“You don’t understand, Jack. You are American. You can work anywhere. Mexico, Europe, anywhere. Your government has agreements with other governments. Russian government has agreement with nobody. No country wants Russian worker. No country gives visa. I was very lucky. The family I work for is very powerful. Only they can get me visa. I can’t quit.”

I chewed on this because I’d never given it much thought before; I’d never had any reason to. I said, “When does your visa expire?”

“Next spring. So I still have time.”

“Time for what?”

“To convince Jesus to marry me.”

Her words slapped me. I felt hurt, bitter. However, I immediately swept these emotions aside. She and Jesus were still a couple. Of course they were. What happened between us, the sex, it was just that: sex. A diversion, an escape, albeit temporary, from Nitro’s death, this island of horrors.

Still, I found myself asking: “You want to marry him?”

“I would be a permanent resident. I would not be forced back to Russia. I could quit job as governess.” She offered a playful smile. “Then I could build cars and make board games too.”

I wasn’t amused; I was jealous. It was stupid. Nothing more was going to happen between Elizaveta and I.

Still…

“So you’re just with him for the visa?” I asked.

Elizaveta’s smiled vanished. “I like him, Jack.”

“Because he has money? Because he can get you a permanent visa?”

Her eyes flared. “Do not judge me, Jack,” she said dangerously. “Not everyone has easy life like you.”

“I’ve had an easy life?” I said, genuinely surprised. “I worked like a dog to get to where I was—”

“But you could get there,” she said. “How many Russian race car drivers do you know? Well?”

“None,” I admitted.

“Because they cannot drive race car? Nyet. Most cannot buy shee-it car. You think they can buy race car? You take much for granted, Jack.” Before I could say anything, she added: “Let me tell you, okay? I lived in building with six other families. I woke up before light every morning just to avoid line for bath. In winter my floor, the fourth, was always very cold, but the third floor was always very humid with steam. Go figure. My school was also always very cold. You needed jacket, hat, scarf. Sometimes the ink in pens would freeze. The children I taught—you know what they all wanted?”

I shrugged. “To become astronauts?”