Asphalt Kids

By Eglė Nutautaitė

English lit student Ema has spent her entire life feeling like she's not enough. Not the ideal daughter. Or student. Or athlete. She's never been at home in her own body, always feeling too big or too small. Maybe that's why she settles for men who only love her as little as she loves herself. She knows she hasn't been the greatest friend to her besties, Gabija and Rytis, despite their unconditional love for her. And she's certainly never been good enough for her childhood crush, Leo, the popular kid who's forever felt out of reach. Until, suddenly, he isn't.

 

Growing up together in the Soviet concrete tower blocks of Vilnius, Lithuania bonded the Asphalt Kids, as they're known, in ways outsiders could never understand, and upon reconnecting as young adults, Leo realises his shared history with Ema has evolved into an all-too-tempting fascination. For Ema, it feels like a dream, even if it's an affair. Even if it's a dirty little secret. Even if it's toxic. It's still everything she's ever wanted. How could she resist? But when adult life challenges Ema to finally make some hard decisions, her passion for art emerges as an unexpected priority—just as she discovers Leo isn't the only one harbouring strong feelings for her. Now, as long-concealed truths come to light, Ema will have to make a choice between what she's always wanted, and a future she never imagined.

 

Asphalt Kids explores how the ghost of a traumatic history shapes the people we become, the things we fight for, and the people we love.

 

Reviews:

 

"A hauntingly beautiful story. There is poetry to Eglė's writing that's simply transcendent; it's so evocative, so raw. Her mastery of language when it comes to creating beautiful metaphors is extraordinarily powerful. The story is thought-provoking and bittersweet in the best possible way. The author takes her characters - the damaged children that must grow into the damaged adults - with such detail and care."

 

- Kate Studer, the editor at Paper Poppy Editorial

 

"An exquisitely painful and powerful debut novel by Eglė Nutautaitė is set in Lithuania in the years just following the end of the USSR. Her characters, damaged both by dysfunctional families and by the constricting Soviet culture that dominated their childhoods, flail throughout their young adulthoods as they seek to find a path forward that can fulfill both ambition and relational satisfaction. A heart-wrenching and unflinching glimpse into the lives of the children who grew up under communism in the USSR, but whose young adult lives were shadowed by the chaos that followed the immediate aftermath of its downfall, and a reminder of the power of love and self-determination."

 

- J.L. Powers, author of Under Water.

 

About the author:

Eglė Nutautaitė was born in Vilnius, Lithuania. After she quit her successful business career, she moved to Barcelona to pursue the life of the artist. She is a writer and a figurative artist focused on oil painting and drawing. "Asphalt Kids" is her first published novel. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eglė Nutautaitė
• Release date: Sep 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9788409529391

Book preview

PART I

DESCENT

December 20th, 2013

Barcelona

Afemale voice on loudspeakers is bouncing off the glass walls that overlook the purple sky, where the dawn is breaking open the long, dark night. Out through a blanket of darkness peek slithers of naked cerulean sky. The city is still drowsing, but the airport terminal is noisy, full of people. At the departures’ lounge, a woman with brown, bob-cut hair is sitting by the window wall, hectically hitting keys on her laptop. From time to time, she stops and lifts her eyes to the dramatic colours behind the window, oblivious of those who come and go from the island of fake leather seats. Her worn-out suitcase, packed for a different kind of adventure, stands by her feet. Inside cardboard boxes, her belongings are lined up against the walls of her empty apartment that she is contractually obliged to vacate by the first of January. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, rubs her eyes before returning them to the idle black screen. She taps her finger on the touchpad and the screen lights up again, exposing the text of the unfinished email. She resumes writing and, a few paragraphs later, types her name at the bottom and returns to the paragraph she cannot figure how to end.

Once you’ve been truly in love with somebody, you don’t just go back to being friends. You either go completely separate ways or resort to some half-ass relationship of half-truths and inconsequence.

