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Vasily Borisovich Borgov has something of a complicated view on fatherhood. Or rather, a complicated role as a father. Not that things did not start out simple enough, with his marriage to a woman he respects and likes well enough, the two of them connecting more when it comes to personality and intellect than passion, but happy to share their lives all the same, and then the birth of Mikhail a few years later. Due to her role as his interpreter, he has even been uniquely blessed with the fact that his family has been allowed to go with him to most of his tournaments outside the USSR, once his son was old enough to travel, of course. The two KGB agents they must have on their tail at all times is a small price to pay for such a privilege. And for many years that had been more than enough and all there was to it. He could focus on his chess career, become World Champion, be a good husband, love his son and make sure to be the father Misha deserves.
Today, however, he is about to come face to face with the complicated side for the first time.
It is the 1980 Chess Olympiad, held in Valletta, the capital of Malta. A very warm and sunny place - at least by comparison - this late in the year, which does a little to alleviate his anxiety and relax him. He has taken to walking by the seaside, either alone or with Dima, as much as possible when not busy playing or practicing. Apart from one rainy day, the weather allows for it so far and the brimmed hat he wears is more for providing some protection from the insistent glare of the sun than it is to help keep him warm. But as much as he can agree it is a beautiful place, he pays it little attention, his mind occupied elsewhere most of the time. Specifically on a piece of information included in a letter he received about a month ago from the US.
Beth Harmon-Townes will be arriving late and one of the reserves of the US team has played board 1 in her stead for the first few games. She is lucky the man has done well enough to not risk her team's score overly much and she will no doubt be able to make up the difference quickly. The current World Champion rarely performs below expectations, no matter how high they might be.
While her absence might have raised eyebrows in most other situations, the current one has the understanding of anyone he does not deem to be a complete idiot or insufferable fool, but then he is rather biased. Because the reason for her delay is that both of her little twins had caught a fever and her refusing to leave them during such circumstances, which had ended up with her remaining at home during the first days of the tournament. She had, after all, said that she would bring them along for the first time, and she tended to be a woman who stuck by whatever course of action she had decided on.
But now the little family will arrive any moment according to Dima, who had asked around among the organisers until he managed to find out, and he has placed himself, along with his friend - who is there as their team captain and not to play - in the hotel lobby. It is during the middle of the day, when the outside is at its warmest, which tempts most people to go out there, leaving the inside almost deserted. To explain to any potential curious eyes why he is not out there as well like usual, he sits with the only newspaper in Russian that is available, but only really skims the headlines on each spread before waiting a few minutes to turn the page. He only has two pages left when there is a commotion by the entrance, and he looks up to see six people enter. Three adults and two young children, followed by a bellhop with a luggage cart stacked with bags.
His eyes go immediately to Liza. She looks more or less as she ever has, motherhood still only having softened her body a little. But no matter how her appearance might change over the years, he knows for sure she will always be the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Though, someone to admire only from afar these days.
To her right walks her husband, Dean Lucas Townes, proper as always in a casual but expensive looking suit with an open coat on top. And on his right, there is a young woman he is unfamiliar with, but with enough resemblance to what can only be her brother, despite her eyes being blue rather than dark brown, for him to identify her as Peggy Townes. An aunt clearly come along to help with the children and now walking with the little boy and girl on either side of her, holding their hands.
And lastly, his eyes travel down to the children. At four years of age, they look around them with wide curious eyes, constantly threatening to trip over their own feet in their distraction. Dressed in little coats and colourful hats on their little heads with matching scarves and mittens around their necks and on their hands, they definitely make for an adorable sight. Only a few dark strands of hair are peeking out from under the boy's hat, but a dark braid falls down next to each of the girl's ears with blue ribbons tied into bows at their ends.
For a moment he cannot move, think, or breathe. All he can do is to feel the sudden whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him, a distant and detached part of his mind wondering where he will land. How he will deal with this. What he might do or say.
