I’d never felt a moment of cathartic relief like that one, not even when I was flying from Moscow to Yamal and had to wait outside the bathroom for forty minutes until the bearded geologist in there woke up. I really had to go, too, and I didn’t need to pee.
“Is it just me or are you upset that we aren’t going to have a kid?” Vika wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her face against my chest. “I am, too. You know what? Forget Zimin. You can go talk to him tomorrow.”
You snake! It was all a clever, calculated plan. Her hand started to work, and her smell was intoxicating. An aphrodisiac? She was going all out.
“Tomorrow?” I smiled what I thought was a charming smile and stepped away from her. “Tomorrow is the day of the holiday, and who knows what plans he’ll have? No, babe, I wouldn’t want to put off something that has such an impact on our mutual happiness. I’ll go talk to him right now.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t want or was afraid of kids. I just wanted to have them… Damn it, I don’t know when. Definitely not then, at a point when I didn’t know when all of the chaos around me was going to finish. It was still up in the air whether I’d live to see the end, and she was talking about kids.
Regardless, I’d never heard of any of my friends including their wives getting pregnant in their plans. Soon or later, they just threw up their arms.
“Ah, this is the worst time!”
“Damn it, how did she manage to get pregnant?”
Obviously, things like that are only said with other men around; you can’t go saying them to the future mother. Even if she’s just three weeks in, the toxicosis, teariness, and weird ideas (I want a Colombian papaya) have already begun. The men who have been through the hell known as “her first pregnancy” can just stand around and watch their friend, doomed to eight months of suffering, torment, and nighttime runs to the store for chocolate with nuts. There’s an understanding and sympathy in their eyes that tells you they know what’s ahead.
There is, of course, a bonus built into the system—three days of absolute bliss. It’s a short window where the baby is already born, and the wife is okay, but you can’t bring them home from the hospital. During those three days, the happy father can say goodbye to his old life forever and start looking forward to the future.
I dashed over to the door and rubbed my forehead. She’s got me good. All I’d won was a short respite, too. This is bad…
***
“Everything’s ready,” Lika said at the reception desk as I ran by with bulging eyes. “They brought the jewelry and the box like they promised, and I already wrapped it and stuck a bow on top.”
“What?” I’d completely forgotten about the present for Vika. “Oh, the jewelry, right. That’s good.”
“Would you like it now?”
“No, no, just leave it here. Hey, can you call Zimin for me?”
I had just realized that he might not even be in his office since it was getting late. He could have been off ice skating or drinking champagne somewhere.
“Here you go.” Lika handed me the phone, and I could already hear Zimin.
“Hello, who is this?” he asked unhurriedly.
“Max, it’s Kif. I’m going to head up to see you. Are you around?”
“Didn’t we already see each other today? What else do you need?”
“There’s something we need to talk about, something I can’t put off.” I sighed.
Zimin sighed, too. “All right, in that case, come on up.”
“Harriton,” Lika said, demandingly and simply, or, perhaps, remindingly and insistently.
“Lika, we already talked about this,” I said as I handed her the phone. “You don’t have to remind me ten times a day.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” she replied with a sly smile. “Are you going to be picking up your gift on your way back?”
“It may be tomorrow,” I replied thoughtfully. “If I take it back today, she may peek; she’s got a nose like a bloodhound. Will you be working tomorrow?”
“Yep. Claudia and I traded shifts.”
“You wanted a ticket to the party?”
“I do. It’s a status event, always a good idea to show up even for a little while.”
“Why didn’t Claudia want to? That’s weird.”
“She got married, so she’s all about her family, now.”
I leaned up against the desk. “And the other girls? What about them?”
“You snooze, you lose,” Lika replied proudly. “I was first in line.”
“Nice work. I have a good eye for people. Okay, hide that box and give it to me tomorrow night.”
“Your will is my command, my general.”
The hallways were empty, the elevator showed up right away—nobody was in any hurry to go anywhere. That made sense, too, since it was the last night before New Year’s Eve.