It isn’t semantics that causes problems in the paragraph. Honesty, she knows, is tripping on obstacles of old, intrinsic lies. The colours of breaking dawn start shrinking into greys of winter Vilnius, the city she was born in, the uniform colour of social realism in the ‘80s. She closes her eyes. Multi-story Khrushchyovkas with a rusty playground and a crumbling basketball court at the back approach her in slow motion, mute. A gravel quarry behind it stretches as far as she can see, its vast hollowness expanding. A few Ladas lined up in a half-empty parking lot in front of a bleak high-rise. Kids dressed in shaggy, unvarying clothes, their movements lagging. Their ghostly presence speaks by looks and motion and absence of sounds. The buzzing silence surrounding the kids is disturbing. Intensity of this memory crawls under her skin, holding up loneliness like a priest holds Holy Communion at the culmination of the Mass.

December 4th, 1999

Vilnius

Leaning against the wall, Ema watched people layering around the bar, waving to the waiters, substance-enhanced smiles glued at the front of their heads. She slugged her drink and ordered another one. Every woman in the stuffy, crowded room was carefully groomed, dressed up, yet nonetheless, in the neon light above the bar, their painted faces appeared dead. She lifted her hand to her mouth to conceal a yawn when something across the bar caught her attention. Handsome and tall, a lazy smile on his face, he was leaning over the bar on his elbows, chatting casually with a blushing waitress. Reflexively, Ema turned away and reached for her glass. A frown passed her face as she scanned herself: black jeans and a tank top, thick-soled military boots. There was nothing refined or delicate about her. She was too tall, her mouth was too wide-cut and lips too big for her thin, angular face. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, then ran her fingers through her pixie hair.

‘Oh god, god, oh my god,’ she heard Gabija shout.

Rytis looked around. ‘What did I miss?’ he said and asked if they were praying.

Ema forced a laugh, arranged her face into a surprise.

‘That’s Leo Ruzgys,’ Gabija yelled again.

Rytis glanced across the bar, scratched his unshaved chin. Ema returned the empty glass to the bar top, slid one hand into the pocket of her jeans and turned to where Gabija was pointing. When he noticed her, Leo froze for a second. Whether it was a surprise, or he failed to recognise her, she couldn’t tell. She looked away, and when she lifted her eyes again, he was staring at her, amused, as one would at a priest in a whorehouse. He flashed a toothpaste commercial smile and waved as he started fighting his way through the crowd towards them.

‘Ema Lingytė, as I live and breathe.’ He grabbed her into an embrace and planted a kiss on her cheek. Leo patted Rytis on the shoulder, then gave Gabija a hug. ‘Gorgeous as ever,’ he said as he kissed her cheeks.

Gabija blushed. ‘Oh, Ruzgys,’ was all she said. Pointing forward with his index finger, he took Ema’s hand and started walking. She followed. Leaning against the bar, Matas watched them approach with a cocky smile.

‘Ema! Wow, you nearly look like a woman,’ he said.

She gave a tight smile. ‘Fake it till you make it.’

Confident, Leo leaned against the wall. ‘It’s been ages!’ he said. Tapping her fingers over the bar top, she said nothing. He scanned her from head to toes, and in a low, seductive voice, he asked, ‘What happened? You’ve always been, well...’

‘Ugly?’ she said, head cocked to the side.

He shook his head, ‘Special was the word,’ he said. ‘Just look at you—you’re drop-dead gorgeous.’

She smiled and waved her index finger for him to get closer. As he leaned towards her, she said, ‘Has this line ever worked for you, Ruzgys?’ He laughed and, as he ran his eyes over her again, told her she’d be surprised. She gave a tight smile and looked down, wondering where it would be best to place her arms. He ran his fingers through his hair and asked her what was up. She said, ‘Not much. Just getting drunk in bars and achieving a colossal success with cross-dressing practice.’ Her palms were damp, her nose covered in sweat, which she wiped off with the back of her hand. She asked what he was up to. He appeared to be pleased with the question.

‘Well, ploughing my way through college. I got a marketing job at a major distribution company,’ he said, trying to sound casual. Smiling, she said that was good for him and patted him on the shoulder. Her confidence was a sham, she forgot witty phrases, and now she didn’t know what else to say. She turned towards the bar and said she needed a drink.

‘Beer or vodka?’ Leo flashed a self-satisfied smile.

