Beautiful Evil Winter

by Kelly K Lavender

  “I’m very excited for you. How soon can you leave?”

  “In a couple of days.”

  “I want you to leave as soon as possible—no delays, no sightseeing.”

  He sounds stressed out. His voice is gravelly and tight.

  “Of course, Dad, as soon as possible.”

  “What’s wrong?’ I ask afraid of the answer.

  “It’s Ethan’s grandmother, Mimi. She’s not doing well. The doctors are doing all that they can to keep her comfortable and alive until you return. I don’t know if you want to tell Ethan.”

  “What’s wrong with her? Have they stabilized her? How much longer does she have?”

  “Old age and the move to the nursing home have taken a toll on her heart. After all, she lived in the same house for 50 years. She’s stable now, but she’s been on a roller coaster ride of ups and downs. The doctors aren’t sure how long she has, it could be a month or a year if she’s lucky. Meeting her grandson will make a huge improvement in her attitude.”

  My brain processes the information and adds it to our chaos:

  Mimi is Ethan’s favorite grandmother. She’s kind, generous and loving. Since she went to the nursing home, she’s been slow to adjust but healthy. No one thought she’d take a turn for the worse. He’s right about Mimi meeting Zack, he’d be a huge boost to her life force.

  I’ll tell him tonight.

  ***

  An hour passes, the phone rings again. Ethan grabs it before I can.

  “You must come with me to dinner tonight at 7:00. We pick you up,” Natasha demands.

  “We’re really tired. How about tomorrow night?” Ethan asks.

  “No, it must be tonight. You have two hours until dinner. We meet people who helped with the adoption.”

  Ethan and I look at one another with weary eyes.

  We’d just love to stay at the hotel to relax and reflect. This is not a time we want to eat dinner with people we don’t know. We’re emotionally exhausted. How can we say no? We’re not out of here yet.

  “Hey, honey, the phone call prior to Natasha’s was from my Dad,” I say as I look at the floor and then into his eyes.

  “What did he have to say? “Ethan asks casually.

  I walk over to him and hug him tightly.

  “Well, Mimi is not doing very well. Her heart is faltering. She’s been through a lot of changes lately with the move. She’s stable now. Her doctor said she could live another month or another year. I’m sorry, Ethan.”

  He’s suddenly still and quiet. I hope he can handle this extra baggage.

  “Oh, that’s bad. I knew she had issues with her heart. The big change in residence probably triggered all of that,” he says.

  Pulling away, he walks to the window staring out at the now unfolding blizzard conditions, strong tree-snapping wind and crippling cold.

  “I know my grandmother—she’ll pull through. She’s tougher than all of us, but the sooner we go home the better. The thought of holding her great grandson probably is keeping her going,” Ethan mutters. Turning, he looks at me. His eyes mist over with emotion.

  “I love her so much and have so many good memories of her. Yea, we need to get out of this ‘freezer’. Let’s put this damn dinner behind us.”

  Willpower and discipline would have to carry us through the rest of the day. At 7 pm in the company of Natasha and Viktoria, we travel into the frigid Siberian night.

  As we exit the hotel onto the street, I quickly scan the area.

  Will Ponytail make his anger known now? Or at the restaurant? My gut tells me that he’s watching and waiting—waiting for the moment to seek redemption for his humiliation at our hands.

  The taxi stops in front of a small, one story building. As we walk through the dimly lit entry, I notice people huddled in every available space. We follow the smell of tantalizing food—spicy fish, baking bread and bubbling borscht. Pausing at the doorway of a private banquet room, we face fifteen complete strangers seated at a round table awaiting our arrival.

  As soon as we sit, the doors to the room close. The wait staff hovers over the table to fill each shot glass and each water glass. As the waiter serves the last shot of vodka, a tall, dark-haired man stands up and taps his shot glass with a spoon. Looking at Viktoria, he apparently asks her to translate.

  “Nikolai says-’We are here tonight to celebrate an adoption. With our help, Mr. and Mrs. Evans adopt a beautiful baby boy, Dmitry.’”

