• I remember the first time I picked him up at the airport. He was wearing a black leather jacket and black slacks. A white shirt, and Aqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani. He said that it was a Russian thing to wear it. I found this to be quite humorous because that specific cologne was sixty dollars a bottle--- and that was just when it was on sale.

    I remember him getting into the passenger seat as I sat in the back. My mother greeted him with, "hello Dmitry." She didn't like him very much because he wore real black leather, had a platinum Rolex on his left wrist, drank only premium Grey Goose Vodka, and drove a hybrid car. Mamma thought him to be spoiled.

    And I thought him to be the man of my dreams.

    Dmitry was four years older than I. He was twenty, and I was sixteen. I was in high school, and he had already finished college. He ran his own business, and he had plenty of women to chose from. I was naive enough to think that I might be lucky enough to peek his interest.

    Lucky wasn't exactly the right word.

    It was the day after Christmas when we picked him up. My mother and I are Jewish, so we really were milling around the mall for after Christmas sales. Dmitry was from the USSR, where they band religion. So he was practically Jewish. My mother went to Macy's, and left us alone. She trusted me with him.

    I don't think I could have messed up more.

    I had a boyfriend by the name of Ryan. Ryan and I had been together for seven months. I loved him, and he loved me more than words could express. But something picked at the back of my brain and told me that I could do better. I could have this Russian stud muffin, and be happy. It wasn't an impulse; it was a challenge.

    I dragged him into all sorts of stores that day. The day before, over MSN messenger he told me he hated shopping. Yet I never heard him complain. He hardly spoke, that day. Not until later, atleast.

    After a while, we got bored and met up with my mother. Got something to eat. Mamma said she had to work that night (she's an RN working grave yard) and that she wanted to go home. So we dropped her off, and went to check into his hotel.

    I don't know how he couldn't see this coming.

    We went up to the hotel room, he unpacked his things. Showed me all of his flying airplanes and helicopters. Showed me his super-laptop (I kid you not, this thing had everything. ) and showed me pictures of his family. They looked like fun. They looked like my kind of people. The kind of people who understood life, both ends of it, good and bad, and still had fun.

    After we looked at pictures, I hit him in the face with a pillow. Insert pillow fight here. I began to run my fingers through his hair. He groaned and told me that he hadn't had anyone do that to him in a while. He told me that he enjoyed it. And so I continued. I told him I would be back after work. And I was.

    I went back to the hotel at 9:30, half an hour after the store closed. We talked in the hotel room. Decided to go downstairs. Stuck our feet in the hottub. Boy, did it feel good. It wasn't hot. It was bath water warm and perfect. After fifteen minutes, I decided to just get in. And so he got in. And then about a half an hour later, he decided that he wanted Grey Goose

    So we get the Grey Goose.
    And we go back to the hotel room.
    Drink half a bottle.
    Tried to watch Beerfest.
    And fell asleep. Atleast, I thought I did.

    All I remember is neck biting. A lot of it. I remember me being extremely pleased with this, and him being more pleased. I remember climbing onto of him and kissing him. I remember looking at him and seeing my boyfriend's face. I stopped myself before it got too far. I told him that he wasn't attracted to me.

    He corrected me.

    From that night, I lied to Ryan. I still loved him. I still do. I slept in a bed with Dmitry and woke up next to him. Hanging out of a fifteen story window would have never made me feel so alive. I did not regret leaving Ryan.

    But something wasn't right, still...

    I guess you could say that I was still confused.
    Last Monday, I cheated on Dmitry.
    With Ryan.
    I was still confused about how I felt towards Ryan. I went over to his house that Monday. Did the deed. Couldn't keep it from that silly Russian. It went downhill from there.

    I told him that I cheated on him.
    He told me he was surprised.
    I told him that I was sorry
    He told me that he needed to make a decision.
    I told him I already knew what his answer was going to be.
    And he told me what I didn't want to hear.

    Three days pass..three days of him yelling at me, three days of me yelling at him. Three days of the same argument. Three days of me begging him to take me back. Three days of him begging to be left alone, that he needed space.


    And then there was today.

    Today I talked to Kellie, my English teacher. She helped me out a little. Put my head on straight for me. I called Dmitry today. I told him that he could call me when he decided he wanted to try again. Or that he found the girl of his dreams. He said alright. And then he hung up.

    Ryan called me to make sure I was okay. I sang to him like I had sang to Dmitry so many times before. I asked Ryan to do me one more favor, and ask Dmitry if he wanted me to sing for him one more time. I received on last phone call from him. I sang Two Atoms in a Molecule (Noah and the Whale), Body (Mother Mother), Sweat Potato (Sia), The Last Day of Our Love (The Bird and the Bee), and Lady (by Regina Spektor). I told him that he didn't have to listen anymore. He told me that he never had to listen in the first place. That he liked it when I sang to him.
    I told him I was sorry, and that I was going to miss him.
    He said that he would miss me too.
    "I love you," I said to him.

    Pause.

    ...No Response.

    I took in a breath to sigh and say goodnight, and then he said it.

    "I love you, too, Leah."

    I told him not to stress out at work. I told him that I would do good in school.

    "Ya Tebya Lyublyu, moy Dmitry."

    He said something back, but I hadn't learned enough Russian to tell...For all I know, he could have said that he hated me. I said farewell. Hung up the phone. Deleted his number, and cried one last time for him.

    Ya Tebya Lyublyu.

    I love you.