Karen Cleveland - Need to Know

“What do you want, Viv?” Matt asked.

I looked over at him, his features muted now in the dusk. “A fresh start.”

He nodded, waited for me to go on.

“I want time with the kids.”

“I want you to have that. We’ll make it work.”

“And I don’t want any more lies.”

He shook his head. “Neither do I.”

I ran a finger through the sand, drew a wavy line. “Is there anything else I should know? Anything you’re still hiding?”

He shook his head again, more adamantly this time. “Everything’s on the table. You know it all.”

We were quiet for a few moments, then he opened his mouth to say something, closed it again. I could feel his hesitation.

“What is it?”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, the job. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are, and you’re doing such important work….” He gave his head a quick shake. “Now’s not the time to talk about it. I just want you to make the right choice, the one that’ll make you happy.”

Then he shifted so that he was facing me. He took my hands, stood, pulled me up to my feet with him. His words were echoing in my head, the ambivalence I’d felt for all those years creeping back into my conscience. Then he pulled me close, gently, his hands on my waist. And I realized he was right about one thing, at least; this wasn’t the time to talk about it. I’d have a year to think. I wrapped my arms around him.

“Remember our first dance?” he said softly.

“I remember,” I said. And in that moment, I was transported. The two of us, on the dance floor, swaying to the music, his hands around my waist. Feeling warm and happy and so, so in love. Surrounded by tables full of people, one familiar face after another.

“Look around,” I had said to him. I pulled back slightly so I could look at his face. “Isn’t this amazing? Everyone we love is here. My family, your family. Our friends. When is this ever going to happen again?”

He didn’t look. He stared at me, intense.

“Look around,” I prompted again.

He didn’t. “You and me,” he said. “That’s all I see. That’s all that matters. You and me.”

I’d stared at him, confused by his intensity, the urgency in his voice. He pulled me closer, and I rested my head against his chest, anxious to escape that look.

“The vows I said to you, I meant every word,” he told me. “No matter what happens in the future, never forget that. If things get… rough… just remember. Everything is for us. Everything I do, for the rest of my life, it’ll be for us.”

“I won’t forget,” I murmured, certain I never would, and at the same time wondering if the words would ever make sense.

And as we swayed on the beach to the music of the waves, I put my head on his chest again, just as I did all those years before. I felt his warmth, heard his heartbeat. “I didn’t forget,” I whispered.

“Everything I did, I did it for us,” he said. “For our family.”

I turned my head to the side so that I could see our kids, now hardly more than shadows against the darkening sky. “So did I.” I pulled him closer. “So did I.”

“I’M GOING BACK,” I SAY.

The words sound right. The decision sounds right.

The fact of the matter is, I’ve missed it. I’ve missed the thrill of opening up new intelligence reports, the anticipation, the feeling that a big break might be right around the corner. That any minute, I could piece together a puzzle that would help my country.

I did work hard to get where I am. And it’s part of my identity, part of what makes me me .

“You had me worried there for a minute,” Omar says. I see the relief on his face. “They’re giving you even more access, you know. We’ll be able to accomplish a lot together. Start our own back channel, share information between our agencies, all that data that’s needlessly restricted. We can really make a difference.”

That’s what I want, isn’t it? Always have, ever since joining the Agency. But I don’t feel the anticipation I thought I’d feel. The excitement. I don’t feel much at all.

“I might be deputy director, but my heart’s always going to be in Russian CI.”

I nod. A sense of unease is creeping over me. Did I make the right decision? It wouldn’t be too late to change my mind.

“And besides, you owe me.” The way he says it, the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding. But the truth is, I do owe him. All those times he protected me, broke rules for me, shared information he shouldn’t have. I’d be in jail if it weren’t for him. Matt and I both would be.

We sit in silence for a few awkward moments, then he cocks his head, gives me a long look. “Are you sure this is what you want, Vivian?”

My mind goes to the kids, even though I don’t want it to. But my babies aren’t babies anymore. I had a year at home with them, that time I’d always wanted. I try to push them from my mind.

A year ago, I would have said no. But the more time that’s passed, the more certain I’ve become. All the reasons are there. It’s the right choice.

“I’m sure.”

I CLOSE THE DOORbehind Omar and stand for a moment in the silence. There’s a sadness settling over me, a vague sense of regret. And it doesn’t quite make sense, because I’ve had plenty of time to think this through.

I hear Matt come into the room and don’t turn. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist. “So?” he says. “Did you make a decision?”

I nod. There’s still a hint of uncertainty in my mind, a sense that maybe I’ve chosen wrong, but he warned me I might feel that way, the last time we talked about it. “I’m going back.”

He lowers his head into the space between my neck and my shoulder, the spot that always sends a shiver running through me, and I can feel him smile. “I think you made the right choice.”

Omar walks high on the ridgeline, the ocean to his left, helicopter straight ahead, set down on a barren stretch of dirt and patchy grass. He pulls a cellphone from his pocket. Presses a button, holds it to his ear.

“Zdravstvuj,” he says in greeting . And then he listens.

“Da,” he says as he walks. Another pause, and then he switches to English. “She’s going back. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” He listens to the response. “A few months, maybe. But it’ll be worth the wait.”

He glances behind him, a quick glance, just to be sure there’s still no one there.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, and then a moment later: “A long game, indeed.” A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Dosvedanya.”

He takes the phone away from his ear, presses a button. He’s close to the helicopter now, and the pilot’s started the propellers. They begin to whir, slowly at first, and then faster, until there’s an almost deafening thump-thump-thump.

Without breaking his stride, he throws the phone down into the great expanse of ocean below, where it falls swiftly toward the jagged rocks. He jogs the next few steps, until he’s at the helicopter, swinging himself inside. And then it takes off, lifting high into the air.

He watches below as it turns out toward the ocean. Sees the crescent beach, Vivian and the four kids. She has one of the twins on her hip, leaning her head close to his, pointing to the helicopter. The other three surround her, their play momentarily paused as they watch the sky.

He sees their house, the little box with the angled roof. Matt, on the back terrace, watching the copter approach, forearms leaning on the rail and shirt billowing in the breeze.