Moonlight in Odessa

by Janet Skeslien Charles

  We never go out. Of course this disappointed me at first – you know how much I love the philharmonic. Remember the 8th of March concert last year when our Hobart triumphed with his orchestra? Had we ever heard Tchaikovsky played so well?

  But Tristan is right. We need to save money. It doesn’t grow in the garden. He said it would cost ten thousand dollars to have a baby. Can you imagine? How can something so small cost so much?

  Yesterday, we bought a crib and the softest sheets. To think, I slept in a drawer for the first months of my life. We didn’t buy a baby blanket. I was hoping that you would crochet one for the baby and bring it when you come. We both want you to visit with all our hearts. I want you to come help me with the baby. I want you to come period.

  Love,

  Dasha

  In Emerson, decorations for Christmas had gone up right after Thanksgiving. The strings of lights kept the darkness at bay. I loved looking at the reindeer and sleigh or inflatable snowmen on people’s lawns. Tristan put up a tree. The whole house smelled of pine. This time I wasn’t stupid enough to show how entranced I was. I didn’t want people to mock me. Anyone looking at me would think that I had seen beautiful displays like this year-round. In fact, this was my first Christmas. In Odessa, under the Soviet Union and even afterwards, we celebrated the New Year, when Grandfather Frost delivered candy and oranges.

  Christmas morning, we opened our presents. I gave him three button-down shirts and a blue silk tie; he got me another pair of jeans, T-shirts, and hiking boots. Though the gifts weren’t my style, I was grateful. One feature of this perverse social experiment called the Soviet Union: It kept us thankful for every mouthful of food, every garment, every drop of water, every light bulb that brightened our dark days. Every time the furnace came on in Tristan’s home, I said a little word of thanks. We’d lived too many winters with no heat. When provisions, clothes, and opportunities are scarce, you learn to appreciate every little scrap. I kept trying to remind myself: even if he’s not my soul mate, even if he doesn’t understand me, life here is better than at home.

  I hoped that next year we’d have a baby to share Christmas with. Holidays were for children. All days were for children. For family. I decided to call Boba. Each time I dialed her number, I prayed that the line would be clear so that we could talk. In America people pick up the receiver and say, ‘Hello.’ In Odessa, as you know, we say, ‘I’m listening.’ But each and every time I called Boba, she answered, ‘Dasha?’

  ‘It’s me, Boba.’

  ‘How’s my little Americanka?’

  ‘Oh, Boba.’

  ‘What is it, my little rabbit paw?’

  ‘Nothing . . . I’m just happy to hear your voice.’

  ‘I miss you.’

  ‘And I you, sunshine.’

  I was afraid that if I said another word, I would start to cry, so I bit my lip and batted my eyelashes, trying to control my tears.

  ‘How do you double the value of a Lada?’ Boba asked. She knew her jokes always cheered me.

  ‘I don’t know?’

  ‘Fill its gas tank.’

  I laughed.

  ‘Boris Mikhailovich told me that one. He keeps me in stitches.’

  ‘Boris Mikhailovich?’ At least she wasn’t calling him simply Boris. That meant there was still a certain formality in their relationship.

  ‘He checks on me from time to time. Last night he brought over some fish that he caught and cooked it himself. You know how I hate to clean fish.’

  I heard the rumble of a man’s voice in the background.

  ‘Is he still there?’ I asked.

  Kino. Boba had a boyfriend.

  At Wal-Mart, while Tristan looked at tires, I bought a white baby dress and knit booties. I topped my purchases with feminine hygiene products so he wouldn’t pry. When we got home, I felt ridiculous and shoved the plastic sack under the bed. But when he was at work, I pulled the dress out and stroked it. The cotton was so soft.

  How could I not be pregnant when I wanted it so much? At least Tristan didn’t seem angry about it. He just grinned and said, ‘Well, guess we’ll have to keep trying.’ I begged him to take me to visit Oksana and Jerry, so that she could examine me. But he said, ‘Sweetie, don’t nag me. When I get home from work, I just want to wash up and kick back in my BarcaLounger.’

