“Nadia,” he begged her, “please let me explain.”
“You don’t need to,” she said. To her embarrassment, tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She swiped them angrily away. “I understand completely. You used me, and you lied to me.”
She expected him to deny it, but to her surprise, Nikolai said, “I know I did. And I’m so sorry. God, Nadia, I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to take it back.”
“You can’t though,” she said. “That’s the problem.”
“I know!” he cried, his face anguished. “I wanted to tell you a hundred times, but I didn’t know how.”
“That’s bullshit,” she said.
“You’re right!” he said. “I knew it was bullshit. I knew I was being weak and selfish. But I swear to you Nadia, if you forgive me, I’ll never lie to you again.”
“Nik,” she said, crying all the harder. “How can I possibly believe that?”
He stood there without knowing how to answer.
She yanked open the car door once more and climbed inside.
“Nadia,” he said, still holding on to the doorframe, “please don’t go!”
“Let go of the car,” she said.
As soon as he did, she turned to the driver and said, “Go, please.”
The cab pulled away from the curb, leaving Nikolai standing there, slumped and staring after her.
* * *
30
Nadia
Nadia returned to her grandfather’s house. It was late at night, and Rashel appeared to be already in bed. All the lights were off in the house. Silence reigned, other than the usual creaks and groans of the old walls.
Nadia ran straight up to her mother’s bedroom.
In a fury of rage and sadness, she began to empty the wardrobe and the drawers. She hauled her suitcase out from under the bed, thick with dust from how long it had been sitting there. She began piling in all her clothes, wadding them up to make them fit.
She had the crazed idea that she would fly back to Paris first thing in the morning. It had been a mistake to come to Moscow. She didn’t belong here. She’d been sentimental, chasing after the story in the journal, and she’d acted like a blind fool falling in love with Nikolai so quickly.
This was what happened when you let your emotions control you. It was the same lesson that Samara had learned. That’s why she’d gone to Paris, to make a proper adult life for herself.
But that thought made Nadia pause in her mad packing of the suitcase.
Samara had given up on her passions and dreams.
But it hadn’t made her any happier.
She’d turned somber and cold. She’d been a stranger to her own daughter, for the rest of her life.
Was that really what Nadia wanted for herself?
She slumped down on the bed, hot and confused. She wished she could cry now that she was home. But, paradoxically, now that she was alone, the tears remained hot and burning inside her eyes, refusing to give her the relief of a good cry.
Nadia reached under her pillow and pulled out her mother’s journal once more.
It was time to finish it, even if it kept her up all night.