‘A Long Island,’ she said, digging in her shapeless leather backpack, hectically looking for cigarettes. She groped across a crumpled pack of paper tissues, a pack of chewing gum, until she finally retrieved a deformed pack of Marlboro Lights.

She asked if he had a lighter. He said he didn’t smoke. ‘Of course,’ she mumbled and resumed excavating her bag.

His face softened; his posture relaxed as he continued watching her. ‘At the risk of sounding redundant, you look amazing!’ he said. ‘I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other, for what, three years?’

‘It’s the shower. I should do it more often,’ she said, and he laughed. ‘Four years,’ she added and regretted it immediately. She didn’t want him to think she kept track, which she did and considered pitiful. She lit a cigarette, leaned clumsily on the bar and looked over it at the counter below, where barmen cut lemons and kept measuring cups. The surface looked sticky. A small colony of ants were moving in a line, aiming for an open sugar container. Absent-mindedly, she heard him say something about time flying by when Matas and Rytis walked up.

‘Rytis says you ended up at university, hah?’ Matas said to Ema. He sounded surprised.

She gave him a fake smile. ‘Shocking, isn’t it?’

‘I thought you flunked before senior year at high school. At least that was the rumour.’

She looked at him unwillingly from under her lashes. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

Rytis hugged her over the shoulders. ‘Ema finished third in her class,’ he said.

She rolled her eyes and explained she’d finally mastered cheating at tests.

Gabija appeared through the archway, waved at them. ‘I got us a table,’ she shouted.

Once they sat down and ordered drinks, Matas turned to Ema again. ‘We’ve established Gabija is a future violinist and Rytis will be a hacker when he grows up. What about you?’ he asked.

Ema produced another forced smile, ‘Wasted potential.’

‘What’s your major?’ Leo asked, leaning towards her on his elbows.

Ema smiled to herself, amused. ‘English lit.’

‘And that leads you where exactly?’ Matas said, pleased with himself. ‘English teacher?’

‘A secretary. Or maybe I’ll get lucky, knock down a rich husband and thrive as a housewife in suburban bliss.’

Leo and Matas exchanged disappointed glances; Rytis and Gabija smiled simultaneously. Leo asked if they saw each other a lot.

‘Living together would save us money and commute time,’ Gabija said. She flicked her eyes between Matas and Leo. ‘And you, brothers-in-crime, still picking girls like flowers?’ she added with a wicked smile.

‘Leo is a serious man now, got himself a girlfriend,’ Matas said. Leo blinked, wiggled in his seat.

Feeling her face heat up again, Ema finished her drink and excused herself to go to the bathroom. After she wet her face with a damp paper towel, she looked in the mirror. It was past midnight on a Friday night after an exhausting week, but her cheeks were pink and eyes shining. Excitement wiped off fatigue; she felt slightly drunk and suspiciously happy. You stupid woman, she thought as she dried her hands and saw Gabija burst into the bathroom.

‘Spill it,’ she said.

Ema patted her fingertips under her eyes. ‘Spill what?’

‘Ruzgys looks rather smitten,’ Gabija said. ‘What are you gonna do about it?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ she said as she threw the paper towel into the basket.

‘Are you gonna toy with him a little?’ Gabija nudged Ema with her shoulder.

Ema shook her head. ‘Are you deaf? He’s got a girlfriend.’

‘Oh please,’ Gabija mumbled as she slid lipstick over her top lip. ‘Let the wild Ema loose for a bit. Remember that girl who can strip and swim in the river at 6:00 a.m. in November and walk home from a nightclub on socks? A girl who knows better than to let some insignificant girlfriend bother her? If you wanted, I bet you could crush his heart into a thousand pieces.’

Ema sniffed. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘’cause that’s what I usually do.’

‘Oh c’mon, just have fun.’ Gabija pulled her towards the door. ‘You can thank me later for rocking your world.’

Another round of Long Islands was lined up when they returned to the table. Before Ema sat down, Leo stood up and took her hand. ‘Let’s go dance,’ he said.

‘Seriously, Ruzgys?’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘The high-chested blond at the bar has turned you down?’

