Maxim only gave me gifts on this date. Not Christmas, not my birthday, and certainly not just because. But on this day, the anniversary of the day everything had changed, he always gave me something.
“A flower for my flower,” he said, his voice heavy with his exertion.
He still didn’t look at me, but I smiled anyway, reminded anew that Maxim was one of the few who knew I shared my name with a flowering bush.
He always said that, and though his voice didn’t change, didn’t suggest that there was anything particularly meaningful about the words, I always welcomed them.
Which wasn’t to say Maxim wasn’t generous. He was, very, in fact. He’d taken care of all of my material needs and given me things I could have never dreamed of before I’d met him.
From the very first day he’d taken care of me, he gave me cash, credit cards, and let me buy whatever I wanted. He never picked anything for me himself and wasn’t the type to give trinkets and presents.
Except for today.
He always picked the flower out himself. Even five years ago when he’d been in the middle of a heated and bloody power struggle, he’d searched all of Bucharest until he’d found something he’d liked. I still had no idea why he went out of his way to do so, but just the thought of him doing so, the fact that he felt compelled to, always triggered the most pleasant warmth in my chest.
“Thank you, Maxim,” I said.
I didn’t say anything else, and ordinarily wouldn’t have waited for him to either.
This year I did. Stood there for long seconds, waiting as he continued to do his push-ups.
I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but when he didn’t look up, I left.
* * *
Maxim
I heard the door close softly behind her, but I continued with my push-ups, hadn’t looked at her once. I couldn’t because if I had looked at her, I would remember the sound of my name on her lips as she’d cried out, remember the shadow of her body through the fogged shower glass as she’d touched herself. I couldn’t think of that, had to forget it happened.
And I shouldn’t have given her the stupid flower.
It was a silly tradition, a meaningless indulgence, but I did it every year, and this year would be no different.
Because if I hadn’t given it to her, it would have been an acknowledgment, however minor, that what I had seen meant something, might lead me down the road of thinking I could have her. And that couldn’t be. Senna stayed with me for reasons I couldn’t really understand, and I treasured that. But it was nothing more.
I continued my push-ups as if the movement would make me believe the words, moving faster and faster until my arms gave out.
This was exactly why I should have left her to her fate in that small bathroom so long ago, why I should have been stronger over the years and sent her away. I maintained my distance, managed to keep my need for her from even myself, but doing so had only gotten harder, and might now be impossible after what I’d seen and heard.
When I looked at her now, I saw my little flower, the girl who had stared up at me with teary, brave eyes. Saw the woman who had been with me through all these years, as close to a companion as I had ever had and ever would.
But now things were different. Because I saw those things, remembered all those things, and now longed for something more.
Senna’s understated beauty had always been a given, as much a part of her as everything else. I’d noticed it, but abstractly before. It was no longer abstract. After what I’d seen, looking at her now touched me, threatened to shake something loose.
I had no time for it, no capacity to deal with it.
I had dedicated myself to the Syndicate. It was my life’s work, my only focus, and there was room for nothing else.
Yet, when I looked at Senna now, I wanted more. I wanted her. Completely, fully. I wanted everything.
But wanting was weakness, and weakness was death.
I started doing push-ups again.
Nine
Senna
This situation was becoming intolerable.
Maxim hadn’t uttered a word to me in days, and I was quickly losing my cool. I missed him, wanted to talk to him, but he was having none of it. He’d shut me out, pretended as though I wasn’t even here. He’d never done that before, ever, and I hated it. I didn’t have a right to expect anything from him, let alone demand it, but I couldn’t handle this icy, silent distance.
Maybe it was time to force the issue. I stood and walked down the stairs, thinking of some reason to talk to him as I went.
When I got downstairs, the heavy wood door to Maxim’s office opened, and a woman came out.
I froze, the urgency that had driven me down toward him leaving my mind instantly as I watched her.