***
The preparations for the holiday were still ongoing. A few hefty young men in overalls were setting up the plasma screens, and my mouth fell open when I looked over at them. I’d thought they were just big TVs; they were actually really big TVs. They were practically as large as the enormous pane-glass windows, a good three times as tall as me. That’s just too much. There were five of them, and if they broke out into even an impossibly quiet version of Jingle Bells, I was afraid I might lose my hearing. The bells ringing in the New Year were going to blow my brains out by the third gong.
The thin guy and his fat friend were there, as well, up by the lights near the ceiling, where they were arguing about some kind of lettering.
“You think we need it?” the fat one asked sarcastically.
“It’s tradition,” the thin one replied. “Look, when people are walking in, they want it to say, ‘Happy New Year!’ on the wall. Right?”
“Happy New Year?” The fat one giggled. “No, that’s archaic. How old do you think we are?”
“Okay, let’s hear your version.”
“The plasma screens. Let’s bring in some people from the IT department and have them put your Happy New Year on the screens with snow falling around it.”
“You could make it even more fun,” I had to say as I walked by. “Why don’t you have Ded Moroz ride by on a troika[4] with bells every once in a while, with the Snow Maiden in heels, and…oh, and a goat playing the accordion, too?”
“What’s the goat for?” they asked amiably.
“Just to shake things up. It would be funny.”
Leaving them to think about my suggestion, I walked past the reception desk, where Dasha wasn’t working, and soon found myself on Zimin’s floor.
***
Eliza wasn’t working, either, but that wasn’t surprising. According to Russian law, the work day was over.
“Well, what are you here for?” Zimin sat behind a completely clean desk, the morning’s pile of papers gone without a trace.
I plopped down in a chair. “I need permission to do something important, if not that smart.”
“You decided to marry Vika, after all?” Zimin asked with a smile. “That young body is too much for you to take my advice? Ah, it’s okay, go ahead. Time will put everything in its place.”
“No, no, it’s not that bad, and I’m not there yet,” I replied with a wave. “But you’re in the ballpark. I’d like to go visit her parents.”
Zimin turned serious. “Ooph. She lives off in the middle of nowhere, right?”
“In Kasimov. It’s not exactly Tmutarakan, but it’s definitely not close. You know, though, Vika’s digging her heels in…”
“So, what?” Zimin asked, setting his legs on the desk. “Women always argue, try to prove they’re right, do whatever they want. That’s who they are. Pound a table with your fist, explain your position—”
I scratched my head. “Easy for you to say; you aren’t the one she’s going to be nagging for a week, and she’s going to go all out.”
“That’s true.” He smiled triumphantly. “And what’s wrong with that
? It’s a great way to attack the problem.”
“You’re the best, of course.” I clapped. “But what am I supposed to do? I’m in no hurry to go, and it’s not even because I’m afraid of whoever’s out there hunting me, although, I am. I just don’t need the whole thing. Okay, let’s do this—you can forbid me to go as the powerful boss, and that will be it.”
“Aren’t you the smart one?” Zimin said with unfeigned outrage. “I’ll forbid it, and then your little girlfriend will come running in to let me have it. She will, too; I know her. Nope, that’s no good.”
“Then, what am I supposed to do? Go?”
“Just hold on.” He picked up his phone. “I have an idea… We need a scapegoat.”
Edward, who he’d called, stepped into the office three minutes later. He was dressed impeccably, clean-shaven, and looking more like a plastic Ken doll—just taller and more muscular.
“Hey, Eddie, look at this idiot,” Zimin said, turning around in his chair. “He wants to go to Kasimov. Imagine that!”
“Where is that?” Edward asked.
“Not close. Not incredibly far, but not close,” Zimin replied. “On the Oka River.”
“The Oka? Never heard of it. I do know the Volga.” With that, he broke into a beautiful singing voice. “Volga, Volga, mutter Volga. Harriton, that’s not a very good idea; You should rethink it. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of interesting things to do in Moscow.”