‘Do you realise that’s unfair?’ Leo said, laughing.

‘I’m aware of it, yes. But you and me dancing, c’mon.’

‘I’m just asking for a second chance,’ he said dramatically.

‘Second chance?’ Ema laughed. ‘I wasn’t aware you ever had the first.’

Matas and Gabija stood up and she pulled Ema towards the dance floor. ‘She’s a handful, that girl, isn’t she?’ Gabija whispered to Leo. Ema peeked at Rytis, who shrugged. He appeared indifferent. ‘Believe’ by Cher was blasting out of speakers as they walked towards the tightly packed dance floor.

‘Do you mind a personal question?’ Leo whispered when a slow song came up.

‘I do, but you’re gonna ask anyway, aren’t you?’ Ema said.

‘You and Rytis are a thing now?’

She laughed. ‘Are you insane?’

‘Rytis didn’t turn out bad, minus the ridiculous clothes.’

‘You’re still an arrogant ass!’

‘And you’re still his mother hen,’ Leo said, and she felt his hand run down her back. ‘Don’t pout, Ema. It was a compliment!’

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I can see that the theme of the evening is your amazement over how the two losers turned out semi-okay.’

‘I must admit your transformation is of epic proportions. It’s amazing how a tomboy turned into the stunning creature that you are!’

She stood back, eyes narrowed. ’Are you even aware you have just objectified me? To return the compliment, I’ll say that you seem to have remained just the same,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Just as charming?’

‘Just as arrogant, convinced in your charm and up to your old tricks,’ she said. ‘Don’t I know them all by heart.’

He was hugging her tight around the waist with one hand, and with the other, he brushed her hair from her face. ‘I missed you, Em.’ He looked at her eagerly. ‘You’re the only girl I remember from the times of raging hormones.’

‘Shall I be flattered?’ She frowned. ‘I’m so memorable because I was one of the guys, or because you never got to sleep with me?’

‘Both, I guess,’ he said. ‘Despite popular opinion, you were special.’

‘That I was. An ugly underdog with a dirty mouth. Long live the captain of the losers’ team.’ Leo laughed and then the song was over.

‘I feel like a mean stepmom stealing the party from you,’ Leo said to Rytis, who looked tired and bored when the four of them returned to the table.

‘I’ll drag my inner Cinderella to the shrink tomorrow,’ Rytis said, unconcerned.

‘Rytis,’ Matas said, placing his arm behind Gabija, ‘how come you’re still stuck with two of the highest maintenance chicks in town?’

Holding the straw between his teeth, Rytis smiled. ‘Pity love, baby,’ he said. ‘And high maintenance is just a defensive term for high-quality.’

Ema stepped on Rytis’s foot, offered him a smile, and he winked back at her.

Matas let out a loud, artificial chuckle. ‘That’s an interesting way to view it.’

The traffic sounds got closer and the grey December light was falling through the thin metal blinds. An acute headache throbbed in her temples; her throat was crackling dry. For a moment, Ema stayed still in panic, scanning the room to figure out where she was. Faded carpet. A full glass ashtray sat on top of a plywood desk with a computer screen. Rytis’s place, she finally concluded with relief. A plastic-framed clock on the wall above the table showed twenty past midday. Her memory was hazy, springs of the worn-out sofa-bed were pushing onto the side of her ribs. She got up, opened the window to let in crisp December air. There were dustballs on the windowsill. A dead fly was suspended in a damaged spider web.

She found Rytis in the kitchen, smoking next to an open window. ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ he said loudly, and she frowned, placing her palms on her temples.

‘Have you got aspirin?’ she asked, sitting down on a stool against the concrete wall painted a dirty green. Rytis turned to the kitchen cabinets and retrieved a bottle of pills, then pushed it along the table.

‘Big night, ha?’ he said, smiling.

‘So it seems,’ she said in a groggy, tired voice. ‘The finale of which seems hazy.’

‘I bet.’

‘Illuminate,’ she whispered.

‘Unusually enthusiastic dancing and speed drinking. Other than that, pedestrian stuff,’ he said, getting up. ‘Coffee?’ She nodded, placed her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms. ‘So, Leo Ruzgys,’ Rytis said, opening the fridge. ‘The golden boy and his evil twin.’

