This is my life:
It's late, and I just finished watching the sixth episode of Meine Liebe, and I'm sitting on my bed under the covers, doing math homework and eating strawberry jam from the jar and ice-cream (my favorite: Brayers', Sara Lee Cheesecake) from the one-gallon bucket. The door in the hall snaps shut, and I can hear Kat's voice and a guy answering her. I keep eating and writing, thinking about Nick and tomorrow's English class, listening to the quiet conversation-noises from the kitchen. Kat comes in for a brief hello, then goes back to her friend. I assume it's either John or Franco, since they are the ones who live nearby (I think that it's probably John, because Franco's visits are usually much louder).
When I'm done with my homework, I take the bucket of ice-cream (all soft and melt-y around the edges) and go to the kitchen to put it back in the freezer. John's broad back greets me with a faint hello and I automatically hey, there him in return. Then I go to sleep.
In the morning, while I am making coffee and trying to wake up enough to get myself out of the door and onto a train, Kat tells me in a sleepy voice how much it sucks when a guy and a girl want to have sex and don't have condoms. I tell her to buy a pack and ask John over for a study session.
I wonder if they are going to do it, and if they do, will their relationship become strained when they stop. Also, will they have a threesome with Nickie, or is John going to stop having sex with Kat to have sex with Nickie, or are they going to take turns. These are weird thoughts, and I feel like I should stop thinking them, but at the same time I don’t think any of it really matters. What will happen will happen. The rest is either history or nothing at all.
And I think about you, of course. About tommorrow: I'll wake up early and go to the post office to get my laptop (I think it's finally going to work). Then I'll come home, make myself a cup of coffee, turn on the computer, put on the headphones and launch ICQ. I think about that and I smile and I can't wait. Because I miss you even when I don't. Because I think about you even when I am busy doing something else. You know what that's like. Your presence has become my second shadow. I dream of Moscow and sun-lit streets and sad-looking trees in half-wild parks. I dream of places I could take you and of holding your hand and being held by you. I am waiting for the summer.
It's getting easier to write in English instead of (not in addition to) Russian. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not.