Doing Lunch

by Doing Lunch Free(Lit)

  Following Orlina down the stairs, with Mitchev and Demitri leading the way, the president, Garland Smith, met Alexi with his hand extended. The two exchanged salutations and handshakes, as did Orlina with both the president and the first lady. Orlina, having been brought up on a collective with no real social interaction with the high crust of society, felt out of place. Alexi noticed her discomfort although he was somewhat prepared for it. Before they had left Moscow, Orlina had disclosed to him that she was embarrassed by her limited knowledge of the English language and America’s customs. Alexi had hoped that she had gotten over that after they visited the United Nations and she realized just how many New Yorkers had yet to conquer the language.

  Quickly, the long presidential limousine pulled up and the two leaders and their families entered. As the motorcade moved away and out from the airport, Alexi made a mental note of as many things as he could while still trying to maintain a conversation with the president. Before Alexi knew it, the president had his full attention and he did it all with just two words, foreign aid. While the president was talking about several hundred million dollars, Alexi started to realize that he really did not know much about running a country, particularly a destitute one. Was the money that the president was talking about enough to solve Russia’s problems? Where would Russia begin spending the money to make the best use of it? Being an academic had a problem, they could always ask the intelligent questions, the ones that needed to be asked, but they never seemed to have the answers. Alexi started getting a little dizzy from it all.

  “Mister President, could you please roll down the window a little? My head seems to be spinning?”

  “Sorry, Mister Debenov.”

  Having his request denied, Alexi attempted to come up with a reason and he thought he had it.

  “I’m sorry, Mister President, I forgot about security.”

  “Hell, security’s got nothing to do with it, Mister Premier. I’m worried about those damn process servers. Got hit with two subpoenas last week. Hell, I could be spending so much time in court I won’t have any free time for summits.”

  “Well, Garland, if you would just stop chasing the ladies, the process servers might stop chasing you,” added the first lady, who knew that she was not first in her husband’s heart.

  Alexi was familiar enough with the American culture to understand what was meant. He had read in the New York Times, a paper he was allowed to read because of his position in academia, that it was a good thing this president’s name was Smith so he would not have to lie when he checked into a motel. He knew that what the first lady had said probably alluded to some sexual harassment allegations.

  The trip, while short in terms of time, was very long for Orlina. She merely sat through the entire journey touching her children, making them feel comfortable. Entering the White House, Orlina was in awe of it and the attention that she received from the servants who were waiting when they entered.

  “I have your rooms prepared, sir.” Two servants quickly began lifting the bags and as they began leading the guest and his family toward their quarters, President Smith let out with a whistle, a loud and crackling whistle that he developed growing up in Texas. The servant stopped dead in his tracks and faced the leader of the free world.

  “Where you going, Arbuckle?”

  “We are going to set the premier up in the East room, Mister President.”

  “Arbuckle, no East Room, no Red Room. He’s trying to change his tune and he doesn’t need anything giving him a relapse.”

  “Yes, Mister President.” Arbuckle quickly did an about face and began leading the Debenov family in the opposite direction.

  “Where are you going to put them, Arbuckle?”

  “Well, sir, I was thinking about the Monroe Room.”

  “What’s wrong with the Lincoln Room, Arbuckle?”

  “We have the Rabineau couple in that room, sir.”

  “How much did this Rabineau contribute?”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars, sir.” Arbuckle’s spontaneous response made Alexi believe that Arbuckle the butler doubled as the president’s accountant.

  “Twenty-five thousand! What’s he doing in the Lincoln bedroom? Switch them, send the Rabineaus to the Monroe Room and let Alexi and his family have the Lincoln bedroom.”

  “As you wish, sir.” Arbuckle then led the Debenovs to their quarters where they would rest while at the White House. Arriving at their quarters and being left alone, the Debenovs were impressed with their surroundings, but they both felt like fish out of water. It was not just the quarters; it was the way they were being treated. Within moments the servants rolled in two beds for the children. There really was not anything different between good Russian parents and good American parents; they both were concerned for their children. Within moments another servant arrived with toys galore, something to keep Mitchev and Demitri busy. Before the servant who delivered the toys exited he advised the loving parents that the Consumer Products Agency for safety had approved all of the toys.

  “The dinner is at seven,” reminded Orlina. Looking at his watch, Alexi realized that he failed to change the settings on it.

  “How many hours difference between Moscow and Washington?”

  “I don’t know, Alexi.”

  “Then we better get dressed right away and sit here until they call us.”

  “But that could be hours.”

  “Orlina, the leader of Russia can’t tell the president of the United States that he doesn’t know the time difference. What kind of world leader is that?”

  “Yes, Alexi, we must not look like peasants. I will hurry and dress.”

