Alone again Dorian sat in his window seat, trying to focus on the book in his lap. Émilie was out visiting Charlotte, and he had elected to spend the morning reading by himself instead of keeping Mama company. He hated admitting it, but he was glad to be out of their company.
After Tatya had left, there had been a lot of not so subtle comments about what a nice girl she was from his Mama, and how she hoped they would get to see more of her. Émilie was, as usual, more direct, cornering Dorian the first time she could get him on his own to tell him how Tatya had called him cute and pressing him for details about their non-existent relationship, probing how they felt about each other.
There were three very good reasons why nothing was ever going to happen between him and Tatya.
1). Her parents expected her to marry a good Russian boy. But how could he say to his Chinese mother that his friend’s family disapproved of marrying outside your own culture? It was a subject he had never dared to raise with Tatya, who clearly didn’t feel there was anything wrong with his existence, or at least not to the point of avoiding his friendship, but regardless of how his friend felt about that rule, he did not want to discuss it with his mother.
2). They saw each other as brother and sister. But how could he say that to his real sister, who was bound to get offended at the notion that she was somehow being replaced?
3). He liked a boy instead. But how could he say that without everything falling apart?
He had tried saying that he just didn’t feel like that about Tatya, but that was, effectively, met with the response of ‘yet’ by his mother. He was awfully young. It was ok not to have those kinds of feelings (except he had them). It was just nice to know nice girls (well, it was but…). She was just glad to know his friends (he felt that, at least, was true). Said with the hint that maybe something would happen later on (it wasn’t going to). He didn’t think his mother was fixed on the idea of Tatya, specifically, but there was a definite idea in her mind… Maybe he would develop feelings for this nice friend. Or maybe he wouldn’t, but he would meet some other nice girl, have a nice wedding, and give his mother cute little grandchildren to fuss over.
Except he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t. And the weight of expectations had always been there, but now they had met one of the actual girls in his life, it had become so much more prominent. And he had no idea what to do. He closed the novel in his lap with a sigh, finding he couldn’t focus, and went to his trunk instead, taking out a different book. He didn’t focus on the Chinese writing, meaningful as that gesture had been, but on the pictures, and on the general feel the book gave him, reminding himself that there was someone who might be able to make all of this okay. Even if, right now, she was very far away and he had no way of reaching her. His fingers traced over her illustrations. Even if, right now, she was very far away and he had no way of reaching her, she was also still here.