Cold War

Graham had fantasised about this moment many times. He had practiced speeches in his head. Now that the moment had come, however, he could find not a single word. He reached into his pocket, removed the little box, and turning it towards Jasha, opened it so the diamonds glinted in the sinking sun.

Jasha answered with a gasp. Graham smiled, thinking that was a gesture of surprised delight. Then he realised she had put her hands over her mouth and was shaking her head.

The light went out of the sun and the garden turned to ashes. His mouth went dry and his ears deaf. He slowly drew the box back, shut the lid and put it away in his pocket. Why did he do this to himself? Why did he mistake pity for love? Why couldn’t he accept that women didn’t want a deformed and ugly man? Would he never learn?

He was so lost in his own misery that it was several seconds before he realised that Jasha was silently sobbing beside him. He gazed at her, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand,” he murmured.

“I make mistake! I wrong!”

“It’s not your mistake,” Graham told her in a leaden voice. “I shouldn’t have presumed. I’ll get over it. I always have before.” He didn’t mean to sound bitter; he just couldn’t help himself.

“No! Not understand!” Jasha cried out, tears now gushing from her eyes. “I love you! I love you! I want to — spend life — with you! Garden and cook and laugh and talk. Together. But I did bad thing.” She looked as miserable as he felt. His instinct was to put his arm around her shoulders, but he was too confused to dare.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “If you want to be together, why reject my proposal?”

“Because you don’t know about Russians,” she gasped out.

“What don’t I know about the Russians?” he asked back, baffled.

She started stammering, “At end of war — hungry — we needed food. They surrounded us. So many of them. We couldn’t get away. Screamed but no one help, and—”

Understanding hit him like lightning. He put a finger to Jasha’s lips to silence her. She gazed at him with wet, red eyes filled with fear, pain and hope. He bent and kissed her forehead, then pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. She turned her face into his chest and pressed it against his sweaty shirt and started to relax in his arms. After a moment, she lifted her head and looked him in the face, demanding confirmation of what she sensed. “You don’t mind?”

“I mind very much! It horrifies me and makes me angry and makes me hate the Russians more than I did before. I wish I could have prevented it. I wish I could erase every memory and every scar they left behind. But it doesn’t make me love you less.” He paused as another thought hit him. He absorbed it and sought to sound reassuring as he added, “If you are trying to say you can’t face consummation, I can understand and accept that. I would be happy if you would agree just to garden and talk and grow old together.”

“Not understand,” Jasha admitted, drawing away and looking at him with a puzzled frown. “What is con – conmunition?”

He was bewildered until he realised his mistake. “Consummation. Don’t worry about it. I’m saying we can live together like brother and sister if you prefer.”

She shook her head and declared firmly, “I want to be wife, but afraid. Maybe not so good in bed.”

“Probably neither am I,” Graham admitted with a self-deprecating smile. Then he pulled her back into his arms. She lifted her face to him, and they kissed, tenderly at first but then with growing passion. When they pulled apart, they were both smiling through their tears.

Jasha pulled a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and blew her nose, while Graham reached for the ring box and presented it again. Jasha still shook her head, but this time she was laughing too. “Hand dirty!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands. “Must wash, change. Then you give me ring!”

Graham laughed. “My practical Jasha! Yes, we’ll go up to the house and wash and change and then I’ll make a proper proposal.” He stuffed the ring back in his pocket a second time. They helped each other to their feet and walked hand-in-hand back to the house.