  Three things in this world he loved: computer games, his recliner and the national parks of America. He didn’t like fussy clothes, potatoes all the time or ungrateful women.

  . . . And I was his wife.

  Jane was flying to San Francisco after New Year’s and invited me to join her. He’ll never want to go, I told her. She said, Who cares what he wants? Take the bus. If you need money, I’ll send you some.

  ‘I’m not going,’ Tristan said.

  ‘Fine, I’ll go alone.’ I could use some of the money David had given me to buy a bus ticket. I was thrilled at the idea of going on my own.

  Tristan smirked. ‘How will you get there? You don’t have enough experience to drive in the city and you don’t have any money.’

  ‘I’ll hitchhike,’ I said, feeling like myself again – impudent and just a little perverse. It felt good.

  He pouted for a solid week, slamming the cupboard doors, sighing, and shooting me malevolent looks across the dinner table. Fight-fought-fought. I held my breath and tiptoed around the house, trying to hide my joy at traveling on my own. Sadly, at the last moment, he decided to go and grabbed the keys from my hand. I couldn’t wait to see Jane, but hated the tension between Tristan and me in ‘my’ car.

  ‘I guess your friends are more important than me,’ he moaned. ‘I guess what I want doesn’t count.’

  Prick, idiot, shit head, Tristan, I repeated to myself, really focusing on getting the ‘i’ sound just right.

  When we pulled up in front of the Victorian, Tans and Jane came out to greet us. She wore an expensive cream-colored pantsuit, he his usual blue blazer. I noticed an emerald ring on her finger. Was it a gift from Tans? He put his arm around Jane, she pressed herself to his side. Somehow, when he stood next to her, he looked younger. I imagined he knew that. He greeted us – a kiss for me, a handshake for Tristan – and said apologetically that he had too many guests at the house so he’d reserved us a room at a nearby hotel. Tristan’s lips tightened – he didn’t want to pay for accommodation. I whispered that it would be like a honeymoon. He grumbled that our honeymoon hadn’t cost $100 a night.

  In a sulk, Tristan took our luggage to the hotel. I was grateful for this moment of respite, grateful to be back in San Francisco – the noise of the passing cars, the throngs of people on the sidewalk, the possibilities, the marvelous possibilities of the city. Tans’s house was filled with people eating in the kitchen, talking in the hallway, and dancing in the living room. As time went on, more and more arrived. Doctors, lawyers, heiresses, writers, gays, mothers against drunk drivers, swindlers, actors, refugees – there was one of everyone at Tans’s parties. Jane and I stood near the entryway and watched guests in evening clothes stream by. She gestured to the group down the hall. ‘Jono brought cocaine – that’s why they’re loitering in front of the office. He sets up shop there. He’s also a bookie for the daftest bets. They’re interesting,’ she nodded to Mia, the stockbroker; Marco, the upstairs neighbor who owned a Jaguar dealership; and Destiny, a top model. ‘But they have too much time and money on their hands. Last month, they bet on which of them would get pulled over by the police first, then they drove like maniacs to win the wager. I wouldn’t be surprised if they bet on when Tans and I will break up.’

  ‘Does that bother you?’ I asked.

  ‘The bet? No. I know it has to end, even if I don’t want it to. Coming here on the weekend is fabulous, so different from life in Montana. Tans is great. There’s no future, he and I both know that. God knows the betting pool knows it. But for now what we have works.’

  She grabbed us each a flute of champagne from a waiter circulating through the strands of
guests. Jane and I touched the rims together, recited a silly Odessan toast, ‘To the best people in the world, to us!’ and laughed.

  She had opened up, somehow that made it easier for me. I tried to apologize for not talking to her for all this time.

