by Woods, Karen
“I usually do. Speaking of doing as I wish, when we get back to the States, I’m joining the medical staff at your mother’s clinic. I placed an email late last night to the hospital administrator tendering my resignation, effective at the end of my vacation, and I contacted the condominium association and listed my condo for sale,” Irina said. “And I filed on-line to start drawing my social security check as well as to take out Part B of Medicare.”
Kiril smiled, broadly. “That sounds like an excellent idea, Babushka. I don’t know why you didn’t move up to the clinic years ago.”
“Your mother didn’t ask me until last night,” Irina replied, then corrected herself. “No, that’s not true. She did ask me to come with her when she started the clinic, almost twelve years ago. But I thought that one of us had better keep a paid job, just in case her idea for the clinic didn’t take off. Well, the clinic’s been every bit of the success she thought it would be. I should have been there from the beginning, with her.”
“It’s okay, Mama. You’ll be there now,” Rita replied, patting her mother’s hand.
“Where will you live, Babushka?” Alexei asked.
“I haven’t decided whether to take a staff apartment or move in with my daughter,” Irina replied.
Masha said, “I think it would be a good thing for you to move into Rita’s second bedroom.”
“Because I’ll be ninety years old in a month and you are all concerned that I’m in my dotage?” Irina asked, chuckling. “I can still outwork any of you. And my mind is still as sharp as ever.”
Masha replied, “No, Babushka, that’s not what I meant. I just think you could be company for one another. You both have been lonely. If you’re together, you will be less so.”
“There is that,” Irina replied with a smile.
Waitstaff brought around coffee and hot water and an assortment of tea bags for herb tea, along with juices and milk.
“So, what song are you planning to use in your audition, Babushka?” Alexei asked.
“Gori, gori, moya zvevda. My Sasha used to sing it to me.”
Masha said with a smile and a nod, “Kiryusha sings that to me, and has since we were dating.”
“That’s a song for baritones or tenors,” Alexei said.
“It’s been transposed up into a soprano range before,” Anya replied. “I’m sure that your mother and grandmother will do a wonderful job with the song. I’ve never known either of them to do anything and not do it well.”
“Are you singing, Mama?” Alexei asked.
“No, I’ll be playing my piccolo,” Rita replied.
A waiter brought out their food.
Rita added her container of plain nonfat greek yogurt to her steel cut oats, and dumped her serving of blueberries into the bowl as well, before she stirred them together.
“Is that all you are eating for breakfast, Rita?” Masha asked her.
“Lean protein and complex carbs, what more do I need?” Rita dismissed.
“Will that hold you until lunch?” Masha asked after taking a bite of her sausage patty and waffle.
“We learned a long time ago,” Alexei offered, “not to question Mama about her food choices. She has definite opinions about food.”
Rita laughed, “Actually, it may not hold that long. I’m not doing anything strenuous this morning, so it should be fine. There isn’t too much fructose in this, so it shouldn’t burn through that quickly. At home, I’d have something like this, or two eggs scrambled with mushrooms, onions, and peppers.”
Kiril smiled. “So, Babushka and Mama are going to audition for the talent show this morning. And after lunch all the ladies are going to the spa. What is everyone else up to today?”
Alexei said, “I thought I’d go to the Captain’s program, the virtual tour of the ship in the main auditorium, and then take the kitchen tour this morning.”
“That sounds interesting,” Kiril said. “I think I’ll join you.”
“Then, after lunch, I was going to go to the workout room and run five miles on the treadmill,” Alexei said.
Kiril sighed. “Yeah. I ought to join you. If I don’t exercise, with the kind of food they’re serving here, I’ll gain ten pounds by the end of the cruise.”
Irina offered, “Why don’t you go out and run in the sun and the fresh air? There is a walking/running track laid out around the deck. And after your run/walk, you could let loose your inner children and spend some time on the climbing wall, on the surf simulator, or check out a basketball and shoot some hoops or play some miniature golf.”
“That sounds much better than the treadmill,” Kiril admitted.
“Yes, it does,” Alexei agreed.
“Just remember the mosquito repellent,” Irina reminded.
Kiril nodded, “We can skip the high tea served mid-afternoon today, I think.”
Irina agreed, “None of us need the extra grams of carbs in the cakes, pastries, and sandwiches. Not with the generous portions of meals served here. Although a cup of tea could be most welcome.”
“The first meal Dryusha and I had together was a tea, with sandwiches, blini with caviar, scones, fruit, and cake,” Rita told her sons. “There is room for this sort of thing, now and again, on special occasions.”
“But not every sea day,” Kiril said.
“No, not every day. But we celebrate with food, as a culture. For many of us, food is the way we medicate our emotional highs and lows. As a culture, we live to eat, not eat to live,” Rita replied.
Irina chuckled. “I can identify with that. I definitely live to eat.”
With a chuckle, Alexei replied, “And Babushka, you look like it. What do you weigh now, all of one hundred pounds, soaking wet?”
“More than that,” Irina replied, cutting into her prosciutto wrapped honeydew melon slice. “When I went for my annual physical, last month, I weighed in at one hundred eleven pounds.”