But it is decided for him when two pairs of blue eyes - not the same shade as their aunt's - are turned towards him and he can see the reflection of himself in their small faces. In that moment he knows he must interact with them somehow before they all depart the island.
Liza spots him mere seconds later and falters in her step before looking back ahead and resuming the walk up to the front desk. Her husband notices too and stops her before he leans over to whisper something to her and they have a hushed and hasty conversation, the result of which soon becomes obvious. Mr Townes handles the check in, most of their little family accompanying him, while Liza breaks away from them and moves in his direction. He stands up to be better prepared to greet her.
"Good to see you again, Mr Borgov" she says and offers him her hand to shake, looking all prim and proper in an open green coat over a black and beige dress. But the warmth in her eyes is the memory of a whispered of 'Vasya' in his ear while he holds her close.
"Mrs Harmon-Townes" he forces himself to say, still not reconciled with the no longer new title or added name. If things had been different. If there were not an Iron Curtain and endless entrenchments of political games of high stake between them, he would have offered her a different name to add to the one she was born with when she went from Miss to Mrs. A different name for the children as well, even if they themselves would have been the same.
"Liza, dear" Dima greets her as warmly as ever, not afraid to pull her into a hug while grinning. It comes from a place of a mutually highly valued friendship between the two, but also works as a great cover for the very different and extremely complicated relationship between himself and the young woman.
"Dima. Wonderful to see you. Life's still treating you well it would seem" she replies, having finally given up on calling him Luchenko only a few years ago.
"Ah, you know me. Not one to say no to the good things in life" his friend replies and laughs while patting his belly, which is a little bit wider since the last time he saw Liza. "And life is good to you too, yes. I see you have finally brought your children along for the rest of us to marvel over. I am sure they are a credit to their parents."
Liza's eyes almost move to him at those words, but she manages to refrain. There can be no indication of the truth between them, with the KGB ever present in his life and no doubt eager to get proof of the vague suspicion they have. Because, if they know for sure who the identity of the father of those twins are, they might not hesitate to try to bring them to the USSR, with or without their mother. The children of two of the best chess players in history too tempting to resist, no matter the political backlash it would no doubt cause. And so, he has had to go the first four years of their lives without seeing them. Not so much as a photo or more than a very occasional and very casual mention in one of Liza’s letters. Sometimes she writes something to Dima instead, spreading the information, but knowing it will always reach him.
"Yes, they are. Such clever little darlings. And so well behaved. I'm sure they get it as much from their father as from me, if not more."
"And how is Dean?" Luchenko asks after throwing a quick glance his way, one of very few people who insists on using the man's given name rather than the surname he prefers.
"He's very well. We have his sister, Peggy, with us to help look after the twins since I'll be busy with either games or preparations most of the time and my husband only got permission from work to come along if he writes an article about the island. But she's very good with them and they adore her. A definite favourite aunt, much to Jolene and his other two sister's chagrin. But we are going to stay a few days after the tournament as well, to get some vacation time too."
Just then the rest of the group comes over and Vasily can barely move as he watches the little boy and girl up close, eager to lay every little detail about their appearances firmly in his memory. They truly have his colouring, but more of their mother's features. It is a striking combination, and he wishes he could have been there to see it all take form from the more nondescript mould he finds most new-borns and young babies share. To be there to help them learn to walk and hear their first words. To help feed them when they grew old enough for food and take them to a playground when the weather was good and help them down the slide or push them on the swings. To tend to the scrapes and bruises children invariably manage to get and to read to them at night before tucking them in. And all the other little things he had done for Misha but would never be able to do for them.
"This is Basil and Lily" Liza introduces the children to the both of them and while Luchenko engages with them in a shamelessly grandfatherly way, he is still frozen to the spot, even if his mind is screaming at him to move. To act normal. To not let either of the two KGB agents lurking in the corner see that his reaction is a lot more than that of someone meeting the children of a nowadays polite acquaintance for the first time.
