mirifical
(adj.)
amazing, wondrous, working wonders

•••

"We used our imagination a lot. It was the only way to truly get away. A lot of the times it was all we had."

•••

Light flooded into the stuffy, humid room, waking Natalia in the sweetest way she ever had. No metal chain bruising her wrist. No screaming Madame. It was completely peaceful. She opened her eyes and looked around the room to see that the curtain had just been opened.

"We need to get moving," said James."The Russian spy density is still extremely high in Belarus."

And the mood is ruined.

"They don't want anyone to know who we are though," said Natalia, not wanting to believe that they could still actually get to them. "And really, if we fight back, how are they going to take us back?"

He sighed. "There is no telling what they may have told the spies. And you very well know what kind of weapons they have. And then... what they do to me: they'll do to both of us."

"Kurosho. Let's go," she said ruffling her hair and beginning to roll it into a tight bun.

"Here, I'll braid to you head before we go. It's getting warmer outside," he offered, holding out his hands.

<Okay,> she agreed, Turing around and leaning her head back. James reached inside his back and pulled out a fingerless glove that had grip on it and pulled it over his slick, silver left hand.

Quickly he weaved her crimson hair in and out and around until it was in tight, well done French braid.

They both grabbed their bags and took a few swift steps toward the door. "You wiped the room, da?"

"Yeah," he said. "We wouldn't know that we were here."

And they sent off, well disguised with a skip in their step. They walked the dirty, secluded streets of the capital city of Belarus, knowing they were less likely to be sighted.

Even though this place was a separate country, Soviet Russia had made its way out here, too, meaning Soviet spies and hired watchmen everywhere. Every citizen were paid or forced—depending on where you live—to look out for everything and inform the Union for anything asked for or any they would consider to be suspicious. Some would keep quiet, but if they were caught, they would surely be punished. Death or the Gulag. Every time.

When the day was over, they traveled almost halfway between Minsk and the border of Poland. They could have boarded a train or stole a car, but it would have only raised suspicions and gives clues to anyone investigating their disappearance. They slept in another motel and continued on their way.

They walked along the sidewalk of a back alley away from the wandering eye the people. The sights weren't the most envious. The smells weren't the most alluring. But the fact that they were away from their prison with each other was enough.

<I was thinking,> Natalia express.

<That can't be good,> James said with a laugh. They were both speaking in Russian to blend in better to the country. They could speak Belrussian, but in the county, due to the overtake of Russia, more people spoke Russian than their original language.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his teasing. <I was thinking,> she repeated. <Well— I was wondering more-so. What our lives would have been like if the Red Room didn't exist.>

<Better?> he asked in a sarcastic tone.

Natalia scoffed. <Well, yeah. But what would life had been like?>

James smiled sadly and looked to the sky and back to Natalia. <You know, I think about this a lot.>

She slipped her hand into his as they continued down the path. <Well, what do you think?>

<What do I think?> he asked with a smile. <Well, I don't know why, but I seem to be fairly familiar with America and I feel comfortable just thinking about it. Really, I like to think that its where I'm from. It helps me cope sometimes.>

<Well, tell me about it,> Natalia urged James.

He sighed and squeezed her hand tighter. <I imagine that we'd meet at a diner, y'know? And that we'd dance all night. That we'd be the last ones there. I'd buy us a root-beer float or a milkshake and just talk until we couldn't keep our eyes open.>

<That's very American,> she nodded.

He scoffed. <See what I mean?>

She waited for him to say more, but he had just stopped and was looked around at the poverty stricken neighborhood. <Keep going,> she egged, hitting their locked hands against his hip.

<Keep going?> he asked with a laugh.

Natalia nodded happily. James smiled and continued. <Well... after that, I'd walk you home and kiss you goodnight. And your father would hate me. You mother would love me. I'd take you out dancing every Friday night. We could visit the museum. I could take you on the roller coaster at Coney Island and I'd win one if those big bears for you. We'd take long walks in the park and talk... sorta like this only we wouldn't be on the run.>

<More,> Natalia ordered, her bright smile ranging from ear to ear.

<Well... we'd fall in love. Just the way we are now. But we wouldn't want to be married. Not yet.>

<Why not?> She asked, the smiled still plastered across her pale face.

<The war,> he said. <But when I'd go off and fight, you'd wait for me. And I can see you even joining the military. The first woman in the American Military. Then, when the war was over, we'd celebrate. Wed celebrate with all the friends we would have made. We'd be together again and it would feel so good. We could start our lives.

