Here he goes

I had only a hundred dollars cash and I forgot it home. Left it on the kitchen table along with my passport, student ID, credit card, a dear little photo of my Mom and a tiny pencil from Ikea. Later that night, while my Greyhound bus, full of farmers and snoring football fans, was bravely passing through Illinois and Indiana, I got this simple message from my brother.

"Haven't you forgotten anything?"

I was at the toilet of some 24-hours store, where we had stopped to get late night burgers and a Coka. It was about New Year time and absolutely no snow anywhere. Someone mad outside was loudly knocking on my door, telling me to rush. But I was all into that message, trying to understand how could I forgot that photo! And a passport. But the photo was more important, I had been taking selfies with that piece of picture everywhere I go. It was our trip together. Me and my Mommy.

Also she was keeping my money safe. A hundred was wrapped into the old receipt and glued behind the picture. I knew I could never forget her anywhere. But I did. And that is why I couldn't make myself put my pants on and get out of that place.

That night I was on my way to North Carolina. Where a man was waiting for me. My accidental lover. Two years ago after a night out, we met one morning near the park. He was a poet and an artist, he had come there at the dawn to see how the sun is "waking up and trying to open its little eyes". I came there by accident, my drunk legs were leading me to some quite place, just to lay on the grass and feel the freshness of it. So we met. And had an accidental date, which was followed by a two days affair at his cottage on the top of the hill. Walls made of glass, colors of night Stockholm, wine and his poem made my cynical and hard soul melt. But it was two years ago.

Now I was stuck at that toilet without the picture of my dear Mom and surrounded by deep Indiana night outside. Later the bus was flying through the states and snow had begun to fly with us, but I couldn't sleep. Thinking about how to get all my things back.

My Swedish man met me two days later in North Carolina. He had been chasing me all over the world, trying to put us together. But now he went too far. He told me:

"Taisia, my dear love, we are going to my apartments now. Tomorrow you should dress really well and brush your hair. I am going to introduce you to my family. My well-respected dad and my adorable mama arrived yesterday here hoping to meet my lovely bride. I mean - you".

If you think I was thrilled when I heard it - you know nothing. I was absolutely shocked, got dumb for a minute, my eyes get to my forehead and I couldn't move my fingers.

My documents were forgotten at my brother's place at New York. I have the very last dollar. In my backpack is only a second sweater and my boots. I am here without my Momma and even without her picture. I am in love with a Russian man, waiting for me home. I am about to be sick and I want to sleep as to eat as well. And this is not all. Tomorrow I am going to get dressed well and meet at some fancy restaurant the conservative Swedish parents of my accidental lover, whom I haven't seen for two years. And he wants me to be his wife. Well, he never asked, there is still a chance he is kidding.

Those were my thoughts before I fell asleep. He woke me up at six am, he was whispering.

"Taisiia, wake up. You don't want to miss the sunrise". He was playing a Mozart piece from his vinyl player, slowly opening the curtains (with a striptease face), and he brought me a plate full of strawberries in chocolate for the breakfast.

To be honest, I haven't woken up before lunch time for at least a couple months since I lost my job. It was a complete misunderstanding, I wanted to fall under the ground in that soft bed I was laying on.

We made it going till the evening of that day. I lied I am sick, we didn't go to meet his parents, I spend more than half an hour in the bathroom, he said I was wasting water and that I need to learn how to safe money if I was going to be his wife.

But I was not. I was none of what he wanted me to be and I wasn't going to be his wife. He left to buy me some healthy food. I got my backpack and run away.

North Carolina was empty and madly cold and windy. The river looked like it was ready to take me in. I saw people celebrating holidays in their houses and thought about the picture of my Mom and about the hundred dollars behind it. At the central square I met a man. He had different color of skin than mine. He was two times older than me. We sat there and talked. He was a poet and and an artist, he said he had a house at the top of the hill with the glass windows from the ceiling to the floor.