Yesterday My Phone Died
Yesterday my phone died.
Svetlana advised me to use her old Philips phone.
I thought. Good advice. Took out her old SIM card and old memory card. Wasn't in the mood to snoop.
Until I was. The phone memory itself remained. As did a message from March 6, 2017 just a few months after my 'reconciliation' with Svetlana.
I stayed up all night after finding that March 6 2017 text message from Alexander Tregubov to Svetlana.
You see Alexander once poisoned me... ...and Svetlana knew. That was 2011.
I called her today just before 11 a.m. after maybe three hours of sleep. We talked about mundane things, the weather, her call with our son yesterday, her need to go out and buy bread this morning, her mother being so fat, not moving.
I didn't mention my discovery of the text message from Tregubov. I described to her becoming acquainted with the new Internations ambassador and that the other two, Alexandro and Viktoria had left. I held it together.
And I broke into tears as soon as I hung up the phone. Memories had flooded back last night and again this morning while on the phone. My being poisoned by her Tregubov. My attempt to save myself by saving that prostitute Genya Kosheleva and her little son. Knowing that Svetlana had known all that time what I had gone through. The blackness of her heart, of the human heart. Listening to her voice, I recognized again why I had chased after her, leaving my wife, moving to Russia on the last day of July in 1996.
The tears stopped. I watched a video on YouTube about Pistol Pete Maravich. I checked my twitter, facebook, and emails. No coffee.
I imagined how difficult and unfair for our son this whole goddamn affair had been and would always be. Unless I push it, push it real good, we will never get to honesty. It's nothing I'll try today.
Svetlana advised me to use her old Philips phone.
I thought. Good advice. Took out her old SIM card and old memory card. Wasn't in the mood to snoop.
Until I was. The phone memory itself remained. As did a message from March 6, 2017 just a few months after my 'reconciliation' with Svetlana.
I stayed up all night after finding that March 6 2017 text message from Alexander Tregubov to Svetlana.
You see Alexander once poisoned me... ...and Svetlana knew. That was 2011.
I called her today just before 11 a.m. after maybe three hours of sleep. We talked about mundane things, the weather, her call with our son yesterday, her need to go out and buy bread this morning, her mother being so fat, not moving.
I didn't mention my discovery of the text message from Tregubov. I described to her becoming acquainted with the new Internations ambassador and that the other two, Alexandro and Viktoria had left. I held it together.
And I broke into tears as soon as I hung up the phone. Memories had flooded back last night and again this morning while on the phone. My being poisoned by her Tregubov. My attempt to save myself by saving that prostitute Genya Kosheleva and her little son. Knowing that Svetlana had known all that time what I had gone through. The blackness of her heart, of the human heart. Listening to her voice, I recognized again why I had chased after her, leaving my wife, moving to Russia on the last day of July in 1996.
The tears stopped. I watched a video on YouTube about Pistol Pete Maravich. I checked my twitter, facebook, and emails. No coffee.
I imagined how difficult and unfair for our son this whole goddamn affair had been and would always be. Unless I push it, push it real good, we will never get to honesty. It's nothing I'll try today.
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