“Which is at the low end of the normal weight range for your height,” Rita replied. “But you’ve been the same weight, plus or minus five pounds, as long as I can remember.”
“Stability is a good thing,” Irina replied on a laugh.
“It is, indeed.”
They sat and talked for quite a while after they’d finished eating.
Irina looked at her watch. “Time to go if we’re going to audition.”
“Do you want us there, for moral support?” Kiril asked.
“No, you go on to that virtual tour of the ship and the tour of the kitchens. We’ll meet you here for lunch,” Rita said. “Or if we finish with the auditions earlier than I think we might, we will join you for the programs this morning.”
They weren’t the first potential contestants in the auditorium. The cruise director and several staff members were present, as well.
“Come in, ladies,” the young cruise director said, his voice harried. “Have you come to audition?”
“Yes, we have,” Irina said.
“Sign in. And we’ll call you in order you signed in. We’ll begin the auditions in a few minutes.”
“We have an appointment in the spa at one,” Rita said.
The cruise director smiled. “We’ll have you out of here long before then. Sign in, please.”
They sat and listened to the first five contestants. In each case, the cruise director asked them a bit about themselves before their performance. The first contestant, a soprano soloist singing a popular country ballad and accompanying herself on the guitar, had clearly had some training to go with the abundant natural talent. “Thank you. We’ll let you know,” the cruise director said on behalf of the panel of judges. The next contestant was a ventriloquist who had brought two mannequins with him. He was funny and very professional, almost too professional for an amateur contest. Again, “Thank you. We’ll let you know” was the response of the judges. And so, it went through a juggler, a baritone singing a medley of show tunes, and a crew of modern dancers who were each quite good. All of them seemed to be far too
professional for an amateur show, almost as if they were trying to get the attention of the cruise line in order to come join the professional entertainment staff on the cruise ships.
There were a dozen or so groups waiting to audition when Rita and Irina were called to the stage.
“Introduce yourselves ladies.”
“I’m Rita Zornova and this is Irina Melnikova.”
“Tell us something about yourselves. Are you sisters?”
Irina laughed, the sound rich and full. “I’m not sure if he’s insulting you, Daughter, flattering me, or a bit of both.”
Rita chuckled. “My mother turns ninety years old in a few weeks. We’re on the ship with two of my sons and their wives.”
“What did you do before you retired, Irina?” the cruise director asked.
Irina laughed. “There will be time enough to retire when I’m dead. Until then, I’ll continue to practice medicine.”
“You’re a doctor?” the cruise director asked, in clear disbelief.
“We both are practicing physicians,” Rita said.
The cruise director chuckled. “What are you doing to do for us today, Doctors?”
“A Russian romantic ballad that my husband, memory eternal, used to sing to me, Gori gori moya zvevda,” Irina said just before Rita put the piccolo to her lips and began to play. Irina’s voice was strong and beautiful. A few minutes later, the last plaintive notes fell off into silence in the auditorium. The silence didn’t last long. Everyone in the auditorium rose to their feet, clapping. Rita and Irina both curtsied deeply in appreciation of the salute.
The cruise director said, “Ladies, you’re definitely in the show. Any woman who gets to be ninety years old and can deliver a song with that degree of power, beauty, and emotion deserves to be heard by as wide an audience as possible. I’ll send the details on the two planned rehearsals to your cabin.”
“Thank you,” Irina said just before they left the stage.
They stopped at their seats for Rita to disassemble her piccolo and swab it out before casing it. The next act had already been called to the stage.
“What did you think of that?” Irina asked after they left the theater.
“Honestly, I don’t know. We’re in the show. We’ll just have to wait and see what else happens. I don’t want to carry this around all day, so I’ll drop it at in our cabin,” Rita said, lifting her instrument. “I think we can catch the tour of the kitchens, if you want to join the boys.”
“I’d like that.”
They walked into the main auditorium just as the captain called for questions at the end of the virtual tour of the ship program. Rita and Irina slid into seats in the back of the auditorium. A few minutes later, they joined their family as they left the main auditorium.
“Done, already?” Kiril asked.
“Yes, we’ll be in the show,” Irina said on a chuckle. “They said any old woman who could deliver a song with the power and emotion I do deserves an audience.”
Anya laughed. “They’re right, Babushka.”
The kitchen tour was about what Rita expected. The kitchen was clean and orderly, clearly organized for maximum efficiency of feeding both crew and passengers. Staff seemed to know what they were doing and to be following strict hygienic standards. She’d expected this. But it was nice to see a professional kitchen run so well.
After leaving the kitchens, Kiril asked, “The smells in there made my mouth water. Everyone ready for lunch?”
“Sure,” Anya said. “Shall we try the all-you-can-gorge-yourself-on buffet, or go into the dining room to be waited upon?”