‘Haven’t seen them since I moved out from my mum’s,’ she said, rubbing her eyes.

‘Not a huge loss.’ Rytis’s voice sounded bitter.

‘Matas is the same arrogant dick, but Leo was nice.’

‘Well, last night you seemed to have been upgraded, worthy to sit at their table.’ Rytis was buttering the toast and the smell of heated bread made her nauseous.

‘Why’s that?’ she asked.

‘My guess is you minus thick spectacles and crappy clothes.’

‘You mean I suddenly landed in their league?’

Rytis smiled, took a bite. ‘Now you’re just milking it,’ he said.

‘Shut up. I’m serious.’

‘Gabi has always been up to their standard. She was popular, dressed well,’ he said as he poured boiling water into a French press. ‘You turned out pretty well too. And I just tag along.’

‘Are you feeling sorry for yourself?’ she mumbled. ‘You’ve been friends with them too.’

‘Please,’ he said and took another bite. ‘I was just an easy target for their mean jokes.’ Rytis placed coffee and toast on the table and sat down opposite her. He ate in silence for a while; she lit up one of his cigarettes. ‘Eat, Em. Bread will soak up the booze.’

‘Not hungry,’ she said, looking out of the window at the Soviet-built block of flats with crumbling balconies in front. She was twelve when she’d met Leo at a basketball tournament winners’ party. Leo was the boys’ team captain, a local star who was the subject of every girl’s infatuation. His parents were Soviet upper-middle class, high figures in the Communist party, chief bookkeepers at state institutions. They owned a red Lada, lived in an apartment with wooden floors and had a collection of leather-cover encyclopaedia displayed at the top of the living room shelf. Ema was an introvert from a troubled family, an obnoxious tomboy who never bothered to fit in. Apart from Rytis and Gabija, she had no friends. Everyone was dismayed by Leo’s interest in Ema that night at the party. There was whispering, mean jokes. She felt awkward; she mocked his cliché popularity to make him go away. He stayed, sat next to her. She could still remember the smell of laundry detergent on his clothes, not the cheap stuff that smelled of bile soap her mother used, but the imported one from a hard currency shop that smelled of flowers and money. Ema knew she was out of his league; she was sulky and unpleasant. She made no effort to laugh at his bland jokes. When he walked her home that night, they sat on the bench in front of her high-rise and talked about the champions’ gift: a pair of Asics basketball shoes, an unheard-of luxury for kids of the shortage generation. He kissed her cheek as they said goodbye. His attention shifted to other girls quickly, Ema found out. She settled for being his friend. They’d play basketball in a concrete court in front of her house. He preached to her when she smoked cigarettes and drank beer bought for lunch money behind the cement factory. He’d brag about his new victories in sports and girls; she’d make harsh jokes and intimidate him with her rude humour.

Rytis cleared his throat and the sound yanked her back into the dirt-green kitchen. He was looking at her with his usual hard-to-read expression, brown eyes wide open. After a few moments, she looked away and reached for another cigarette.

‘So, wanna talk about last night?’ he asked.

‘Nah,’ she said and leaned her cheek against cold window. A long silence followed until Rytis spoke again.

‘He got you right back to where he left you, didn’t he?’ he said, seemingly unconcerned.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Are you going to psychoanalyse me now?’

‘No, just curious.’

‘Or bitchy,’ she said, standing up. ‘I need to go home.’

When she reached her fifth floor flat in the building with no lift, Ema leaned against a dirty wall looking for keys, arm elbow-deep inside her bag. When she noticed a figure sitting on the stairs one flight above, she flinched.

‘Well,’ Igor said, getting up. ‘Good afternoon.’ 

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, her voice cranky. Her hand holding the keys trembled as she turned to unlock the door.

Narrowed eyes piercing Ema, Igor sniffed out a smile. ‘It’s a Saturday morning and I decide to call my girlfriend, who went out with her friends last night.’ Ema entered her flat and Igor followed. As she took off her coat, he walked to the sofa, coat and dirty shoes on. He sat, spread his legs. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, so I’m calling that girlfriend of mine to invite her to brunch. But she’s not picking up. So, I start getting worried and decide to come and check if she’s okay. It appears, she isn’t home. So, I waited.’