<That's when I'd ask your father if I could have your have your hand in marriage. He would want to say no, but he would have learned from all those years, that I would have treated you like a Queen. That you would never be hurt in any kind of way. Then we would be married. We wouldn't sneaking around like we are now. It would be a beautifully extravagant ceremony in your church.>

<So we'd be happy.> Natalia said, letting the image soak into her mind, leaning her head on his shoulder.

<We'd be so happy. I'd buy us a house in the suburbs. White picket fence. I don't know what my job would be. Maybe a salesman. Or maybe I stick with the military. We'd have two gorgeous children."

Children. The idea made her feel so many emotions. She would love a child if the Red Room was out of the picture. Especially one with James. But it also made her so angry that the red room had taken the right to have children away from Natalia. And it only depressed her to know that she did have a child. One who was so brutally murdered by the people who made her life so horrible. And they said it was for the better. No, it wasn't for the better, Natalia thought.

<What would the children be like?> she asked him. His face lit up in response.

<A girl and a boy,> he said. <We'd name the boy something classy. Like maybe name him after me, or something like Benjamin or Frank. You would be his favorite. He'd look just like me, but he'd have your personality. He'd be a scary little boy.>

Natalia smiled and delivered a playful smack to his arm. <I am not scary,> she laughed.

He only smiled back. <You know you are, you liar!> he laughed.

<You've got me in a box,> she admitted with a grin. He only smiled and winked. <Tell me about the little girl.>

<Now the girl. She look just like you. Carbon copy. We would name her after a red flower—like Poppy or Poinsettia,> he said running his fingers along Natalia's braid. <But she'd be my girl. She'd think like me.>

<But we'd have her dance right?> Natalia asked dreamily.

<Of course,> he answered. <As long as Junior plays baseball.>

<You know it, baby,> she answered.

<And they'd be the most talented kids ever,> James answered. <With no Red Room, Poppy would be so good that she would go dance at the Bolshoi. Junior would play baseball in the MLB. And do you know what we would do?>

<What?> she asked, not being able to wipe the grin off her face.

<We would just sit back and enjoy it. Life, love, and happiness. We would just live. We could travel a little with Junior and Poppy and see the world. And we'd just grow old together. All these milestones would happen. Junior would be married first. He'd move away to play baseball. We wouldn't see him a lot after he turned 25. Then Poppy would come home at her 25 years of age. She'd be too old to dance anymore without getting hurt. And she would enjoy the hometown life with us.

<I'd—no—you would threaten her boyfriend. But, of course he'd be the one and before we know it, I'd be walking her down the aisle. And soon enough I'd retire. Junior and his wife would have their fist baby and we'd travel down there to visit for a while. But when our girl has her first baby, you and I would be worried sick the entire time. And since she'd live so close, we'd practically raise that grandbaby. And life would just go on.>

<Life would just go on,> Natalia repeated. She loved that phase. And the way James said it. She could see it in her mind. A clear picture of she and James, twice as old as they are now—something that may never happen. She had her graying red hair pinned back into a tight bun. Her dress, something she would've worn only so many years ago. James wore khakis and a a white button down shirt with suspenders. His also graying hair had been neatly swept back. She imagined herself placing loving hand on his left arm to feel warm, soft flesh with blood flowing through it. She knew that that was one of the things he longed for the most.

They are sitting in the cool grass. The warm air comforter both of them. And then, coming up the hill were two adults and two children. It was their children and grandchildren. And James was right. Junior looked just like him. To have James's names was only fitting. And Poppy was certainly as beautiful as one. She did look just like Natalia— only she had inherited James's height, leaving Natalia as the short one.

She imagined Poppy and Junior sitting down with she and James and just talked. Talked about anything. The weather, politics, ballet or baseball. And as the talked they watched the young children play in the grass. They watched them fight, pick up bugs, eat dirt. The children were free to have fun. There were no chains on them. And there were no chains on James and Natalia. The only way to describe the feeling of the scene was freedom.

<We'd live until we were 103,> James said. <We'd have five grandkids and seven great grandkids. And one night, a night after everyone had gathered together and mingled and had a good time, you and I would go to bed. And we wouldn't wake up to them. We'd wake up to the gates of Heaven. We did a great job on earth and it was our turn to live in the Glory of Heaven. And the people that we love—the people that loved us—would weep. But they'd understand after a few years. And then they'd join us there. And we'd live an eternity of happiness together.>

<I love you, James,> Natalia said sweetly. He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought his right hand over to place it lovingly on her face for a fleeting second.

Natalia had never felt more loved by anyone than James. It was mirifical. The very fact that she was walking down this poverty stricken street hand and hand with him was enough to plunge her in to disbelief.

Yet here they were...

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