Alternatives

Chapter 6:Ambitions Part Two

"That's surprisingly mature of you, princess. I remember being like you. I was full of big, powerful words and had a big, powerful heart. Bled it all over this country in my younger days."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened? Life happened. I realized some things. Have you seen this city yet?"

Alina nodded. She knew what he was talking about.

"Well, I've lived here all my life. Have you noticed how people talk a lot about the good old days when all you needed to succeed in Coney Island was cheap liquor, a bag of bribe money, and some fine ladies to rob your customers?"

She had noticed that.

"Well, not everyone was ready to do that. My folks got screwed over pretty bad. And once you fall, the dogs smell it. Mafia blackmailed every last penny out of them. And some blood."

"That's horrible. I'm sorry."

"The point is, it teaches you to take care of yourself, alright? I've seen a lot of this country. I did a lot of investigative journalism, too. Scum is everywhere. It's like a w**d or cockroach. You can't kill it. You don't even know the full extent of it, because you walk with your face to the sun. All I want is to keep the vermin out of my goddamn house. Expensive house, if possible."

"Why do you care about this, then?"

"Because", he started and stopped. He looked… tired. "After you came, the little delinquent Russian kids started speaking this horrible version of English all of a sudden. One of them taught it to his older brother, and his older brother came to me asking for work. I didn't need anybody, but I knew someone in construction who did. The kid still works there."

"Oh." Nikolai is still working on that construction site?

"I won't say this again, and I'll deny it forever, but… you might be on to something. I'm too tired to do what you do, and frankly, you're too naïve and sometimes annoying in this whole idealistic Oliver Twist narrative you have. But it seems to be doing something. So I'll help you."

"Oh. That's… thank you. I won't mention it again, to save your gruff gritty persona."

They walked silently for a while. Alina could faintly hear the sound of a violin in the distance.

"Has your darling always been this eccentric?" Jack asked.

"I've only known him a little less than a year. But from what I've heard, he used to be much worse." The choice of words didn't escape her. "He's not my darling, though."

"No? Are you kidding? Is that why you live together and finish each other's sentences?"

"We don't find-"

"Sounds to me like you're practically married already. Why are you skipping the fun part of it?"

"We're not! It's not like that!" Alina felt her cheeks getting hot. "Go fall into a ditch, Jack!"

"You've had better ones. My favorite was when you told me to step on a garden rake. Simple, yet picturesque."

"You can still do that." Please, Jack, do that.

"No, I've been curious for an eternity now, and I want to know. If you don't tell me, I'll fish it out of him. I'm a journalist, remember?"

"There's nothing to fish out! Ask him if you want! I bet he doesn't even notice it!" Oh, no. Did I just say that? He can't do that. Jack had that smug look on his face again, and Alina started to panic.

"Alright, maiden, you can calm down. Your fair knight has some spikes in his armor, I noticed. Doesn't change the fact that he would still die for you."

Alina was still silently panicking.

"I'll drop the subject now, OK? But it's true. If you both just get your heads out of your asses, you'll see. And then you can have some fun. Trust me."

ooo

She was ruined.

Jack had put a bug in her ear, and now she couldn't think about anything else. She had to excuse herself to pace around the beach nervously. She must have crossed it a hundred times already, but she was not done with thinking.

She had been successful at steering clear of this kind of nonsense all her life. She had good reasons to. She had her plans and ambitions on one side, and her stupid fears of duty and commitment and being trapped in a life of a trophy woman and/or becoming my parents on the other. Alina avoided potential husbands like the plague all her life. She had no intention of risking to sacrifice everything she was – especially now that she finally had a good idea of it – just to find, I don't know, love or l**t or security, or whatever else makes women so eager to get a nice man and change their last name. She was doing well enough so far, although she'd felt and craved all of those things, and at times suffered for it.

Contrary to a rather prevalent opinion, Alina's heart was not made of stone. It was just carefully wrapped, stored away, and suppressed, so it wouldn't get in the way of other things. The last time she let some handsome young man know she even had a heart, she was around seventeen and the whole thing ended even before it started because the brave young lad was, as Alina found out on time, under the impression wives were just maids one wouldn't have to pay for. While she had never looked down upon maids, she looked down upon unpaid labor. And it seemed like most men did not approve of her wanting to continue her way of living until I goddamn decide to stop it myself; not to mention most men were not such fascinating creatures once she got to know them enough. Alina had dear male friends and role models, but no one she wanted to keep near her forever or some other romantic nonsense.