Ema checked the kitchen clock; it was nearly 3:00 p.m. ‘How long have you been waiting?’ she asked.

‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’ he said, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Because here she is, late in the afternoon, with run-down make-up and yesterday’s clothes.’

‘I crashed at Rytis’s,’ she said as she walked to the kitchen. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘Before we settle down for a cozy afternoon tea, would you mind explaining why my girlfriend spent the night with another man?’

‘Oh, come on, Igor. It’s Rytis.’

‘Are you saying Rytis doesn’t have a penis?’ He grinned, an evil kind of smile.

‘I’m too hungover to engage in verbal sparring,’ she said, walking towards the kitchen. ‘I didn’t have money for a cab, so we walked back to his place. I crashed on the sofa.’ The electric kettle turned off; she poured boiling water into the cups.

‘You think I’m a total idiot, don’t you?’ Igor said. She had nothing to say to that, so she stayed silent. She walked to the armchair that stood in front of the old shaggy sofa and sat down. ‘I’m not impressed by this ménage-à-trois,’ Igor spoke again, ‘He needs to go.’

Taken by surprise, she looked up. ‘What?’ she said.

‘I don’t want you to see him anymore.’ Igor squeezed the words out through clenched teeth.

‘You are kidding?’ she said, her eyes popped open. ‘No, you aren’t. Are you insane? Rytis is my best friend! In fact, apart from Gabija, he is my only friend.’

‘Then you’ll have to find a new one to replace him.’

She rubbed her eyes. ‘You’re crazy,’ she whispered.

‘So, Rytis or me?’

She laughed then, the angry sound of it echoing against the walls of the empty room. ‘Don’t make me choose,’ she said. ‘You know what Rytis means to me. You know we’ve been friends for fifteen years.’

‘You had an affair in the past. Or am I dreaming?’

‘Jeez, we had a thing for a few months when we were thirteen!’ Ema exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. ‘I can’t believe I have to explain myself again.’

‘I got tired waiting on those stairs, Em. So, I’ll go now. You aren’t hanging out with Rytis again. Is that clear?’

Ema put her face in her palms as Igor stood up and walked toward the door. ‘You know that’s not gonna happen,’ she said as Igor stopped to throw a heavy look at her.

‘I’ll give you a few days to consider,’ he said and closed the door behind him.

December 9th, 1999

Vilnius

Above the building , the dark sky hung low, the parking lot below deserted. In front of the window, Ema was listing through school notes, December darkness in the room that looked sterile for the lack of normal things was interrupted by an orange table lamp. The weekend drama seemed dull like the morning aftertaste of a heavy late-night meal. She checked her phone. She fostered no hope that Igor would reconsider. A familiar knot sat in her chest; she pushed away the toast. She wasn’t feeling hungry. She didn’t want Igor to call. If he did, she’d cave in, she knew. His passive aggressive behaviour was intimidating, and it mattered not that yesterday she’d known she was right; today her confidence was fading. She made herself a coffee and tried to read. Her thoughts drifted from Saturday night to Igor, from excitement about meeting Leo to a familiar sense of inadequacy she was used to feeling in his presence. Leo had a girlfriend, yet she wasn’t surprised he flirted with her all night. For a committed man, he hugged her too close when they were dancing. The way Leo made her feel would make Rytis less of an issue to Igor, she thought and smiled bitterly to herself.

She took a small bite of her toast. She chewed slowly, staring at the black window. Leo’s attention gave her a sense of fake confidence; she wasn’t a caricature of a girl in ugly clothes anymore. She was in college now, an edgy, short-haired English literature student, dressed in black. She stared at a sad cornerless piece of toast for a while, then chucked it into the bin, refilled her coffee cup and lit a cigarette. Unresolved conflict bothered her. She knew Igor's reaction was over the top, but her compulsion to fix things made her restless. She dialled his number. After a long repetition of monotonous beeps, she hung up.

