“Promise me something,” The Magician said one morning over coffee.
“Anything,” I said, meeting his eye.
“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” The problem with his visa had unsettled him. He’d become obsessed with the idea of being separated from me.
“I won’t leave you,” I said. “I won’t leave. I’m here.”
“I can’t make it through this lifetime if you’re not at my side. I’ve lost you before. I can feel it. We’ve known one another in a different life, and this is our chance to make up for it. This is our lifetime together. We can’t waste it. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said, wishing I could promise him more than one lifetime. I would give him five. I would give him one hundred. “I won’t ever leave you.”
After doing some reading on the US Immigration and Naturalization website, Marius realized that his best move would be to go back to Bulgaria, where he could change his visa status more easily. It was a simple bureaucratic matter, he said, one that could be quickly fixed once he was back in Sofia. But, he said, he wasn’t leaving the United States without me, and I wasn’t finished with my program until May. “I’ll stay here,” he said. “I’d rather be illegal than to lose you.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Then whey don’t you come with me for the summer?” he said. “We’ll go in May, when your program is done. The weather will be perfect then, and we can go to the Black Sea. We could use a vacation. There are almost no tourists then.”
“What about money?” I asked, feeling hesitant to bring it up. Marius was terrible with money. The International Writers Program had given him a stipend, but he’d spent nearly all of it on a laptop computer the first week of arriving. Until he met me, he lived off free cocktails and hors d’oeuvres at literary events, potluck dinners and parties and the cookies left in the hotel lobby. Then, he moved into my apartment and I cooked for him, bought our food, paid for his phone calls to Bulgaria and whatever else he needed.
“I have a teaching job at Sofia University,” he said. “I can start again as soon as I’m back.”
“But what about all this?” I said, gesturing to my things: my desk and my books and Adam’s toys.
“Put it in storage for a few months,” he said. “And pack Adam’s toys. We’ll replace what you can’t fit in your suitcase. There are a thousand toy stores in Sofia. And playgrounds. And a zoo. And Rada can come over to play with Adam. He’ll learn some Bulgarian. It will be good for him to get away from his father for a few months.”
Marius was convinced that The Poet, whose name was Sam, was unstable. He had some evidence of this, as Sam had been drunk a few times and made angry phone calls to me, but other than those incidents, Sam had been reasonable. We fought about the separation, but when he understood that I was sure, he let me go without a legal battle. We divorced with as little ceremony as we’d married, without lawyer’s fees or court appearances or alimony. Sam offered me custody of Adam, which I accepted, and I promised to let Sam visit Adam whenever wanted. Sam paid $150 a month in child support, which would just about buy diapers, and I didn’t ask for more. I hoped that we wouldn’t fight, and that Adam wouldn’t ever feel tension between his parents.
Because of the custody arrangement, it would be possible to take Adam out of the country for the summer. Marius owned a house and promised we’d be comfortable while we were there. And, most important, by going to Bulgaria for a few months, he would be able to sort everything out with his visa. Once that problem was smoothed over, we could come back to the US and continue where we’d left off.
It didn’t take me long to decide. During the past years, I’d been so busy getting my Master’s Degree that I hadn’t had the option of spending whole weeks of uninterrupted time with Adam. I would have an abundance of time and energy to lavish upon him, a luxury I hadn’t imagined possible before. Most important, I was with a man who wanted what was best for me, who had promised to raise Adam as if he were his own child, who told me that it was time for me to stop worrying and live a little. To trust him. And so I packed up everything I owned in the world, put it in storage, and gave notice on my apartment. I bought plane tickets and prepared to follow my prince charming to the other side of the world.
In May 2002, we boarded a plane to Sofia together. Holding Adam, close, I stopped I for a moment, just before we left, and asked myself if I was doing the right thing.
It was a moment of clarity, as if the mist had parted just long enough for me to glimpse something ahead that worried me. I took a deep breath, and kissed Adam’s ear. The smell of his skin, the softness of his hair, his huge trusting eyes—I owed it to him to be sure that I was making the right choice. Was I putting him at risk or was I giving him a better life? How could I know for certain? I looked down the jet bridge, feeling as if I were about to step off the edge of a diving board into the deep end of a swimming pool. Marius was ahead, in the shadowy tunnel, holding our bags. I couldn’t see him clearly, only the distinct outline of a man with open arms. I took a quick look over my shoulder at the terminal and then, holding Adam close, I stepped into my new life.
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To reach Dani, email DaniTrueRomantic@gmail.com.
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Rumpus original art by Claire Stringer.
Rumpus original logo art by Max Winter.