She had mentioned their names in one of her earliest letters after their birth, but he is just as touched by her choices now as he was then.
Lily. The flower he had once mentioned to her is his favourite.
Basil. The English version of his own name.
His children.
That he has to pretend are not his.
That he has to know are out there in the world without him.
That he has to feel the presence of in his heart and soul but keep his love from.
Luchenko gives him enough time to recover and then he has to pretend that it does not break his heart when the first time he gets to meet his own children it is by playful handshakes rather than hold them in his arms before their first hour alive is over. It is a travesty and against nature, but he had walked into this with his eyes open. Knew what was asked of him and agreed. Anything for her.
"Good to meet you, Basil" he says after getting down on one knee and shakes his son's hand before turning to his daughter and doing the same. "Good to meet you, Lily. You can both call me Vasily if you like."
They giggle at what they perceive to be a game. And it truly is, just not fully in the way they think. At least they do not shy away from him even if he cannot be as effusive and naturally charming as Dima. But he is able to speak to them directly now after he has painstakingly learned English until fluent with the help of his friend. The twins will never be taught Russian, and he refuses to be cut off from them in that way as well.
"Vasily?" Basil repeats his name slowly, but the inflection also turns it into a question, as if wanting confirmation that he got it right, and it warms him to hear his name spoken so well by his son.
"Yes. Might I call you Basil? And you Lily?"
"Mhm" the little boy happily agrees after looking to his parents for reassurance and getting it.
"Vasly?" Lily then makes her own attempt, the frown on her face telling him she knows she did not say it right.
"Va-si-ly" he spells out for her, keeping his voice as gentle and encouraging as possible, and can then see how she tries it out in her mind before making a second attempt.
"Vasily" she says.
"Just so. Well done."
She beams up at him and he has to clasp his hands together and hold on tight in order to not reach out and pull her into his arms. Not even his pride is allowed to show more than the tiniest bit. Instead, he stands back up and says goodbye, afraid he might reveal too much if he stays. His friend also bids a hasty goodbye and follows him up to his room, in which he quickly shuts them in before his composure can betray him to anyone else.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Luchenko asks him, knowing better than to ask if he is well.
"Nothing more than your usual support, I think" he says and slumps down on the sofa, only to get up a few seconds later and walk over to the door to the balcony and out through it to the railing, looking down at the people milling about on the street below. If they are to discuss the topic, it must be done where no potential bugs can let the KGB know the truth.
A familiar hand is placed on his shoulder, but for a moment he wants nothing more than to shake it off and just scream, since it is not the hand he wants to feel. Not the person he wants next to him, even if it is his dearest friend in the world. He wants only her. The woman he simply cannot stop loving. The woman whose touch he can still feel the memory of and dreams about with undiminishing regularity, despite it being half a decade since he last felt it. The woman who has given him two of his children.
"I cannot even imagine how difficult this must be for you" Dima says eventually, his hand by now only a comfort, because to be completely alone would be so much worse.
"I can barely grasp it myself" he says, admitting his weakness. "It is too painful yet to properly describe. I want nothing more than to hold them close. To be their father. To love them. But they are out of reach, which is as it should be. Because I am nothing but a danger to them."
"You are nothing of the kind. Our government is, not you. Even now you are protecting them, and in due time, they will learn the truth. I have no doubt about it. And until that time, all you can do is to hide your feelings, yet be there for them whenever you are given the chance. I do think Liza will make sure you will be able to see them from time to time now that they are old enough to travel with her to these things. She clearly still loves you too, my friend.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he recentres himself. Anchors himself to this truth. Or maybe it is more of a hope, but he will take whatever he can. His role, until the world changes enough that they can tell the truth, will be that of an observer and very rarely more. He will see the twins as often as it is possible and act the role of being nothing more than their mother's chess acquaintance who will be mildly interested in talking a little to them if they happen to run into each other at any hotel around the world.
