Ivan Kosin

May 10

"Ivan."

It was still difficult to respond to his first name. He was not Ivan. He was Kosin - that was a name of strength, of determination. It was a name that people feared. Kosin was powerful. Kosin was a man. Ivan was just a small, frightened little boy, slapped and dragged for the hundredth time into his father's study. 

Malcolm Lawdon repeated himself.

"Ivan."

To Kosin, the use of his first name by Malcolm Lawdon seemed a particularly awkward stab at familiarity. Not ready to answer to his husband, he stalled, poking around in the cupboard in front of him. Malcolm cleared his throat and tried again.

"Ivan."

Kosin sighed and turned.

"Yes."

Chief Malcolm Lawdon, clad in his dark blue cadet sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, sat splay-legged at the thick wooden kitchen breakfast table. Idly, Kosin wondered where he'd gotten that table - it looked handmade, the wood seemed expensive, and the craftsmanship was spectacular. Malcolm pushed his chair back a little and held up a thin white envelope.

"Letter from the Centre."

Kosin's stomach plummeted, but he kept his voice neutral.

"Oh?"

If he appeared disinterested, maybe this conversation could be over faster.

"They want us to come in for a meeting and a few medicals. And to pick up your stuff. And to schedule your classes and introduction and all that. They say it's urgent - want us in ASAP."

Kosin's face got a little hot.

"So you registered me."

It came out like an accusation, but Ivan didn't know why. Of course his husband had registered him. It would have been required for the marriage license, if nothing else. Lawdon made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"Two days ago."

Kosin found a box of oatmeal and retrieved it.

"What center did you put me in?"

"They didn't ask me. It's done by region now."

Kosin paused. That was new.

"Oh."

"They put you in Brookham."

Kosin stared at the oatmeal, wondering whether or not he really wanted to eat it. It was bland, but it wasn't as if he'd be able to stomach much else. It seemed his husband was waiting for some kind of response. He gave the only one he could think of.

"Oh. Brookham."

Malcolm folded his hands together, cocooning his coffee mug. He looked worriedly up at Ivan.

"Is that OK? I know you...work there."

Lawdon's innocent understating of the situation at hand would have been endearing if it wasn't so annoying.

"Used to. Obviously." Kosin snapped.

Malcolm flinched a little, but went on.

"If you need to do something else, I can look into - "

"No, it's - it's fine." Kosin demurred. "I don't need anything."

Malcolm rolled the mug between his hands.

"OK. Well, if you decide that you want to do something else - "

"You'll what? Call the CEC and ask nicely? I'm sure that will make all the difference in the world. It's not necessary, thank you. I'll be fine."

Kosin was overstepping his station, and he knew it, but a loud voice inside of him pressured him to do it. It urged him, egging him perversely onward.

Kosin would have never allowed a carrier to speak to him this way, the voice said. Malcolm is weak, it said. On top of everything, your husband is weak. On top of everything...

Malcolm's voice interrupted.

"Ivan, I know this is hard on you. I'm trying to help - "

"I don't need any help." Ivan mumbled, wanting but not wanting to be heard. Making his final decision, he took the oatmeal box over to the stove and began to root around for a pot. Lawdon sipped his coffee and watched him.

"Pots are two cabinets to the left." he suggested, quietly. Ivan found one and began to fill it with water. Malcolm set his mug down.

"Why don't you tell me what you're thinking about all this."

Kosin shrugged, his back to his husband.

"I don't think anything."

"Bullshit." Kosin shrugged again and poured oatmeal into the water. Malcolm ran a hand through his hair, tangling in the back where sleep had mussed his curls into knots. He sighed. "Ivan, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Suddenly, the voice was there again, taking shape and form in his mind. Weak, it said. He is weak. Show him how strong you are. Kosin spun to face Malcolm and narrowed his eyes.

