Dzhokhar (Jahar) -- Before the Bombing

Dzhokhar (Jahar) -- Before the Bombing -- Part 3

Dzhokhar approached the door to his dorm room with a warning:  "Just watch out for my attack cat -- her technique is a killer." As he opened the door, we were greeted by a half grown calico Persian who proceeded to pad confidently towards Dzhokhar as if she knew the routine, and was as promptly picked up and cuddled.  "This is Peep."

I was slightly taken aback -- wasn't entering into his private domain supposed to be risking some sort of a seduction scene, from all the rumors I'd heard? -- and yet here he was by my side sweeping his cat off her feet and burying his face in her fur.

"C'mon Peep, you need to see this!" With Peep comfortably flipped onto her back, her tail trailing down and being cradled like a baby in his lap, Dzhokhar sat down in front of his computer and brought up a youtube video to full screen. "I recorded this a few weeks ago."

I knelt down next to him.  Just seconds into the video, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The scene in the video was simple:  he teasingly told his three-year-old niece Zahara to get out of his room, she pleaded with him to stay, he then gave her a kiss and told her to leave, and the pleading started all over again.  I marveled at how, in less than a short minute, the clip seemed to capture everything about his love for Zahara and hers for him. I was enchanted by their closeness,  the tender way he interacted with her. Not to mention how hilariously funny he was!

At the same time, I found the psych major in me translating that interaction into an adult relationship. Is he a come here, go away kind of guy? You plead to be near him, he keeps telling you to leave. Then he grants you a kiss and sends you away. Just when you are without hope, he calls you back for another kiss -- only to send you away again. And then when you go back to pleading, he -- laughs!

For God's sake, Jenny, can't the therapist in you just keep her frigging mouth shut for awhile????

Steady, steady, don't analyze.  "She adores you."

"She's a crazy cute kid.  Tam is so lucky."

"You know, Dzhokhar, I think it's just possible you're showing some potential for being a good father!"

His face grew serious. "Maybe sooner than you'd think."

"What do you mean?"

"It's my mother. She's tryina arrange a marriage for me."

At first I thought he was kidding. "Is that for real?"

"She hasn't found anybody. It's just an idea in her head right now."

His expression was so exaggeratedly forlorn in a comic way that I wanted to smile. Were Chechen customs really like this?  "Hey, remember -- you're 19 years old.  You don't have to obey all your mother's wishes."

I was closer, physically, than I had ever been to him. Kneeling next to him, I tried not to be quite so entranced by his face, his olive skin, the soft beginnings of a beard on his chin as well as a moustache. He had always been clean shaven before.  And that almost teasing scent of cloves, mixed with sandalwood.

Gripped by growing desire, I felt an almost desperate need to move away, get my mind clear. As I slowly got to my feet, I heard a furry struggling.  Peep jumped down, and I knew it was time to try to find a way out of his room, aware that I had been too close, too long, and was starting to feel giggly and lightheaded.  He stood as well, and I became acutely conscious of his height.  I glanced up.  The top of my head didn't even reach his shoulders.  His hair was long, dark, falling in natural curls that accentuated the beauty of his face.

He hasn't made a single move, so what are you so worried about? Yourself, maybe?  Silence felt awkward.  I quickly tried to think of something to say. "Dzhokhar, you know something? You have very beautiful hair."

"I get it from my dad," he said, but his tone was matter of fact, not bragging.  "I've seen it in pictures from when he was a youngin."  

"You don't have to walk me home, you know. I can find my way. Walking by myself might even be a good thing."  What I had just said made no sense whatsoever.

"Speaking of changing the subject, Jenny."  He grinned so mischievously I had to laugh.  "When can I see you again?"