  ‘Ne nada,’ she said. There’s no need. ‘I understand. I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth about your getting married. You have to do what you have to do . . .’

  I downed my champagne and wrapped my arm around hers and put my head on her shoulder. She stroked my hair and murmured in Russian, ‘You’re a smart girl, you’ll manage, everything will be fine. I have confidence in you.’

  Her words made me feel strong, fortified, happy. Happy to be with a dear friend, happy to be in the city. Happy to listen to musicians and to receive energy from the notes. We accepted another glass and then another. My mind spun so quickly my thoughts were jumbled. She saw me stumble and pulled me towards the plush sofa in the living room. In front of us, Zora played the violin (which Jane called a fiddle), Gambino the guitar. It was like an evening at home when we gathered at our friend Sasha’s because he had a piano, and we sang and laughed and danced. Zora began to sing a folk song. It was so magical that I could almost forget that Tristan had returned and was sulking beside me.

  ‘I don’t trust Jono,’ Jane whispered as more people made their way down the hall to the office. She gestured to his red silk shirt. ‘Look at him, dressed like a Las Vegas lounge singer. Who does he think he is? Sammy Davis, Jr.?’

  I had no idea who that was.

  ‘I don’t know why he has to bring that stuff here,’ she continued.

  Tans approached us. ‘Tristan, a beer?’

  ‘Huh? I can’t hear with all this racket.’

  ‘A beer?’ he repeated. ‘Let me show you where we keep them.’

  Tans raised his eyebrow as if to say, See? I’m not so bad. I’m taking Tristan for a walk so you girls can chat.

  When they’d gone, I turned to Jane. ‘Tell me about the ring. It’s so beautiful.’ And it was. Curved gold flowers held the emerald in place. What a pity that goldsmiths had gone the way of blacksmiths. I looked at my wedding ring. Today’s jewelers plop a diamond on a circle of gold. No talent is needed for that.

  ‘Tans gave it to me for Christmas. Said it was his mother’s.’

  ‘You don’t sound convinced.’

  ‘He’s fifty-five years old and never been married. He could have given his mother’s ring to anyone by now. The thing is,’ she nodded to the young man who was smiling widely, whose eyes were too bright, ‘Jono sells estate jewelry. That means when someone dies, he buys the jewels cheaply and resells them.’

  ‘But Tans said –’

  ‘I know what he said. I also know what his best friend does for a living.’

  ‘He loves you.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I trust him,’ she said. ‘Everyone here is a liar. It’s the only thing they have in common.’

  ‘Are you going to keep the ring?’ I handed it back to her.

  ‘Of course.’

  I nodded approvingly. In some ways, Jane had become a real Odessan. I put my hand to my chest. I wondered if I could bear to part with my ring. I wondered how much Jonothan could get for it. And what I could do with the money.

  As if to make up for being stingy about the hotel, Tristan asked if Jane and I would like to see Phantom of the Opera. I was thrilled to be going to the theater and proud of Tristan’s thoughtfulness. Jane hadn’t seen him in the best light. No one in Tans’s crowd thought much of him. But he was showing that he could be considerate. It was important to me that he and Jane get along, and that she see she’d been wrong. An usher escorted us to our seats – in the very last row. I muttered that we could hardly see. Tristan countered that tickets were seventy dollars each, right in front of Jane. Die-died-died. That’s what I wanted to do. Earth, swallow me now. I could take dozens of small humiliations and attacks on my dignity. But to have Jane bear witness was more than I could take. She squeezed my hand and whispered, Everything will be fine.

  ‘Thank you for inviting me. It was so kind of you,’ Jane said to him.

  ‘When I asked you to go, I didn’t think the tickets would be so much.’

  I gasped. I couldn’t believe it. No man in Odessa would ever be so uncultured. What kind of person invites another then hints at being reimbursed? Jane pulled some bills out of her purse. He looked at them, then at me. I glared so ferociously that he didn’t dare accept the money. Jane tried to mollify me, but I was mortified. I could swallow my pride in Emerson, where no one could see, but in front of Jane, it stuck in my throat.