“Of course—everything from alcoholism to sledding. It’s just that Vika is insistent, wants to go see her parents.”
“Oh, she’s the one trying to get you to go?” Edward looked at me tenaciously before turning to Zimin.
“Who else?” I exhaled. “Things are moving toward the rings, and she wants to present her future husband to them in their natural environment, but if you’re not going to let me…”
Edward even took a step backward. “How could I not let you do something so important? It’s a great thing you’re doing, especially since it isn’t for long. Right?”
“Three days or so.” He was apparently down with it. Vika, everyone’s afraid of you!
“Just three days?” Edward waved his arms, showing me how little time that actually was. “I think you should go visit your fiancée’s parents. The change of scenery will do you good, too, getting you out and about. That’s always great when you’ve been dealing with a lot of stress.”
What, I convinced them? No, that’s not fair!
“I just have one request for you.” Edward pulled a business card out of his pocket. “I want you or Vika to write me, preferably today, though tomorrow is fine, too, and tell me exactly where you’ll be going. I want to know when you’ll be where, who you’ll be with, how long you expect the trip to take, her parents’ address, upcoming visits, everything. That’s a must.”
“What if Valyaev doesn’t let me go?” I clung to my last hope. “I’d better talk to him. There’s the clan, once every two days, I’m supposed to—”
“Don’t worry about that.” Zimin had somehow turned serious, changing his opinion about the trip completely. “I’ll make sure you don’t fail the social quest. Take care of everything else yourself.”
“One more thing,” Edward said. “I realize, this is a family trip, and you want it to be just the two of you. Still, take a car from our garage and one of our chauffeurs. The roads will be slippery, it’s a long drive…better leave it to a professional.”
“I’m all for that.” I really was. Spending hours behind the wheel isn’t my idea of a good time, and I was only too happy to avoid it. “He’ll need somewhere to stay, though, right? I don’t know if they have spare rooms at Vika’s place.”
“That’s our problem,” Edward replied. “It’ll be a business trip, so we’ll book a hotel room for him. Having a company car is always nice for trips like that, too. You can use it to go visit old school friends, relatives…”
“Stick it to them,” Zimin said maliciously. “Eddie, find them something nice and biting; Vika has a little vanity to her. Let her have a silver Hummer or something like that.”
“A little,” I grunted. “Max, you’re a diplomat.”
“Actually, I am.” He leaped up from his chair, did a couple twirls, spat out a long phrase in German that I didn’t understand it all, and finished with an ostentatious bow.
“What was that?” I asked the impassive Edward.
“He’s remembering his childhood.”
“So, I’m going?” I asked, doomed. I decided not to ask when and where Zimin had been a diplomat. Screw him.
“Of course.” Edward nodded his square, dimpled chin. “You always have to do what the bride wants. You may not have the time or the chance to do it after the wedding.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, taken aback.
“The honeymoon, work…” Edward started ticking the reasons off on his fingers. “No chance to go anywhere. Also, Vika might get pregnant; that’s pretty normal.”
Damn you, you blond devil. He was going to jinx me.
“It’s a shame I can’t leave Moscow,” Edward continued. “I would have gone with you.”
That would have been too much. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Vika; he was just too perfect. We’d get into a fight, I’d lose my temper and walk out, and he’d be left there to protect her like a knight in shining armor. Then, nobody would have any idea who fathered the baby after she decided to get back at me for blowing up at her. Younger, crazier girls love that kind of thing.
On the other hand, I could have used him to neutralize Elina. Vika probably wouldn’t have done anything with him, too, since he was a pro’s pro. Like he needs my girl.
Maybe, he did need her, though—a ready-made agent who knew everything about my rich inner world. It was a good thing he wasn’t going with us, in a word. I felt better that way. It was just a shame we had to go, at all.
“Okay, that’s decided,” Zimin said, kicking his feet up onto the desk again. “What else?”