Rita nodded, “We’re all adults. We can manage what we put in our mouths. It might be nice if we ate out on the deck and enjoyed the ocean breezes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Rita sat out on the deck at the stern of the ship, late that night, looking out into the darkness. A cup of chamomile tea sat on the table, cooling, next to her piccolo. Somehow, after dinner and the shows, she was simply not tired. Too much was on her mind for her to want to lie in bed, sleepless. Besides, her mother was working on an article for a medical journal and Rita didn’t want to disturb her.
Funny thing, going to the reunion should have laid the past to rest, and yet, the floodgates seemed to have been flung open to other memories that she had thought she had laid to rest long ago.
It had been her final year of her residency, a week before Western Easter. She and Janet had been at home in their apartment, listening to music. Janet had been reading medical journals. Rita had been reviewing her mathematics dissertation in preparation for defending it the following week. When the doorbell rang, Jack stood there, on her doorstep.
“Jack?” she asked in disbelief, seeing him there.
“Rita, can I come in?”
“Sure. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
Rita introduced Jack to Janet.
“Shall I leave you two alone?” Janet asked.
“I’m not going to chase you out of your apartment,” Jack said. “I just was in town for the funeral of my great aunt Louise. I thought I’d drop in and see Rita before I headed back to the airport to catch my flight later today.”
“It’s good for her to have friends. She keeps her nose so much to the grindstone, I’m surprised that she has a nose left,” Janet said with a chuckle. “And it’s good to know that she had good looking male friends.”
“When does a senior resident have any time to do much besides work?” Rita asked. “And you know I have friends.”
“Not so much,” Janet replied. “So, Jack what do you do?”
“I’m a fourth year med student at Harvard.”
Janet nodded. “Where will you be doing your residency?”
“Rush, in Chicago. I got word a month ago.”
“You’ll be able to go home, fairly easily, to see your parents,” Rita offered. “You can catch a train or bus from Chicago to Saint Louis, and someone can pick you up there.”
“Yes. I will be able to do that. Rita, would you take a walk with me?” Jack asked. “There’s a nice looking park down the street.”
“Sure. I need a break anyway.”
They walked for a while, not saying anything until they came to a park bench. He sat down. She joined him.
“You have to know how I feel about you, Margarita,” Jack said.
“Jack,” she said. “You know I won’t go back to that town. Never. I can’t. There are too many bad memories there.”
“No one asked you to.”
“You have an obligation to the town to practice there. They paid for your college and med school education. You signed an agreement to practice there.”
“Does that mean I have to live there?”
“Actually, I rather think it does. You can’t be an hour away and be on call for emergencies, the way old Doc Jones always is. That’s what the town is expecting; you to be a young doctor to take over his practice. That’s what they contracted for. You can’t do the job they’re expecting you to do if you’re not in that town.”
“I could break my contract.”
“No, you couldn’t live with yourself if you did that. And I would lose all respect for you.”
“And that’s your final word?”
“Do you really expect me to go back there and live with those people? People who never were brave enough to stand up to a trio of bullies?”
“No, I had hoped that you would think about living with me,” Jack said.
“That isn’t the largest of the problems, Jack. I love you. Like a brother. Not like a husband should be loved. You are my best male friend.”
“You could learn to love me,” Jack said. “Until then, I have enough love for both of us.”
“It doesn’t work that way, John Jacob. You deserve better. You deserve a woman who is crazy in love with you, who can’t dream of not being with you every moment of the day. I’m not. And I can’t envision being that woman. It’s not fa
ir to you.”
“Why don’t you let me worry about what is fair to me?” he said as he took her hand.
“No. I won’t marry you. The town, the fact that I am not in love with you are both things that are important. But neither of them are the largest issue here.”
“What is a largest issue?”
“You’re not Orthodox, Jack. I would never marry a man who didn’t share my faith. Marriage is a mystery, a sacrament in western parlance. The partners should be able to help one another work out their salvation, should raise their children in the love and fear of God, and they should be equally yoked without disparity in faith.”
“I’m Episcopalian. That’s the Orthodoxy of the West.”
She sighed and cleared her throat. “No, Jack. Everything else aside, I’m simply not ready to marry. I have too much of my training to do. I’m going to New York City to do my Fellowship in Cardiology as soon as I complete my residency. I defend my Ph.D. dissertation in Statistics next week. I still have a lot of things to do before I settle down. You’re heading to Chicago for your residency, then you are going to practice in that loathsome town. Your life is not what I want for myself.”
“Rita, I love you. And I’m not giving up. I’ll convince you, yet.”
She shook her head and stood. “No, Jack. It’s not possible. You’re my friend. My best friend besides Janet. But I can’t marry you, ever. Please take no for an answer. Please don’t wait for me to change my mind, because that isn’t going to happen.”
“I can’t see you not being my wife and sharing our lives,” he countered, standing. “But we won’t talk about this more now. Let’s walk. Did you hear that my cousin Kevin and his wife, Kathy, are expecting twins?”
“Double trouble,” she replied with a small chuckle. “Babies are special.”
“We would have lovely babies, Margarita Aleksandrova,” he offered.
She sighed and turned away from him and began walking.
He fell in beside her. “I am not giving up on us.”
“There is no us, not in that way. Nor can there be. Our lives are going in different paths.”