When she got off the bus and was walking towards the faculty building, the phone rang in her pocket. 'Hey gorgeous.' She recognised Leo’s voice. 'What’s up?’ Navigating the slippery sidewalk and pushing past a bunch of students smoking outside, she moved away from the noisy crowd and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. ‘Let's have lunch today,’ Leo said, his voice flirtatious.

Her hands trembled as she tried to light a cigarette. She told him she had classes and then she had to work in the afternoon. She let out a small cloud of smoke. It sounded like a sigh.

‘Are you avoiding me?’ he asked.

‘Should I?’

She heard him laugh before he said, ‘Maybe.’ She told him she’d be finished by eight and suggested they meet at the Coffee Hut on the corner of Gedimino Avenue. She threw half a cigarette into the bin and rushed towards the faculty. Her feet were wet, as slushy snow soaked through the cracks in her boots. There were green clouds in the sky; a pale geometry of roads and bridges and bleak buildings stretched into the horizon.

Ema entered the café fifteen minutes late. A few people were seated at square tables; they read newspapers, some talked on their phones. Leo sat at the bar sideways to the entrance, a whiskey glass in his hand, eyes on the basketball game screened on TV. When he noticed her lingering at the entrance, he stood up, pulled down the knot of his scarf. He moved gracefully like a lazy cat. She started walking, eyes on the floor, clumsily trying to unbutton her coat.

‘I can’t get used to the new you!’ he said and pulled her into a hug. He smelled of spicy aftershave and espresso. He pushed her forward, examining her flushed cheeks. His green, narrowed eyes were smiling. She wasn’t a textbook kind of beauty, not really his type. He was surprised again to find her so alluring. When they were teens, despite her gawky look and clothes that made her look like a badly-timed joke, he’d found her obnoxious wit disturbingly attractive. ‘Short hair suits you.’ He kissed her cheek one more time.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, no need for a hair comb, too,’ she mumbled, looking at the beer taps sticking from under the bar.

‘Jeez, you’re tall! I don’t have to bend to kiss you,’ he whispered.

Meant to be seductive, the tone of his voice made Ema laugh. ‘I’m flattered,’ she said. ‘In a kind of obligatory way.’ She looked at him and drew her eyebrows together. He gave her another look of appreciation and she couldn’t help a smile. ‘Are you hitting on me, Ruzgys?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘Is that a crime?’

‘When the whole childhood crush story didn’t work out, now you’re digging into cheap flattery?’

‘At least I’m not a chicken and I’m not afraid to take a chance.’

‘Are you implying that I am?’ she laughed as she pulled on her scarf.

‘When was the last time you took a risk?’ he asked, flashing another smile.

Irritated, she said, ‘I don’t think it’s any of your business.’

‘In that literature department of yours, are you majoring in uptight?’

‘I’m not uptight!’

He laughed. ‘Oh yes, you are!’

They bought take-away lattes and went outside. It was a thick December evening; icy sidewalks were framed by uniform piles of dirty snow. They were walking the deserted promenade along the Neris River, watching big chunks of ice following the flow. The road, leading nowhere in particular, was quiet. Ema retrieved a beanie from her pocket and pulled it on, further disappearing into her huge scarf.

‘It’s not July, Em. We’ll freeze to death.’ Leo’s voice trembled. ‘We could be sitting in a warm restaurant, sipping Chardonnay and eating ravioli, if you listened to me. But you never do.’

‘Would you exchange the silence of the river flow, the moon reflecting from the snow, for ravioli?’ Her voice vibrated. She was shivering from tension and brutal cold. 'Walk faster and you’ll warm up’.

Leo said he had an idea. He ran across the street and disappeared behind the corner. When he reappeared a few minutes later, he was carrying a paper bag and a winner’s smile on his face. ‘This will keep us warm,’ he said and retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He opened it ceremoniously and offered it to Ema. She took a sip, burning liquid radiated warmth down her throat. He took a swig too, then said, ‘I was anticipating this meeting, though I wasn’t expecting frozen balls as part of the deal.’ Ema smiled but said nothing. ‘So, tell me everything from the beginning. The club was too loud, I had too much to drink. How are your studies? What’s the new job?’