“What else?” I scratched the back of my head. “I’d like to head out into the city on the second. I have a meeting with a young lady set up.”
“Listen, playboy,” Zimin laughed, “Valyaev’s a bad influence on you. Vika, Vezhleva, and now, some mysterious stranger. Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“Not the time for sarcasm,” I replied. “It’s Krolina, my deputy in the clan. She wants to meet in real life, and I don’t see anything wrong with that. She’s done a lot for me, for all of us. We should try to meet her halfway.”
“In that case, fine,” Zimin said with a benevolent nod.
“Mmm, I don’t think that’s a good move,” Edward broke in. “You have a phone, electronic means of communication like video conferencing… Why do you have to go somewhere?”
Kasimov is a good idea, while a Moscow café isn’t? He had an interesting system; double standards, even.
“Videoconferencing is great,” I replied, “but it isn’t the same as chatting in person. She wants to get together, and I really don’t want to get into a fight with her. She’s somebody we need, so we should let the little things go to make sure we don’t have a problem.”
Zimin raised his hand. “Agreed. Just make sure you take care of security, Eddie. Oh, you have your meeting with our holy friend the day after, right?”
“Yes, on the third,” Edward said. “Give him a call on the first; that would be best. You can wish him a happy holiday and tell him where you want to meet, so that way we’ll have two days’ notice.”
“Whatever you say,” I replied. “The first it is.”
“Let me know before you call Jeremy,” Edward more ordered than said. “Even better, make sure I’m there when you call him.”
Jeremy? I wasn’t sure why he’d renamed him.
“Sounds good,” I said. “Let’s give him a call at noon, no later. I have things in the game that—”
“I’ll stop by at ten to noon, and I’ll have several addresses you can use for
the meeting.”
“You two can figure all that out yourselves,” Zimin said with a wave of his arm. “I only care about the result. Okay, get out of here; it’s late.”
“Oh, wait, one more question,” I said when I got to the door. “Why doesn’t it feel like there’s a holiday in Fayroll? No trees, no wreaths, nothing; it’s a shame.”
“Log in tomorrow. This is the third year we’re working on seeing how we can best build the holiday spirit—nothing, nothing, and bang! Go ahead, you’ll see how we dumped everything in at once.”
***
Edward and I parted ways in the elevator. He stepped out a couple floors down, I kept going to the lobby.
I’d been tempted to ask about Yadviga, but I decided against it. Zimin would have said something if he wanted to, and his silence meant there was nothing for me to hear, yet.
I was in no hurry to reach the door of my apartment. It was ridiculous. There I was, thinking up reasons not to…you know.
Finally, I gave up and just walked in, figuring it would happen the way it would happen. It’s always like that: first, you can, but you don’t want to; then, you want to, but you can’t. I’d never been one to believe in all that higher power stuff, and my beliefs had only become odder given everything I’d seen and heard, but somebody was clearly keeping an eye on what was happening—and that someone was a cynical prankster. At least, I’d never been sure why one girl I knew got pregnant when a mosquito squeaked, always giving her babies up for adoption (the day they outlawed abortions was a bad one for her), while another, a woman who desperately wanted a baby, had lost hope in natural conception and was on her tenth unsuccessful artificial insemination. That can’t be an accident.
***
“Well?” Vika was lying on the bed in an odalisque pose, a magazine next to her. “How’s Zimin?”
“Zimin?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling. “Ah, he’s just as austere, well-dressed, and sarcastic as ever. Nothing changed since this afternoon.”
“I’m not talking about that.” She shook a finger at me, firm beauty peeking out of her negligee. “Out with it!”
“He said, I’ve been doing good work, and so I can have a trip to go see where my future wife is from. We’re getting a big, beautiful car from the garage, not to mention a driver. All we have to do is list everything we’ll be doing and everywhere we’ll be going; that’ll be for you to do. Well, how’d I do?”
The Right to Choose Page 18