Alexandra
Five Years Ago
“Demich. De-mi-ch…” Lyuba calls out loudly, spotting me near the dorm.
Just my luck. Why do I always run into her? I stop, set my heavy bag down, and wait for her to catch up.
“Where are you rushing off to, like you’ve seen a pack of wolves?” she pants. “Tell the girls there’s a class tomorrow morning. Don’t oversleep.”
“What? I thought they said Mykhailyk was sick,” I reply, already seeing our plans shatter to pieces.
“They found a substitute. Not thrilled?” She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “It’s an important subject.”
“Oh, I’m over the moon. Bursting with joy,” I mutter, picking up my bag. “I’ll pass the word.”
Breathing heavily, I climb to the fourth floor of the dorm and shove the door to our room open with my shoulder.
“Well, look at this lady gracing us with her presence,” Lizka drawls, sprawled out on her bed.
“Hey,” Alina says, taking my bag while I kick off my shoes. “We’ve already set up a little spread. The other girls will be here soon.”
“Breaking news from the doom-and-gloom headquarters: we’ve got a class first thing tomorrow,” I announce glumly.
“I told you he’d outlive us all,” Lizka huffs indignantly. “If I had that many laws crammed in my head, I’d have lost it by now.”
“So, there’s really a sub?” Alina glances at the table, looking thrown off.
“I’m starving,” I say, grabbing a sandwich with sprats. “Open the bag,” I add, plopping down on my bed.
“What’s in there?” Alina tugs at the zipper and gasps.
“What is it?” Lizka jumps up from her bed.
“I stopped by Grandma’s. Borrowed some homemade cherry wine to treat you guys.”
“Dang it,” Lizka groans. “What are we gonna do?”
“Well, we’ve got a few options,” Alina says, approaching the situation with utmost seriousness. “We can hang out in the room, go to bed early, and make it to class on time. We can stay up late and show up looking like a mess, or we can…”
“Not go at all,” Lizka cuts in, twisting her blonde hair into a messy bun. “What’s he gonna do? Call us in for extra sessions? Been there, done that,” she waves dismissively. “If we haven’t learned it in five years, a few months won’t save us.”
“Go to his office hours? No thanks, I’m out,” Alina shakes her head. “I’ve been a couple of times. That was enough.”
“He probably doesn’t have a wife or kids. Otherwise, I don’t know how they’d put up with someone so nitpicky,” I say, getting up to unpack my bag.
After a long debate, we decide the party must go on, so we call the girls from room 410. They bring champagne, which doesn’t exactly match our vibe, but whatever. Suspecting the night will get rowdy, I try to pace myself with the drinks so I don’t end up in hot water with Mykhailo Kostyantynovych tomorrow. He’s got a knack for ruining your mood and piling on assignments. I wouldn’t be surprised if, despite being sick, he shows up to class anyway.
After a few toasts, things get lively. After a few more, the fear fades. Then we all head to a club and let loose until midnight. Sleepy, we stumble back to the dorm, where we get a scolding from the warden. Feeling sheepish, we creep up to our floor, trying to be as quiet as possible, and crash into bed.
We welcomed April with a bang. That means everything’s gonna be great. Graduation and a new, independent life are just around the corner. I can’t wait…
“My grandpa has that same ringtone,” Lizka grumbles through her sleep. “Alina, you’re a sadist,” she says, sitting up in bed only to flop back down. “Everything’s spinning. I’m dying.”
“I told you so,” Alina mutters, shutting off the alarm. She throws on a robe and heads to put the kettle on.
Learning from Lizka’s mistake, I sit up very slowly. I freeze for a few seconds before standing. My head’s pounding, my eyes feel like they’re bulging, but my legs move on command. I grab my toiletry bag and shuffle to the sinks. I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, and dampen my hair a bit. I feel gross, but skipping class isn’t an option. When I’m done, I run into Lizka on my way out. She just nods and silently takes over the sink.
Yesterday was so much fun…
We sip our coffee in silence. I bet each of us is wrestling with the temptation to stay in the room and blow off the first class.
“It’s not even gonna be him teaching,” Lizka voices what we’re all thinking.
“We’re going,” Alina says firmly. “Girls, we’ve got so little time left. We have to do this.”
“Agreed,” I say, setting down my coffee, which I can barely stomach, and checking my phone.
Myron called, but I’ll call him back later. I’m tired of hearing the same old thing.
Makeup and hair? Not even a thought. In this state, all I can manage is to throw on jeans and a sweater, pull my hair into a messy ponytail, and dab on a bit of powder.
“Beauties,” Alina snickers as we get ready to head out.
“Beauties in distress,” I laugh.
“Can you not laugh so loud?” Lizka groans.
To get to the university, we’ve got to pass a few bus stops, so we skip the crowded transit and walk slowly instead. No one talks; the mood for chit-chat stayed behind in yesterday.