Consequently, when he and Dima arrive in the hotel restaurant for lunch only minutes after them and they are invited to join their table, he talks mostly with Liza and a little with her husband too. The man knows chess enough and is also a fellow journalist. Though, their interests are reversed, with Mr Townes being a journalist foremost and having more of a passing interest in chess these days, while the game is his own passion and his work as a journalist more of a formality.
The children sit with their aunt at the other end of the table, slowly eating their meal with surprisingly little messiness for being so young. When not fully focused on their food, their blue eyes wander the room, taking it all in. Rarely do they rest on him. Or at least he thinks so since he forces himself to not look at them too often. For the world at large, they should hold very little interest to him, so that is what he must portray. To keep them safe.
The night before their game, because he is still board 1 thankfully, he is too distracted to prepare properly and instead goes through many of his memories of his and Liza’s time as lovers. It had started as nothing more than the both of them acknowledging their mutual attraction and desire and intending to satisfy it before moving on. That had been at a tournament in Helsinki in late 1969. His first since he had defended his title for the second and what would turn out to be the last time as he had lost it to her three years later. But as they explored each other’s bodies, they had quickly come to learn that feelings were involved. Feelings that did not take much effort to deepen into something more profound than either of them had ever anticipated or felt before.
And they had managed to keep it up for over five years that had been glorious during those stolen moments they could snatch away from reality. Not even when she had married one of her two best friends had that changed. Rather, that union had been entered in part due to their love. Due to the fact that she loved a man who could not offer her all that she deserved, because the world would not let him. The other part was due to the terrible fate of a young man by the name of Roger Dione, who had been arrested at the wrong kind of party and suspiciously not surviving the night in the holding cell at the police station. Terrified that her friend would be found out and face a similar fate to that of his partner, Liza had suggested that she and Mr Townes should get engaged and then married. It would be a marriage based on love, even if it was platonic rather than romantic, and they would both be free to pursue the latter – or to simply satisfy any physical needs - discreetly on the side.
He can still remember the first night they had been able to share since her wedding, when she had forgotten to take off the ring, and seeing it glinting in the light had felt like a physical blow right in his gut. He had known the truth from the start, as she had told him of her plan in person the first chance she got, but to see her tied to another person the way he had been since before they first met, was still painful. One more thing to drive home how impossible a happy ending for the two of them had been, even if they did the best they could to forget about that when together.
Not that it had been overly difficult to forget while they lost themselves in each other. Swept away by a desire so strong everything else seemed inconsequential by comparison. Both of them addicted to being so loved and needed by another person not related by blood that they had been unable to stay away.
But as with so many other things – be they good, bad, or wonderful – it eventually had to come to an end, and theirs arrived three years later. The KGB were getting more and more annoyed with his affair as Liza continued to dominate the world of chess and his wins and draws against her becoming less frequent, even if there was yet anyone else among the Soviets players who could do better. And then, she had asked something lifechanging of him.
She wanted a child. However, she did not want to ask her husband to endure being intimate with her, both for his own sake and because she was afraid it would complicate their friendship. Instead, she had come to him. With Mr Townes’ dark hair and some members of his family having blue eyes, no one would be able to find out the truth no matter how the child would turn out.
He had agreed right away, but also explained the realities of such a course of action. Of the danger it could potentially put her and their child in, which meant that from the moment she could confirm that she was pregnant, their relationship would end. No one - especially the KGB - must ever be able to find out the truth. Or at least not be able to do more than suspect. She had accepted that, but as she tended to do, she stuck to her decision. She had made up her mind, and they both knew that they could not go on forever anyway.
They had both cried that night, as well as eight months later during their second tournament together since that agreement. Her doctor had told her that she was pregnant just a few weeks earlier, meaning all forms of intimacy was at an abrupt end. That they were at an end.
It was the one and only time she had asked him to defect for her. To leave everything behind for their love. For her. And it had been so tempting, but no matter if it was strength or weakness that motivated him, he could not leave his family behind or ask them to uproot themselves completely only so he could be with another. Or worse, fail in the attempt and lose it all. Lose everyone.
