Milana
The next few days pass enveloped in such melancholy that it makes me want to howl. So, at some point, my father's suggestion doesn't seem so repulsive anymore. I reflect on it. Yes, I truly wanted to take some time to sort out my feelings and thoughts, to decide what to do next, but unexpectedly, I find that the oppressive silence in the apartment is more than I can handle.
When I could no longer fight my own curiosity and started looking up any information about Andriy and the scandal that unfolded, saying goodbye to peace was inevitable. Luckily, I learned that the police had already started investigating the case because the explosion prompted a deeper inquiry. I just keep my fingers crossed, hoping Andriy will conduct a thorough staff purge, because I am sure that Lukash could not have acted alone.
Finally, a week passes since my return to Lviv, seven damn days that were filled only with thoughts, searching for facts, analyzing everything I found, and self-tormenting… Because, of course, I couldn't stop thinking that he is now with her… So today, I made up my mind.
" Hello, Dad.
" Hi, sweetheart. How are you? "his caring voice warms my soul.
" I agree, " I blurted out.
Dad stays silent for a moment. He doesn't ask what exactly I agree to. In insightfulness, my father has always been strong.
" Great, I'll call Ihor right away.
" Um..., " I stutter, but he is already finishing the call, and I just blankly stare at my smartphone screen.
That's what I call promptness. He decided not to give me even the slightest chance to change my mind and refuse. If only he knew how I'm slowly going crazy, he might not have rushed so much...But no, I definitely won't back down. No. I need communication, I need to occupy myself with work, to distract myself, to minimize the moments of loneliness.
A few minutes later, my phone vibrates in my hand, and I mechanically accept the call when I see the name "Dad" on the screen.
" Everything is fine, dear. Ihor couldn't believe it when I told him about your desire to work at our company.
" Thank you, Dad," I say ironically, but my father isn't offended. Instead, I can hear his pleased laughter through the speaker.
After a bit more conversation, Dad decides to crush me with the final "gift":
" By the way, sweetie. I gave Ihor your phone number, so don't be surprised that he will call. I'll send his number to you on Viber right now.
" Uh, " I just let out. " The matchmaker role doesn't suit you, Dad.
" It was your mom's idea," he says slyly and rushes to end the conversation. " Alright, Milana. We'll talk some more. " Take care of yourself," he hung up quickly.
“Wow. They picked a time to 'not push'." I think sarcastically, and a moment later, a notification about a new message flashes. I roll my eyes but save Ihor's number.
Evening comes, and he doesn't call until then, for which I internally give him a thumbs up, considering he had tried to woo me several times before, and last time I had personally deleted my number from his contacts.
God, when was that...? Memories storm into my consciousness:
"I've known Ihor almost all my life." Our parents were friends and ran a business together, yet he and I couldn't exactly connect on a friendly level. Maybe because I was preoccupied with studies in school, and when we went to get higher education, I chose Lviv University*, and he studied at the Polytechnic, so our paths didn't cross.
It was only in the last year, practically before defending my thesis, that we were invited to celebrate his father's anniversary. That's where Ihor saw not just a long-time friend and a geek in me, but a woman."
I recall that period and involuntarily smile. I only saw him as a friend. I was focused on defending my thesis, so briefly speaking, I had other worries. But he really set his sights on me. And so it began:
"Invitations to parties or just to grab a coffee, no matter, just to get me out somewhere. At first, his attention flattered me, but it later started to annoy me. And the longer it lasted, the more aggravating the situation became. Finally, I graduated from university with honors, and my parents began hinting at the idea of working at my father's company, but I waved it off.
Of course, I had just received the keys to my own place and was tasting freedom. I wanted to enjoy it, live for myself, and finally feel what it's like when you set your own goals and pursue them.
Then the real problems with parents began, and of course, Ihor offered his solid male support...
When the period of rebellion prolonged, and he didn't move from the 'vest' status to something more, he started accusing me of just using his goodness, giving him hope, and playing with his feelings. And, perhaps, he was partly right..."
I regret my severity then. But then another memory comes to mind. Our last meeting. And the feeling of irritation seeps under my skin even now:
"I was partying in the club with my new friends when he arrived. Somehow, he decided he had the right to take me from there and drive me to the apartment. Boldly pulling by the hand. When I tried to slap him, to my astonishment, he kissed me. And indeed received that slap.
That was when I made my position very clear regarding him. And, perhaps, a tad severe. Especially when I deleted his number and banned him from ever calling me..."
Hmm. Sure, back then I was much more impulsive. I hope he has long forgotten about that episode.
The sound of the smartphone interrupts my thoughts. I walk to the table, pick up the phone, and answer the call.
" Hi, Ihor," I greeted him warmly.
" Hello, beauty. Long time, huh..., " his raspy voice doesn’t match the boy I remember.
" Yes, quite some time has passed...," I go on. " I never got the chance to apologize for that slap...," I smile awkwardly.
" Oh, come on, Milana, " he laughs through the phone. " It's alright. Don't say you've been tormented by guilt for years.
Catching onto his jolly tone:
" Well, I would exaggerate if I say I was, but that episode did bother me. So I am sorry..
" Forget it, kiddo. No problem, " at that moment, the nickname he used for me since school, surprisingly, doesn't irritate me. It only brings back nostalgia for relatively carefree times.
" Thank you, Ihor, " I say sincerely.
" So, well. Viktorovych said you could start tomorrow, right?
" Yes, I can.
" Great. How about friendly tea today? " he asks kindly, then chuckles and adds. " No strings attached, kiddo. Those times are long gone.
I ponder for a fraction of a second, then realize that coming out of my shell is very much needed. Rekindling communication is a great idea.
" I would love to.
" Glad to hear, " he laughs. " So, when should I pick you up?
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* refers to Ivan Franko National University of Lviv