  Cheers and the clink of shot glasses echo the importance of the occasion. A tsunami of vodka shots and toasts keep the celebration loud and raucous. The clang and clatter of silver serving trays being uncovered and forks and knives falling to the floor as the merriment escalates. Mirth served warm, occupies a spot next to the plates like a scoop of chocolaty decadence begging for another bite.

  Remembering my father’s warning about vodka, I begin to sip my shots as dinner progresses, hoping to survive with dignity. As dinner continues, introductions, conversations and toasts ricochet wildly around the room. Water glasses topple generating snickers and applause from the group.

  Clearing his throat, Nikolai stands and again ceremoniously taps his glass. This time, Viktoria looks only at Nikolai as she translates.

  “‘For years, the US and Russia are enemies. Who can forget the Cold War? My brother and I are former soldiers. From time we were small, we were taught US is our biggest enemy.’”

  From the corner of my eye, I see pickled Ethan sitting motionless as our host continues.

  “Tonight, however, we embrace you as parents of one of our children. I hope that Dmitry will return here to find a bride and marry.”

  Return to Russia for romance! No way!! Zack’s passport may be confiscated, and he’d be forced to serve in the military.

  I cough as the vodka snakes its way down my throat.

  If we return safely home, I’ll never come back here.

  ***

  Having said our good-byes, we hop into the van at 11 pm. As Ivan is about to close the back door, I see a short muscular man leaning on the outer wall of the restaurant. The outside light fixture clearly defines his silhouette. He contentedly smokes a cigarette. When he turns to look at us, his eyes lock-in. The smile on his face grows as he drags on his cigarette several times and spits on the concrete. After the van door closes, I smudge the window to see him again. I see everything I need to see. I see a ponytail and a knife attached to his boot.

  22. SHOPPING NAUSEA

  The dawn of a new day in Siberia marks a historic change in our lives. When I wake, I lie on my back staring at the ceiling, letting the truth sink in.

  We are finally Zack’s parents!

  Ethan lies sleeping on his side turned away from me. I wrap my arms around his back and squeeze. He turns around to face me with his brightest smile. Then he kisses me on the forehead.

  “I’ve never seen you this happy!”

  “It’s a big day! It’s our first full day of parenthood—you know what that means?” I don’t give him a chance to guess. “It means we get to go shopping for his first birthday party ever!” My red-hot glow would melt snow right now.

  “Parenthood – yes! Shopping – er…okay,” he says with mock glee.

  “Let’s eat lunch here and grab a taxi to go to the local mall,” I say as I strip off my pajamas and start adding layers over my essentials—bra, socks and undies.

  After Ethan preps for the cold, we go to the hotel restaurant for lunch.

  “Borscht and sturgeon Pozhaluysta,” I tell the waitress.

  I think that I’d really like to have red or black caviar, but this is easier to order. I’ve eaten this almost every day for lunch or dinner since I’ve been here. I wish I could interpret the menu.

  Ethan orders the same, and we skip the carafe of vodka.

  In the taxi, I sit next to Ethan, repeatedly craning my neck and using my small makeup mirror to look behind us and beside us.

  Ethan cups my face with both hands and looks in
to my eyes with empathy.

  “Come on, Sophia. You don’t use your make-up mirror that much. Live in the moment! Be aware, but don’t let him overshadow everything else. Let’s have fun!”

  He’s right! I’ll make the most of every moment!

  Ethan leans toward me for a kiss. In an instant, I pull him forward on top of me and giggle as we kiss like sex-starved teenagers in the back of the cab.

  The taxi slows to a stop and as we vault out, I gawk at the Pentagon-like “come hither” appeal of the beige building devoid of signs. As we climb several series of glazed steps, my eyes instinctively scan the area for beautiful products housed in carefully designed store windows, bold colors, appealing smells—any traces of retail seduction. Unfortunately, the retail orgy my eyes and pocketbook yearn for fails to appear as we walk into the only department store in the mall.

  I sniff the air, stop in my tracks to make a 360 and look around.