He had explained all of that at the beginning of their relationship when she had asked for his thoughts about the future in more general terms after their first night spent together. She had accepted his answer then, and even if he could see that it cost her a lot more to do so that second time, she still did it. Still showed her immense strength of character as she pulled herself together and nodded, all while her eyes and cheeks glittered with tears.
She had told him how much she loves him, and he expressed his own love for her, and then they parted after a final kiss. Nothing but acquaintances that talk a bit at tournaments and play correspondence chess with a discussion about theory and old games as well as some personal notes to go with each letter from that moment on.
And here he is, being in the same place as his younger children for the first time. Catching glimpses of them daily and even interacting a few times, mostly due to Dima. A couple more times in the hotel lobby and restaurant, but the most significant occasion occurring on the second to last day.
He and Dima are out walking as usual a while after breakfast, and heads for the public beach a few minutes from the hotel. When they arrive, their eyes are soon drawn to two young children building a sandcastle, despite the season, at a safe distance from the water. He instantly recognises them, and then does the same with the three adults sitting on a large blanket two or three metres away.
It is clearly an outing for the entire family, with the adults watching the children as they play, and having lots of fun doing so despite being quite bundled up in proper outerwear, which hinders their movements a tiny bit. There is a picknick basket as well, and when Dima goes over to say hello, him following at a slightly more measured pace, they are invited to join them.
“Please, it’s only some coffee and cakes and we have more than enough for the two of you as well” Mr Townes says, a genuine smile directed their way.
“Then how could we possibly refuse such a generous offer” Dima replies and plops down before he can voice any objections. Not that he would be able to, even if it might not be the wisest course of action to spend time with them in a space even more public than the hotel.
They sit talking for a little while until it is time to eat and drink, and cups filled with the steaming dark brew and pieces of a lovey chocolate cake are soon distributed among the adults. He does not question why there are two extra cups. Since the two groups had run into each other out here before, though only exchanging greetings, he assumes that they had been a hopeful addition when packing the basket. A smaller thermos containing hot chocolate has been brought for the children, and judging by how eagerly they abandon their little plastic spades and buckets when Liza calls for them to come have some, it is surely a favourite of theirs.
“Now, what do we say when we have guests?” Mr Townes asks and nudges the twins gently before they get a small cup each of the light brown liquid that is thankfully not warm enough to steam.
Only then do they realise that he and Dima are sitting there as well, but to his great relief they grin happily at the discovery. Their eyes are bright and cheeks rosy from their playing and the slight nip in the air, and he smiles in return, unable to risk doing anything that might dim their enjoyment of the day.
“Good to see you, Vasily and Dima” they chorus is a clearly practiced way, then giggle.
“And wonderful to see you again, little ones.”
“We’re not little” Lily protests while her brother sticks out his tongue at Dima.
“No, no. My mistake. Now I can clearly see that you are indeed very big. No doubt the biggest four-year-olds the world has ever seen.”
They giggle again at Dima’s mock serious tone, and he finds himself smiling at his friend continuing to treat his children the same way he had done his own grandchildren when they had been that age. And for the coming hour they spend down at the beach, it truly feels like they are all part of the same family. Like there is no complicated world around them that makes the usual mummery a necessity.
Best of all, though, is when Liza tells the twins that they should take this opportunity to ask him for a story they have never heard before, and excited blue eyes turn his way, silently but eagerly begging him for the treat. They even move closer as he tells them a slightly milder version of ‘Vasilisa the Beautiful’ – downplaying the cruelty of the stepmother and stepsisters a little, as well as the scariness of Baba Yaga - the tale of the beautiful and kind, yet brave, young woman having been his favourite as a child, looking enchantingly attentive and hanging on his every word. And when they ask for more when he is done, he recites the fairytale of ‘The Giant Turnip’ for something more humorous, and is richly rewarded by their laughter as the farmer’s struggle to pull out the huge root vegetable becomes more and more silly as it involves more and more people and even animals. He even adds a few steps to it, wanting to prolong the precious moment for as long as possible. Telling it in English ruins the rhyme of the original version in Russian anyway, so only Dima will be aware of the change.