The cool air clears my head a bit and helps me prep for class, at least a little. I think about the questions I jotted down at the back of my international law notebook and try to mentally tweak them. Our advisor loves it when we ask questions that interest him. He marks something down in his notebook when we do. The girls and I are hoping for an automatic pass, so we craft our questions with extra care. What if he’s tasked another professor with checking our participation?
We pick up the pace since time’s running out. We shed our jackets and hurry to the lecture hall. The crowd is buzzing, and it’s not doing my condition any favors. Once again, I note that the second row is better as I slump into my seat next to Alina after the bell. Lizka grumbles quietly and sits behind me. Everything would be fine if it weren’t for the overpowering perfume of our class rep, Lyuba. It’s practically burning my eyes, which are already in rough shape today. It’s like she’s dressed up for a date with Mykhailyk, who’s pushing sixty.
“Can’t even breathe,” Alina mutters while I dig through my bag for my notebook.
Damn it. I forgot it.
When the door opens, all eyes turn toward it. I expected to see Olena Andriivna, but instead… Movies don’t capture moments like this as dramatically as real life does. A young man, someone we’ve never seen before, walks to the desk and only then looks at us. The room falls into a stunned silence. Even the guys in the back hush up.
“Good morning,” he says in a low, slightly raspy voice.
“Good morning,” the room echoes back, buzzing to life.
“Whoa, who’s this?” Lizka whispers behind me, drawing Lyuba’s attention. She shoots an annoyed glance and turns away. The thing is, Lizka even whispers loudly.
“While Mykhailo Kostyantynovych is out for treatment, I’ll be filling in. My name is Oleksandr Mykhailovych,” he says, scanning the room.
“S-Sasha,” Lizka hisses from behind, catching his eye. That look… It takes my breath away. Stern, but ridiculously handsome. “Hear that? Your namesake.”
“Did you have a question?” He looks straight at me.
“Uh, no,” I shake my head, blushing. Damn, why is he so young? I don’t react this stupidly to Olena Andriivna.
“Will you be our advisor too?” Lizka chirps, and Alina shoots me a knowing look. Our friend is in full form.
“Yes,” he nods, pulling some manuals out of his briefcase.
“Girls, got any gum?” Lizka jabs me in the back with a pencil, hard.
“Can you chill already?” I snap, getting annoyed. “Lizka,” I turn to her.
“If you’re so eager to chat, maybe you can tell us where you left off with Mykhailo Kostyantynovych?” His voice rings out across the room.
I whip around, meeting his questioning gaze. God… Where did we leave off? He steps around the desk and perches on it, crossing his arms.
“Well…” I stand hesitantly. “I… We…” I glance at Alina in panic. She flips open her notebook, assuming I’ve got eagle eyes. “I was sick,” I blurt out, blushing to the roots of my hair.
“When?” Lyuba pipes up, flipping through her notes. I don’t know about the rest of us, but Lyuba’s definitely gonna work in her field. Alina doesn’t miss a beat, jabbing her in the back with a pen. If she doesn’t shut up, I’ll sneak into her room tonight and strangle her myself.
“Sit down,” he says, looking away and returning to the desk. “Alright, let’s get acquainted,” he scans the room again with a careful gaze, starting to read off last names.
“Halakh?” He gets to the first of our trio.
“Here,” Lizka says loudly. My turn is coming up, and for some reason, I’m nervous.
“Demich?”
“Here,” I say, trying to sound indifferent.
Just a quick glance and a slight nod. He moves on while I replay what just happened in my head. I’m gonna kill Lizka.
“Good. Nice to meet you all,” he closes the attendance book. “Now, write down the new topic.”
“Gimme,” I say, opening Alina’s notebook to the middle and tearing out a double sheet.
“He’s hot. Just s-sexy,” Lizka doesn’t let up, drawing his attention again.
Only, he thinks it’s me talking, not sneaky Lizka. I want to sink through the floor when I catch a faint, killer smile on his lips. How am I supposed to focus on international law now?
He dictates quickly and clearly, occasionally glancing at his notes. He looks confident. Maybe too confident. I wonder where he came from. Is Mykhailo Kostyantynovych in such bad shape that they decided to let him go?
Writing on loose sheets is awkward, and I struggle to keep up, so I have to abbreviate. It feels like he knows the topic inside out. He gives interesting examples and asks questions. Thankfully, he doesn’t call on me, which lets me breathe a little easier. I’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. I’m flustered like some teenager.
“Everything I’ve covered today, you need to know,” he says as the bell rings. “Be able to give examples and break down the laws. Until next class,” he ignores the chatter from the back rows and starts packing up his things.
“Excuse me,” Lizka drawls, “will there be extra sessions?”
“Aren’t regular classes enough for you?” he asks seriously.
“Well, some topics are tough to grasp,” she counters without missing a beat.
“Which ones?” He seems amused by this. I’m folding the two double sheets I wrote on into my bag for the third time.
“Can’t think of any right now,” she says, completely shameless.
“When you do,” he switches to a more casual tone, “we’ll talk,” he cuts her off sternly, grabs his things, and leaves the room.