  This place reminds me of going-out-of-business inner city dollar store, a dollar store which happens to sell food, liquor, clothes, toys and holiday decorations. The beige mannequins on display so poorly represent clothing and products that I want to slap them for offending my sensibilities.

  “From the look of the mannequins, you’d think hurricane winds blasted this space.”

  We both stare at the twisted-the-wrong-way wrists and arms of the mannequin used to model clothing. The mannequin is wearing a wool v necked navy top and pant and one navy pump. And she appears to be pointing at a trail of bras, underwear and socks that lay scattered on the floor. The other blue pump completes the scattered ensemble. Fallen pants and jackets drape over long silver hanging rods.

  I close my eyes tightly and look away. It’s as if someone struck me across the face.

  This inhibits my shopping lust.

  “Well, I didn’t plan to shop for underwear and bras, but the heap on the floor is so appealing. Maybe, I should just pick up underwear and a bra off the floor and try them on.” I snicker.

  “Why yes you should. And the way her shirt is hanging off the shoulder, we may get a flash of her bulging breasts.” Ethan grins.

  Hopefully, the toy department will be better managed. Or so I hope.

  As we walk to the toy department, I gasp.

  “The toys are untouchable. You can’t just grab them from the shelf and examine them.”

  “They’re all lined up in a glass showcase,” Ethan says in surprise.

  “It looks like you have to line up at the counter and look.”

  “It looks like there is a crush of people at the counter to look,” I observe trying to figure out the system. Scratching my head, I stand bewildered.

  There is another line at the register, but no one is holding a toy.

  “It looks like you have to stand in line to ask the register clerk to hold the toy. Watch. Then, she retrieves it from the glass case and stares while you examine it, “Ethan observes. Good grief, she hovers over that plastic toy as if it’s an expensive ring at a jewelry store

  “Then, you pay the clerk and go. Everyone waits in one line to hold, pay and go,” he continues.

  “It’s amazing that people buy anything at all. You don’t get to shop, enjoy the process and the choices. The urge to be the playful curious consumer prohibited. And who wants to wait in that slow-moving line?” I complain.

  “We’ll just make our decisions while waiting in this long line so we can get out of here.”

  “Okay, that’s probably the best thing to do. I certainly won’t doubt our choices or ask to look at different ones to make the best choice,” I quip with gritted teeth.

  This is so strange. We always find the best deal for the best price.

  With smiles on our faces, we point out our choices, pay and leave the shopping fantasy gone amuck behind us. We purchase gifts for all of the children in the child house and a few clothing items for Zack. The “subway clean” staircase, there are no escalators, leads us down to the main floor for a final chance to purchase liquor and food.

  ***

  Sitting in the cab, we enjoy our bounty—baby clothes and gifts, champagne, chocolates, cologne, small jewelry boxes and specialty soaps for the staff (as instructed).

  What a wonderful experience! To be at this place, at this time, to buy gifts for all of the children and to celebrate our son’s 1st birthday party with him before we leave.

  “I’m just obese with joy today!” I exclaim as we exit the cab.

  “My thoughts exactly,” he says with a smile before grabbing my hand. “And the babbling brook united the cloud-covered city.”

  “You can mock me all you want! I’m so happy!” I answer, sticking out my tongue at him. He laughs and pulls me closer to him.

  Nothing can ruin this for us.

  Nothing.

  23. TAXI TURMOIL

  My eyes open suddenly and I stare at the ceiling in the dark room. It’s 6:45 am according to the green glow of the clock on our bedside table. Ethan’s snoring must have awakened me.

  “Birthday Party! Birthday Party! It’s time to wake-up!” I whisper, nudging Ethan frantically with my hand.

  “Wake-up! Wake-up!” I nudge again with more urgency. “We need to get out of here!” “What’s wrong? Is there a fire?” Ethan turns toward me, rubbing his eyes.

  “No, silly. Today’s Zack’s birthday! Let’s get started!”

  “And …It’s 6:50 am. They aren’t ready for us yet,” he announces with a yawn.