It is a memory that he knows will sustain him for many years to come.
But eventually the tournament reaches its end and it time to depart without showing how much he would like to stay. By some miracle – or more likely his friend’s machinations - the family happens to be in the lobby when the Soviet delegation checks out. Having been among the first to perform the task, along with his friend, they are free to walk over to them while the rest of their large contingent hands in their keys and their departures are noted in the hotel ledger.
The twins have already taken to treating Dima as a grandfather and happily greets him and are then appropriately sad when told he is about to go back home and be unable to see them again for a long time. They hug him goodbye, and Vasily wishes more than anything to switch places with his friend. To be able to be the one to hold his children close.
“Are you leaving too, Vasily?” Lily asks him then, taking him somewhat by surprise with the genuine upset clearly shown on her face.
“I’m afraid I am” he replies, then gets down on one knee to be on her level, “we have played all the games now, so we have to go back home.”
“But we won’t go home yet. Can’t you stay with us?” she insists, pouting adorably and fidgeting with one of her braids a little as she steps even closer to him.
“Yeah, mum and dad and auntie say we’ll be here for days longer” Basil says as he joins them, clearly not wanting to be left out and sounding much too exasperated over this fact than someone his age should be able to experience.
“I’m sure you will enjoy it” he replies, hoping to offer some comfort. “There are many nice places to explore, and your mother will be able to join you more now.”
His eyes glide up to Liza as he mentions her, unable to resist the pull. And for those few seconds – that are probably too long – that their eyes meet, he allows himself the fantasy of it being the two of them and their children only. That it is them about to make plans for how to spend the extra days they stay after the tournament is over. That it will be him and not Mr Townes and Miss Townes helping her with their children.
The sound of the USSR contingent starting to move towards the entrance breaks the spell and he quickly looks back down to the little copies of his eyes that still regard him sadly. Giving them a small smile, he then offers them his hand.
“I need to go now, but it was very nice to meet you, Lily and Basil. And maybe we will see each other again in the future if your mother brings you with her to more tournaments. And I promise to tell you another story if so.”
But the children have clearly inherited some unexpected penchant for being affectionate – or maybe it is the result of growing up with such a compassionate and affectionate man as Mr Townes in the role of father – and they ignore his hand and go in for a hug instead. And so, he finds himself unexpectedly encircled by little arms that do their best to reach around him while little faces burrow into his coat. Part of him thinks that maybe they can feel the connection between them. That they can somehow sense that he is their real father. But in the end that does not matter. They must be kept in the dark along with everyone else for many years. Only if the world will change enough for the better in the future will they be told, and he hopes not only that it will come to pass, but that he will be able to be there. To be acknowledged by them as their father.
But until that hypothetical day, the only part of fatherhood he can perform for them, is to do everything humanly possible to protect them. Even at the cost of his own heart.
He arrives home late in the evening the day after, having stayed the night with Dima and his wife in Moscow before boarding a train to Leningrad after an early lunch. His wife happily greets him with the customary hug, and Misha is there as well, having finished with his studies for the day. His oldest son is such a fine young man these days, studying engineering at university and being two months into seeing a young woman he has met there. It is a balm to his bruised heart and soul to find himself back in uncomplicated territory, and while they all sit and talk over a cup of tea each for a while, what he has just left behind recedes enough to the back of his mind that true contentment fills him.
It is only later, when he goes through the section of the bookshelf that contains novels rather than his vast collection of chess books, looking for something to read in bed, that the full scope of his life makes itself reminded. However, instead of the mixed emotions he had expected would descend on him, he only smiles as he spots the collection of fairytales that he used to read to Misha when he was a young boy. He pulls it out and brings it with him, determined to brush up his memory on the topic. After all, he has a promise he needs to keep.