Ema smiled unwillingly as she realised how dull and uneventful her life had been. Looking at the icy sidewalk, she knew he was watching her. ‘You aren’t gonna make it easy on me, are you?’ she said, turning to look at him. He shook his head, nudged her with his shoulder and encouraged her to continue.

‘Besides studies, I used to wait tables at a restaurant for the past three years. I just got a part-time job at Outfits. The company is glam, but the job is crappy: an errand girl who does everything no one wants to do. I live in a shaggy flat in Justiniškės.’

Leo smiled as he said, ‘Wasn’t that painful, was it? Why did you move out of your Mum’s?’

She shrugged, then offered a stingy smile. ‘Asta and me, like oil and water, we don’t blend well. Long story.’

‘I’ve got time,’ he said. They were walking under the White Bridge lit by a chain of lights lined against the railing, which reflected on the ice as a handful of spilled out stars.

‘First year of college, I was seventeen, still a minor. Around then, she discovered her parental instinct, tried to introduce a curfew,’ Ema said, pushing her hands deep into her pockets. ‘We got into a nasty fight; she made an ultimatum. I moved out.’ He squeezed her shoulder and told her he was sorry to hear it. She shrugged. ‘Just the usual dysfunction of the Lingytė household,’ she said. ‘Do you still play basketball?’

‘For pleasure. I got a scholarship to play for University of Massachusetts, but then I ripped my Achilles and had to say goodbye to a professional career.’

‘Shit, sorry about that,’ she said. ‘I always pictured you as an NBA star.’ The corners of her eyes peeking from under the scarf indicated a smile.

He took a big sip from the bottle. ‘Shit happens,’ he said, then passed her the bottle. ‘Boyfriend or girlfriend?’ he asked. ‘I often wondered if maybe you were gay.’

Her eyes popped with disbelief. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’ She sounded more hurt than she intended.

‘It’s okay. You don’t need to pretend with me.’

‘I'm not gay. I have a boyfriend.’ She frowned, bit her lip. ‘Why would you think I’m gay?’

‘The way you used to dress. You spoke like a boy, you acted like one. You never fit in with the girls. No offence.’ She gave something in between a snort and a smile. ‘And you were immune to my charm,’ he added in a lower voice, as a self-satisfied smile lifted the corners of his lips.

‘Oh that!’ She laughed. ‘Subtle.’ She grabbed the bottle from him and took a few sips. ‘Humble of you to think a girl has to be gay to resist you. I was immune because I could see through you.’

He laughed, ‘You could, couldn’t you?’

‘All you wanted was to add a chick to your victory list and make her history. You stuck around me because you couldn’t get into my pants.’

He laughed again and ran his fingers through his hair, ‘That’s a very unfair assessment!’

‘Too bad,’ she said, feeling guilty she was enjoying this too much.

‘So, tell me about that boyfriend of yours.’

She gave the bottle back to him, pushed her hands back into the pockets and exhaled a cloud of breath. ‘We met half a year ago,’ she said. ‘He’s Russian, but he grew up in the States.’

Leo appeared displeased. ‘I could never picture you with a Russian!’

‘But you could picture me as a lesbian. Touché.’

They kept walking, sipping from the bottle until the end of the promenade, where they turned around to walk back. ‘What are you doing on winter holidays?’ he asked then.

‘I have to work and get ready for exams.’

‘Come on, Em. Don’t tell me you’ll spend one of the last student holidays working. Let’s get out of the city. Just us.’

She stopped abruptly. ‘Have you developed a lazy eye or were you actively looking at me when you said us?’

She made him laugh again, she’d always had that power. ‘I think it’s a splendid idea,’ he said.

‘It’s a terrible idea,’ she said. He smiled, gave her the bottle. ‘So I’m working on a theory here.’ She let out a cloud of breath. ‘You have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend, as we managed to establish tonight. And you want to go away with me, just us?’ She stopped to light a cigarette. ‘Me knowing you suggests that you haven’t given up on putting me on that list of yours.’ 

He giggled, pulled the knot of his scarf. ‘It’s a sophisticated theory,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m a sophisticated girl.’

‘It’s just an