  The dinner for the premier was quite lavish in preparation, but it was small. Because the premier had only notified the president ten days before, more elaborate arrangements could not be made. Even presidential influence to exert any pressure in that sphere could not alter previous commitments made by perspective invitees. Besides, the two world leaders and their wives, the secretary of state and her husband were there along with the Russian ambassador and his wife. The surroundings made it easy to discuss Alexi’s goals for a new Russia.

  The long table had all the trappings of a stately dinner but on a smaller scale. The silverware was genuine silver; the crystal was the worlds finest and came from Czechoslovakia. Alexi recognized it immediately since he had seen plenty of it in Russia when Czechoslovakia was under Soviet influence. The dinnerware, bearing the official seal of the United States, and which was actually made there if you believed the notation inscribed on the underside, looked costly. The tablecloth was hand embroidered and had been given to President Johnson by the Foreign Minister of India in nineteen sixty-six.

  Orlina was wearing a dress that was tailor made for her just before she left at the insistence of Foreign Minister Sergotoff. He wanted to make certain that Orlina was not out of place in appearance. As hard as he tried, Orlina ended up putting a slight crimp in his plans when she decided to wear one of her flower print scarves, one with bright orange and yellow flowing freely with a dark green background. The colors conflicted against the dark red dress and it caught the eye of everyone at the table. The Washington insiders, including the Russian ambassador, pretended to act as if there were no problem.

  “So, Premier Debenov, do you think you could take Russia to a market society?”

  “It is what I want to do.”

  “We have heard that many of your people have not been paid?”

  “That is true, Mister President. Many people have worked weeks, some for months without a paycheck.”

  “Don’t let the unions here hear about that.” Thinking it funny, the president searched the faces of his guests but failed to find any responses that saw his comment in the same light as he. Realizing that he might have offended the foreign dignitary, he quickly turned back to him with an idea on his mind.

  “Could Russia use some assistance?”

  “I had hoped that maybe America could help us.”
>
  “Well we most certainly would be willing to help. Do you have any idea how much money you might need?” The secretary of state, Magdalene Kasewski, squirmed in her chair when she heard that. She knew that you never gave anyone a blank check, and especially when you’re trying to balance your own budget.

  “No, Mister President.”

  “Well premier, when you get back to the Soviet Union you have your people sit down and figure out what your most important needs are and we’ll talk.”

  Two servants entered the dining room, each pushing a serving cart. One was filled with salads while the other had bowls of borscht on it along with a large bowl of sour cream in case anyone wanted that with the borscht. That was something neither Alexi nor Orlina really wanted to see. They both knew they had to eat it, that they had to be gracious guests and not look ungrateful for the effort that was put forth for them.

  The conversation lapsed while everyone indulged. While eating his salad, Alexi tried to sneak a glimpse every once in a while at the president. The premier had a smirk on his face when he noticed Garland almost grimacing every time he would take a swallow of the borscht. Had the president asked, Alexi would have advised the president to eat the borscht first and then the salad. The idea was to kill the taste of the borscht with the dressing. Alexi found Ranch dressing to be the most effective.

  That was another thing that Alexi had often discussed with his colleagues: protocol. He could never understand why foreign dignitaries so often attempted to live the customs of their foreign guests even if it was something they themselves really did not enjoy. Had it ever occurred to these host nations that maybe the people they were attempting to please were not particularly happy with their own customs or food? Alexi knew that when he wanted to send out for food, he meant out of the country.

  Orlina had good instincts about her. While she had never even been out of Russia except for one academic trip with her husband to London, let alone be the guest of honor in another country, she knew to eat all the borscht no matter how she hated it. She also refrained from making any faces that would give away her true feelings at the dinner table. Alexi was proud of her.

  No sooner was the table cleared than the main course was rolled out on several carts. Eyeing the carts, Alexi was delighted when he saw prime rib with creamed spinach and Yorkshire pudding. He had almost the same identical meal just two weeks ago and loved it. Knowing Orlina the way he did, he was certain that she too would feel that way.

  With the dinner out of the way, the president had some important matters to discuss with Alexi, matters that he really wanted to speak to him alone about. The secretary of state had shown her diplomatic skills in arranging for her husband to entertain Orlina and the first lady while the politicians discussed world affairs.

  The Oval office made Alexi feel stage struck. He knew all about the office of the president and some of the history behind it. He was a bit surprised though that Mikhail was wrong, because his nephew had told him that there must be mirrors on the ceiling. He never thought that he might be inside of it making history.

  “Mister Debenov, I’m quite aware of your country’s problems. While we would like to help, there is only so much we could do.”

  “I understand that, Mister President. I am just all too glad for whatever you might be able to do to assist us with. We are almost like a new nation, we need almost everything.”

  “There is something that we would like from you, Mister Premier.”

  “Just call me Alexi, Mister President.”

  “Okay, Alexi, that’s just the way I like it, nice and folksy. You call me Garland, got that?”

  “Yes, Mister President.”

  “Garland, Garland.”

  “Oh that’s right. Okay, Garland, what can I help you with?”

  “We’d like a printout of all the arms that your country has shipped to Cuba.”

