was lingering in the back of my mind, and I couldn't pretend it didn't exist anymore.

What else was she hiding?

“I need to know. Are you serious about my friend? You're in America. How do I know you won't hurt her again?” Olya asked, complacent. It sounded like she felt it was her place to be sure. I guess that was fair...if I were in her shoes, I'd want to know my friend was seeing someone good for them. I felt so bad for not doing a better job of comforting Vasha, and I stood up to pace around my bed.

“She-she’s coming to see me soon...” my voice cracked, thinking of my small, tiny little Detka in jail. "I wouldn't ever hurt her on purpose. She's an amazing person, I-I didn't mean to...thank you for telling me, Olya. Could you just have her call me as soon as she gets out? Please? I need to tell her I'm sorry...”

There was a brief silence, then I heard Olya's feminine voice speak up over a crowd. “I’m sure she’ll do it on her own, but I’ll let her know you asked.”

I kept the phone glued to my ear for a few seconds after she hung up. While I was so very relieved to know Vasha was alright, I couldn’t manage to get back to sleep. I’d be paying for it later at work, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment. I didn't think too many people would understand if I explained it to them, but I knew this wasn't really who Vasha was. She didn't belong in jail! I wondered if the man who kept insistently hitting on her was doing any time for harassment, but I doubted it. There wasn't much if any protection for the gay community in Russia, and even without knowing the full story I was able to put together a likely scenario in my head. Vasha was tough, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was shaking with fear right now. The thought alone crushed me.

I needed to see her now more than ever.