"You want to know what I think? I think I'm married to a man who has no idea what he's doing, and no business having a carrier. I think I'm married to a man who doesn't know anything about me, who doesn't understand what a marriage is or should be, who hasn't even proven that he's capable of siring a child, and who may or may not cause my life to end in misery in some senescence center somewhere."

To his immeasurable credit, Malcolm Lawdon took this in stride.

"Ah." he said, tilting his head curiously, a light worry flickering in his eyes. "I see."

~:~

The afternoon was a strange experience for Kosin. Malcolm had taken him to bed for a mandatory nap and kept him there under guard. Ivan had slept - fitfully, but woke in a panic a little after 1, convinced that he was late - for a meeting, an interrogation, an evaluation, something. It had taken him almost a full minute to remember where he was. Afterwards, he couldn't get back to sleep. Shortly after that, his body began to ache again.

He got out of bed and went to wash himself and change before the pain overwhelmed him. When he returned, Malcolm still hadn't stirred, and Kosin had been overtaken with a swell of rage, then a weird wondering of What If. Malcolm looked so vulnerable there, sleeping so soundly. Envy chewed at his spine. Kosin had never slept that soundly in his life. Not as a child, not as a young man, and not now, 35 years into this unwinnable game of a life he'd led.

Malcolm's neck was exposed - the collar of his grey tshirt had been twisted aside in sleep. Weakness. Kosin stared at him. What If. How long would it take someone to come? They were here alone, in the mountains. Nobody had to know. People went out for walks all the time in the forest and never came back. It could be so easy.

All at once, Ivan realized he was frightening himself.

He went over to the bed and shook his husband awake.

~

Before lunch, they went outside. Ivan at first thought this was a foolish choice, since he could easily have dashed out into the forest, but then he remembered that his pain meds were back in the house, locked in the upstairs bathroom cabinet. Malcolm had the key.

On their afternoon walk, Malcolm showed him more of the house, and the land that it sat on. Malcolm's great-great-grandfather had begun building the house in the previous century, and each generation had added to it, leaving a massive, elegant-though-eclectic structure that overlooked a lush, green valley in the mountains. Malcolm pointed out the parts that his father had built, in anticipation of the birth of his first child. The unspoken implication for Malcolm's own life hung in the air, and Kosin had scoffed and looked away, measuring in his head the distance to the tree line, just in case.

~

Now, after the meal, Ivan had occupied himself with washing the dishes. Malcolm watched him and hesitated before saying:

"There's a dishwasher, you know."

Kosin didn't turn around to acknowledge this.

"I like washing."

In truth, he did. It was a peculiar trait that had formed as a necessity (his father had abhorred a dirty house) and become a quietly-enjoyed habit.

Behind him, Malcolm shrugged.

Even taking his time, the dishes were done in ten minutes - too soon for a carrier who wanted to spend as little time as possible in the company of his new husband. Malcolm didn't speak during that time, and the quiet occasional rustling told Kosin that he must still be paging through the local paper.

Ivan stared at the sink for a minute, then lifted and dried each of the dishes individually from the rack. When that, too, was over, he turned back to face Malcolm. The man was staring at him, a look in his eye that may have been meaningless, but startled Ivan nonetheless. Kosin's heartbeat quickened and he looked out of the window.

"I, um. I need to shower."

Malcolm folded the paper and stood up, giving Kosin a quick once-over.

"OK. Are you sure you feel up to it? Do you need anything? Are you in pain?"

Kosin rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm - I'm fine."

Malcolm nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a bath instead? I can run a bath for you."

Kosin ground his teeth.

"I just - " he exhaled impatiently. "I just want to take a shower." he raised his head to look at his husband. "Alone."

Malcolm nodded.

"Alright. Well, I'll be right here. If you need anything, just holler."

Years of government protocol training and an increasing fear of his own anger were all that forced Kosin out of the room without further comment.

In the shower, he touched himself and realized that his cavity was more or less fully formed.

~:~