My Nikasha,


It is dark and cold in Moscow without you. I miss you, how are you? Your secretary tells me I cannot write directly, or call, that there is no release of information. So I have sent my letter to the MVD, and she has promised to forward it. I hope it reaches you.

I have been watering your orchids, not too much, just enough, as you showed me.

The canary you bought me is still singing all day, as if it does not matter that winter makes the days short and cruel. It is the most beautiful color of rose over yellow against the grey world outside.

I sleep in your bed nights, and I wear your robe in the morning to cook myself breakfast. Don't laugh, Nika! It makes me feel better.

Your friend, your Captain.

I have seen him, once, in Moscow. He was walking along the stroll, gazing up at our house, and he paused to light a cigarette. I was coming home from the market, and he spied me. I narrowed my eyes and said nothing.

How could I have known, Nika, when he said he loved me, that he was lying? I know you have never said a harsh word to me for it- I know you told me long ago that I was free to seek solace and love beyond our marital contract. Even though I never had, until he came to me with words, so like yours. All the things I secretly wished you would say, he said.

I know you were angry with him, for tricking me into his bed, and exposing me as an adultress.

But I cannot shake this feeling, Nikasha- that it was not about me at all.

It was you he wanted to steal, to secure for himself.

I know you said he was always a jealous comrade, and that he resented having never been told that you had a wife...but...I cannot help but think, even now, that there is more to it than that.

When he looked up- the gleam in his eyes at the sight of you, like everything else in the room no longer mattered. The way he looked at you, and seized your arm. The way he entreated.

Have you never thought...that perhaps...it was always about you? That perhaps...no, I should stop there. This is wrong of me to speculate.

I have been reading by the fire with the cat on my lap, and taking walks and lunches with the neighbor-wives. It is nice to miss you, sometimes, even when it hurts- because I know when I see you there will be all the more joy.

I love you, despite and still.

Your wife,

Nina