  “Can you really go back to sleep? Let’s grab a quick breakfast and walk around or sightsee via taxi.” I grab his hand as if to pull him out of bed.

  “Okay. I’ll call Natasha after breakfast and tell her we want to arrive early,” he says, a feebly controlled smile playing on his lips.

  Two taxis appear outside our hotel early this cold, sunny morning. For comfort, four people, Natasha, Viktoria, Ethan and I and our gift baggage and video camera, travel in two separate taxis.

  “I wonder if we’ll see the other children or just leave the gifts for them. I can’t wait to see Zack’s face as he examines his gifts.” I smile, looking dreamily at Ethan. Leaning over, he kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Whatever his reaction, we’ve got so much to be happy about,” he says as he moves over to sit next to me. Grabbing my hand, he kisses it with courtly fervor.

  “You’re right. I’m so thrilled to be right here right now.” Stretching up, I plant a kiss on his lips, giggling with joy.

  As he puts his arm around me, I nuzzle into his chest as I stare blankly out the windows, peacefully lost in my thoughts.

  For several miles, the taxis motors the waxy streets in caravan fashion as planned and discussed. Then, suddenly, our cab swerves left into an alley while the lead car maintains its course, heading straight down the road. The tires lose traction, and the back end slides.

  I pull away from Ethan to look out of both windows.

  Ethan taps the driver on the back, shakes his head (as in “no”) and motions toward the lead car. The driver waives him away, instead checking his rear view mirror.

  Good grief! What’s this guy doing? The lead car is going a different way. How can he even drive that fast on these icy roads without flipping the car? You can’t see black ice on the road.

  Ethan and I stare at one another, wide-eyed.

  He’s got the same sinking feeling that I do.

  Looking at my watch, I see twenty minutes pass as he screeches to a stop in the parking lot of an old decaying apartment complex. Without a word, he grabs the keys, jumps out and sprints to one of the units.

  My thoughts race and spin.

  “What’s he doing? Why are we here? Do you think we’ll be kidnapped or robbed? This is a third world country where money can buy anything. The Mafioso control everything here. Maybe, Ponytail is involved.”

  “I think we’re in big trouble if he has some evil in mind for sure. He has the advantage.”

  “We can’t just run since we can’t speak the la
nguage, we don’t know our hotel address or the address where we’re going. We have no friends or family here. They don’t even know where we are! We don’t have Natasha’s or Viktoria’s phone number with us either!” My eyes dart nervously around the parking lot. Ethan stares blankly ahead, immersed in thought.

  “Or maybe, the other cab will turn around and try to find us. They could be on their way now,” I comment with counterfeit hope.

  “I think we should look for an opportunity to run together—same time, same direction.”

  I look around for barriers of protection in the immediate area.

  We should be at the child house with Zack celebrating his birthday now.

  I bite my lip, tears beginning to blur my vision.

  Gripping my door handle, I prepare to run. The driver returns quickly, jumps into the cab, without even a glance to the backseat, and speeds from the parking lot to unfamiliar streets.

  No visible gun and no additional driver—definitely, a good thing.

  Finally, we arrive at the child house parking lot.

  Natasha and Viktoria stand outside waiting for us with arms crossed and frowns etched on their faces.

  “What happened to you?” Viktoria glares at the driver as she speaks to us, her eyes flashing with anger.

  Adrenalin, excitement, relief, and a Mimosa of a jolt, make me shaky as we stand on the sidewalk. I hold his hand to balance as he begins.

  “The driver just changed course. It scared us a lot. He didn’t or couldn’t talk to us. We didn’t know what was going on and we still don’t,” Ethan replies, his voice quivering.

  Turning to the driver with a fiery expression, she lets loose a raging river of Russian fury. Natasha joins in, standing next to Viktoria, and yells, wagging her finger then jabbing it into his chest.

  The cab driver appears shocked, dumbfounded at their reaction. And with that, Natasha slaps his hand with a wad of money, and shoos him away with a scowl.

  Viktoria turns to us, her eyes wincing with wrath. She looks angry enough to ram her fist through a wall.