Until now, that is.

She was inclined to think she'd been more or less successful at hiding everything from Erik so far because she was under the impression he had no such interest in her. It was quite clear he considered her important; he seemed to trust her and seek out her company more often than she'd expect of someone so peculiar and withdrawn. But if he did think – feel – something more, she hadn't noticed until now; although looking back at some things that he'd done does cast a different light on everything now that she knew this. Jack had noticed it on his own and Alina couldn't see why he would lie to her.

It was hard to throw excuses such as "keeping her own ambitions" when the man in question had been rather persistently trying to help her with said ambitions and not demanding anything she wouldn't do. And it was hard to say he was not interesting enough for her to want to keep him in her life when I'm so blatantly, stupidly fascinated –

I'm in love. It was a bizarre notion and Alina didn't know a curse in English that would adequately describe how she felt about it, so she had to resort to her native language for a second.

She was in love with a man who was strange, specific, and hard to understand. Not to mention a social outcast and very noticeably disfigured underneath that mask. Alina never cared about wealth or social status that much, but she had thought she cared about – beauty. Can it be called that? There was something undeniably attractive to her about him, in that strange way men can be attractive when they're not beautiful. Something about his eyes made Alina want to look at them all the time; something about his voice made her wish he'd never stop talking and singing and something about his long, thin hands made her wonder how they'd feel wrapped around her. Even spinsters and shrews like me want to be kissed. I may owe some money to Amelija since that settles our ancient bet.

I'm ruined, yes. What will I do?

Normally, her first thought would be to pack her bags and run. But she couldn't even consider it. Not just because of the life she'd built in this very godforsaken corner of New York, which was finally starting to go her way. The thought of going home to a house where Erik wasn't playing his violin, furiously drawing his projects, or waiting for her to discuss something with that strangely mixed attitude of gentle understanding and sardonic remarks filled her with dread. She felt as if it would leave a hole somewhere inside her, she'd feel for the rest of her days.

There was a very sad folk song back in Alina's homeland that she now felt she understood. The singer tells of how he planted his love like a violet inside his heart, and it has since grown so many roots that ripping it out might rip his heart in two along with it. From what Alina could remember, the only things he could do were either let it grow or let it wilt on its own.

I suppose that's my answer. It's beyond my control now, and I can't do much but water it at this point. I only hope this won't end with a handful of dead flowers in my goddamn chest.

ooo

The world does keep turning even when one is occupied with their problems, and Alina realized she hadn't visited Yana in a while. She decided to do just that and head towards her house the next day.

"Hello, Alina."

"Yana! What's wrong? You look… tired." And sad.

"I am tired." She leads her into her house.

"What's happening?"

"It's work. They're putting everything on me. More work all the time, but nothing good of it. I keep doing everything hoping they'll put me as a baker instead, but they just throw promises and nothing happens yet."

"I'm so sorry! Do you need help? Maybe we could-"

"No, Alina", she sighed. "I don't need help. I need to do this on my own for now. You can't fix everything for everyone. I can fight for myself; I just need more time. Until then, life is a mess."

Well, she's right, Alina thought. I can't fix her life. But I can still do something.

"Maybe Erik and I could watch Pjotr more often, so you can rest – or you and I could go on walks together, or have tea more often. You'll feel better when you have something nice to look forward to."

"That… would be good." She sighed again. "I missed you, Alina. Everything is so dramatic with you, but nothing is so serious that I could lose my job if I say something wrong. It does cheer me up talking to someone."

"I missed you too!" I'm not that dramatic. "Do you want to tell me to trash about other workers? I won't tell anyone, I swear, I love hearing about this stuff. You'll feel better."

"Really?"

"Yes, as you've so cleverly noticed, I thrive on drama. What else would explain my choice of books?"

Yana smiled mischievously for the first time since Alina arrived. "You're right. You need to be watered like a plant. Except with tears and stories."

"That's a very appropriate and unfortunate comparison, but I'll take it."

"Something is bothering you, too. Will you tell me?" Alina always forgot how perceptive Yana was. She'd be surprised if she hadn't already guessed what was bothering her, but she was not quite ready to discuss it yet.

"I'll tell you another time, alright? I need to settle it with myself first. And you have more interesting things to complain about, I'm sure."

"Alright. I'll get us something to drink, and I'll tell you all. You'll love it."