  “Well, I will do what I can.”

  Garland knew exactly what he was doing with Alexi. While he had a psychological profile drawn up by the FBI, he knew better than to trust them. He could never get it out of his mind that time they drew up a list of possible spy suspects for the CIA in the case that turned out to be Alrich Ames. They made the mistake of placing a name on the list of suspects of someone who was already dead. That was something he knew they should have been able to verify. After receiving the profile from the FBI, he had a second one drawn up by a friend of his at Columbia University. Fortunately, the profiles were identical so Garland did not find himself thrown into a situation of having to pick one and hoping that it was correct.

  The report had Alexi as being intellectual, mild mannered and prone to going out of his way to avoid becoming intertwined in conflict of any kind. Garland sensed that he could draw upon this.

  “Alexi, it is very important to the security of our country to know just what is in Cuba. It could reap nice benefits for your country.”

  “I will have to check, Mister President, to see if I can help you.” Alexi was perceptive enough to realize that the President of the United States was upset with him when he referred to him as Mister President, not Garland.

  “I understand, Alexi.”

  Rising from his chair, Alexi stretched out, almost exaggerating it as if trying to make a point. “It has been a long day, Mister President, I would like to get some sleep.”

  “Of course, Alexi, of course.”

  Alexi made his way from the oval office in search of his wife. If she was still wearing the Hawaiian scarf, he was certain that he would have no trouble finding her.

  The flight to Los Angeles was an utter delight, although tiring. Orlina found all this jet hopping a contradiction. She was excited by the new experience of flying around the world but she was starting to realize how difficult it was with two small children. She was already thinking about telling Alexi that she would not go on all his trips.

  Arriving at Los Angeles International Airport in the early afternoon, Orlina was almost in shock at the weather. The day was sunny with temperatures in the high seventies. She could not believe that it was only hours ago that she was in a city where the temperature was seventeen degrees without including the wind chill factor. Under Communism, Russian news people were barred from giving the wind chill factor but with the breakup of the Soviet Union, it was becoming common knowledge in Russian life.

  Looking around, Orlina found the same thing occurring at the airport in Los Angeles as she had seen in New York and Washington, a great deal of movement with cabs and shuttle buses. It amazed her that something this large could be so organized. The repeated honk of a horn caught Alexi’s attention. It was the same sound he had heard when he was in Los Angeles the last time.

  “Alexi!” The premier looked over in the direction of the familiar sound, the sound he really came to America to hear and that he wanted to take back to Russia with him.

  “Mikhail, it is so good to see you again.” The two men hugged. Mikhail then hugged Orlina, who was not an easy person to get physically close to. Looking down at the two boys and, not having seen them in years, couldn’t remember which one was which. As a matter of fact, Mikhail remembered that the last time he went back to Moscow was not on official business but to strike a separate deal with someone in the Russian Mafia to help him get his hands on some black market Absolute. He turned a good buck on that deal until the KGB nailed his source. Oh well, Mikhail thought, Strabinsky might be enjoying himself in the islands. That’s the Gulag Archipelago, of course.

  Stooping down to make eye to eye contact with the older of the two, he quickly remembered his name.

  “Mitchev!” The child, having been advised before they left Moscow that he would be meeting his cousin Mikhail, knew who this man was.

  “Mikhail!” The child hugged Mikhail while Allison watched from the back seat of the Mercedes. Her eyes reflected a certain gratification at seeing her boyfriend bond with someone from his family besides his father.

  “Mitchev, would you like to go to
Disneyland?” The child’s confused expression served to advise the host that his cousin did not recognize the term Disneyland.

  “We’ll see Mickey and Minnie and...” Mikhail stopped when he realized that Mitchev still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

  “Hot dogs and...”

  “Ooooo hot dogs, I like hot dogs. We get hot dogs? I like hot dogs.”

  “Yes Mitchev, we’ll get hot dogs at Disneyland.”

  “Disneyland! Disneyland! Let’s go to Disneyland!” Demitri, seeing the jubilation being demonstrated by his older brother, began following with the chant for Disneyland. Alexi, watching with amusement, had absolutely no idea what he would be in for in the next few days but he would get to experience some of the angst shared by so many American parents. If European children only would catch the fever, EuroDisney might have been a success.

  Mikhail quickly loaded the luggage into the car but only after it was inspected by some of Alexi’s security people. Mikhail opened the rear door to the luxury sedan, which sat amidst a long motorcade, which included several police motorcycle escorts from the Los Angeles Police Department and when one of the agents noticed Allison, he attempted to reach in and remove her from the vehicle.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “This is the Russian premier, I must check you.” The security agent’s naiveté brought laughter to Mikhail.

  “If you’re looking to frisk her, forget it. She carries all the complaint forms with her to charge you with sexual harassment.” The security agent, befuddled by the comment since he believed that he was only doing what he must do, looked to Alexi for assistance.