Lara Vapnyar - Still Here

He walked into the living room and surveyed the place. Most of his furniture was already gone. There were just a few pieces left along with a few items of his sports equipment. There was a sense of bareness and open space to the apartment that Vadik hadn’t had a chance to enjoy before. In two days, he would be gone to start his life anew in another foreign, unlived, perfectly clean space. He had never been to Singapore and he knew very little about it, which would make his fresh start even fresher. He had made the mistake of trying so hard to fit in, first in Moscow, then in Istanbul, then in New York. He would make no such claim on Singapore. He would just try to enjoy the foreignness of the place for as long as it was enjoyable.

Vadik counted his bottles of booze again. One, two, three, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift.

He went to the kitchen, defrosted the dumplings and the edamame, put them on a tray, and carried the tray back into the living room. He put it right in the middle of the rug.

There was a forceful ring of the doorbell.

Bob, Vadik thought. Nobody else rang the doorbell with such poise.

“Am I the first to arrive?” Bob asked.

“Yep,” Vadik said.

It had been a little awkward between them since Vadik announced his decision to leave DigiSly.

“Of course, man, I get it,” Bob had said to him. “You need a change of atmosphere.” But there was hurt and incomprehension in his eyes. It was clear that he struggled to understand how anybody could want to leave such a cool job under such a wonderful boss. They shared a common pain though, and that was Sergey’s success. Bob was suffering from a bad case of FOMO, even though he kept saying that he stood by his word that Virtual Grave didn’t have a chance to become hugely successful.

“It’s not a success yet, far from it,” Sergey said to Vadik when they were having drinks. “There is no way of knowing if there will be any revenue.”

But what had happened was better than financial success, and they both knew it. Sergey had created something from scratch, something he was passionate about; he had fought for it with all his might and he had won. While Vadik was back to square one, starting his life anew yet again.

“This looks nice and airy,” Bob said, walking into the living room and taking in the emptiness.

“Vodka?” Vadik asked.

“Sure!” Bob said.

“Is a coffee mug okay? I sold all my glasses.”

“A coffee mug of vodka would be very welcome!” Bob said. “With ice, please.”

Vadik handed him a mug with the words #1 BOYFRIEND. He couldn’t remember whether it was a gift from Rachel II, the sane Sofia, or Abby. He poured a generous portion for himself into a mug with a picture of the Empire State Building on it.

They sat down right on the rug and took a few sips in silence. Bob picked up a dumpling on a fork and bit off about half of it.

Both Bob and Vadik were visibly struggling to find a conversation topic.

“Did you find an apartment in Singapore?” Bob asked.

“The company found one for me.”

Vadik’s fortieth birthday was coming up a week after he was supposed to arrive in Singapore. He would have to celebrate it on his own. Fuck, that was depressing. He needed Bob to change the topic.

“So what’s the process now with that little girl?”

“Nastya? We’re working on her immigration papers. I have pretty solid connections, so everything should go smoothly on this side. Especially compared to the Russian bureaucratic nightmare. Regina is going back there in a week, and if all goes well, I’d say we could bring Nastya over in a couple of months.”

“Great!” Vadik said. “You must be excited.”

Bob swirled the ice in his mug and looked Vadik in the eye.

“To tell you the truth, man, I’m fucking terrified. Raising your own kid is tough. But a kid from an orphanage…”

“Regina said you’ve been very chipper throughout the whole thing.”

“Well, I had to put on a brave face for her sake.”

“But you are really sure this adoption is the right thing to do?” Vadik asked. He remembered Regina’s telling him that Bob strongly believed in doing the “right things.”

“The right thing?” Bob asked. “Do you think there is the right thing to do for every situation? I don’t! No, I’m not sure. Not at all! But that little girl, Vadik! My heart just goes out to her. And I think it’s what Regina really wants too.”

“It’ll be okay, Bob. I can feel that it will,” Vadik said, and they clinked their mugs.

The vulnerable, terrified Bob was somebody Vadik didn’t have the chance to know. They could’ve been closer. Vadik felt a momentary regret, which was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the doorbell.

Vadik got up to let in Regina and Vica.

“Vadik!” Vica said. “Look how thin you are!”

They hadn’t seen each other in months. Vica had felt that it was important not to aggravate things with Sergey.

“She’s right,” Regina confirmed. “Let’s hope they’ll fatten you up in Singapore.”

Vadik went to retrieve two more mugs: one that had the figure of a jazz musician leaning back with his sax, and the other that simply said MOMA. He poured some vodka into each and handed the mugs to Regina and Vica.

“Isn’t your birthday coming up?” Regina asked.

“Yep,” Vadik said. “I’ll be in Singapore.”

“We’ll make a virtual party for you!” Vica said. “We’ll go to a resturant together and you’ll be with us via Skype.”

Great, I’ll be like a ghost, Vadik thought. Fortunately, Vica found a diversion.

“What’s in there?” she asked, pointing to the huge plastic container in the corner.

“Random junk that didn’t sell. Take anything you want.”

Vadik dragged the container closer and put it in the middle of the rug next to the food.

“What’s that?” Bob asked, pointing to the wooden handle sticking out of the container.

“My first tennis racket,” Vadik said.

“It can’t be!”

Bob reached for the racket and took his time examining it.

“My father used to have one exactly like that. I’ve seen it among his things.” He stroked the rough surface with his fingers.

Regina leaned into Bob and kissed him on the cheek. “You should take it, honey. It will be a nice memento.”

“Can I?” Bob asked.

“Sure,” Vadik said.

“Thank you, Vadik,” Bob said and put the racket in his lap.

“And I’ll take these pretty dishes and this pot and — what is this, a vase?” Vica said.

“It’s yours.”

By the time Sergey arrived, they were all digging through Vadik’s stuff, getting a little tipsy and laughing.

“Drinking and pillaging, huh?” Sergey said. “I want in!”

Vadik handed him a mug with Warhol’s Marilyn on it.

“Hey,” Sergey said, pointing to the tennis racket, “isn’t it your first racket?”

“Is it? I thought Vadik was kidding,” Bob said.

Vadik picked the racket up and ran his fingers over the rough surface of the head. He bought it a few weeks after he had arrived in the country. Vica had explained to him that all middle-class Americans enjoyed playing tennis, and if he wanted to fit in, he would have to learn. Sergey had offered to teach him. “Rackets are expensive, buy one on eBay,” Vica had said. Vadik had had no idea what a tennis racket looked like. He had bought that one because it was the cheapest. Only twenty dollars.

“Oh, yeah, I remember,” Vica said. “He brought it to our court on Staten Island so that Sergey could teach him. Here we are, all ready to play, and Vadik produces this monstrosity! I mean, he was really going to play with it!” Vica was laughing so hard that she almost spilled her drink.