Free All Russians Love Birch Trees by Olga Grjasnowa

silent.
    “My brother works for the secret service!” Sibel yelled, as I fumbled with the fuse box. I was almost as scared as she was, if for different reasons.
    When I came home from school the next day, Sibel was gone. She had taken with her her shimmery dresses, hair clips, cosmetics, and perfume samples, as well as my passport, my insurance card, and cash.

11
    I met with Sami in a small cider bar that smelled of beer and frying oil. Nonetheless it seemed to be very popular with the local alcoholics and tourists. We sat at the last free table, right by the swinging door that led to the kitchen and the bathrooms. The regulars wore sweatpants and sweatshirts. A group of Irish tourists provided some variety, commenting loudly on their hotel and World War II. Older gentlemen with reddish faces and good spirits. I forgot who had suggested this as a meeting place, Sami or me. At least we wouldn’t run into anyone we knew.
    Two waitresses lingered behind the bar, giggling. The older one sported a leathery tan and blue eyeliner.The younger looked like she still stood a chance. Although the bar was packed, they didn’t have a lot to do. The guests didn’t order much. The younger one glanced at Sami and approached our table.
    Earlier, Elias had sat on the sofa while I got ready. I’d put on a tight dress, rouge, and a bit of perfume behind the ears. All for another guy. Where was I going? he’d asked. I’m meeting Sami, I’d answered, and tried to hide my nervousness. But Elias understood anyway. Angrily remained silent. He had used up all his energy on the fifteen steps it took him to get from our bedroom to the living room.
    Now, sitting across from Sami, I remained quiet, still feeling Elias’s eyes on me. A cross adorned with rhinestones dangled over the waitress’s generous cleavage. Both of us ordered cider, although neither of us liked it.
    “My visa application was rejected,” Sami said. Deep shadows hung under his eyes. He sat across from me with hanging shoulders and held my hands in his.
    “Again?”
    The waitress placed the two ciders in front of us and smiled at Sami, but he ignored her flirtation. The glasses were scratched. Sami had been my first boyfriend. Before him, love had always ended in rejection.
    “Now what?” I said.
    “I’ll definitely lose this semester. I just hope it won’t be an entire year. I don’t want to be thrown out of the Ph.D. program.” His voice sounded tired and uncertain. In the past he’d been the stronger one, always busy and determined. The one who blazed his trail undeterred.
    I wanted to say something encouraging, anything that would wipe away his resigned expression. “Do you think they’d throw you out?” I asked instead and bit my lip.
    He gave a little laugh: “It would be a miracle if they didn’t.”
    Sami clinked his glass with mine and drank. I had expected that the meeting would be strange, or at least awkward, but everything felt natural. I stroked Sami’s cheek. He turned my hand over and pulled it closer to his nose.
    “You smell good.”
    “I smell like I always do.”
    “That’s what I mean.”
    I pulled my hand back, shifting nervously on my chair.
    Sami put his hands on the table, looked at them, and said: “I can’t sleep. I drift off, but in the middle of the night I get up again. Wide awake. I lie on the couch in my parents’ living room and can’t figure things out. I don’t know what to do with myself. I pace theapartment, read magazines and novels. Mostly Russian ones.” Sami paused and looked me directly in the eyes. I didn’t avoid his gaze.
    “My apartment in the States is empty. My sister is sleeping in my old childhood room. I’m neither here nor there. If I knew at least how long I have to stay, I would get a room. Do something. Not vegetate in constant transit.”
    “And during the day? What do you do then?”
    “I try to make progress on my research. But that’s ridiculous. In the morning I go to the library and