  I couldn’t stand to look at him and turned my head. Jane squeezed my hand again and repeated Everything will be fine. I heard a tinge of pity in her voice and it made me want to weep. I looked away so she wouldn’t see my tears. I needed to get out of there, but Tristan was blocking my way.

  ‘Execute me,’ I whispered, wishing someone would lop off my head.

  ‘What?’ Tristan asked.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said.

  ‘It’s about to start,’ he said.

  ‘The curtain will rise whether I’m here or not.’

  I wandered the halls until they emptied. Until I was blinded by my tears. I knew I should be grateful. At least I was at the theater, right? I was lucky. Tears glided down my cheeks and I blew my nose hard, half hoping the gray ropes of my brain would come out as well. As I walked and muttered to myself, I crossed the path of an older gentleman, who asked what was wrong. ‘I went from a box seat – the best seat in the house – to the very last row.’

  He handed me a handkerchief. ‘Well, that’s a problem I can solve. Join my wife and me.’

  We entered the black box. I focused on the stage and forgot everything. When the lights came on for intermission, the man asked what I did for a living. This is always the first question they ask in America. I was ashamed to admit that I was unemployed, so I said, ‘I used to work at ARGONAUT, a shipping company.’

  ‘Here in San Francisco?’

  ‘I didn’t realize there was a branch here . . .’

  ‘Our son works there,’ the woman said.

  ‘What’s your degree in?’ the man asked.

  ‘Mechanical engineering.’

  ‘Smart girl.’ He took out a business card. ‘I’m writing my son’s number on the back. Call him.’

  And just like that I had a lead. I tucked the card into my purse as the curtain rose to a new era of my life. Maybe Tristan could find a job in San Francisco as well. Or maybe I could rent a room for the week and return to Emerson on the weekend.

  At the end of the performance, I thanked the couple warmly. People in America were so kind and helpful and open. I couldn’t believe my luck. I waited at the entrance for Tristan and Jane. I couldn’t wait to tell them my news. When Tristan saw me, he charged like a rabid bull and grabbed my shoulders. ‘Where were you?’ He shook me. ‘I spent two hours searching the halls! I’ve never been so scared in my entire life!’

  ‘I told him not to worry . . .’ Jane said as she tried to loosen his grip. ‘That you could take care of yourself . . .’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ He shook me again, until my dentures clattered together. ‘I plan a fun evening and even invite your friend and this is how you repay me?’

  ‘Of course, I’m grateful.’ I tried to placate him. ‘I’m so grateful.’

  ‘You know how much I paid for those tickets. What a waste! Where were you anyway?’

  Money. It always came down to money. I decided not to tell him my news. And then I thought, What news? He would never let me work in San Francisco. And if I left him, what would I do? I didn’t have a green card, everything depended on my marriage to him. I was trapped. The happiness I felt just an hour before slipped away, as though it had never existed.

  Jane came with us to Emerson. We sat in the back seat, ignoring Tristan when he grumbled about being the chauffeur. Drive-drove-driven. ‘In Americ
a, a man and wife sit together.’

  ‘Well, in Odessa a man is chivalrous.’ Odessan men were sensitive to a woman’s pride. How I’d taken that for granted . . .

  He smirked. ‘Not so chivalrous if you had to leave the country to find a decent guy like me.’

  I snorted. And didn’t reply because Jane looked most uncomfortable.

  Tristan wasn’t himself in front of other people. He crowed to Jane about introducing me to jeans and T-shirts, as if I were totally ignorant about style. He could not have been prouder of introducing a great chef to fast food. He snickered at the way I prepared borscht saying I was crazy for wasting time boiling beets when I could just buy canned ones. We’re in America, he said, there’s no reason to do all this work. But I liked cooking for Jane. I liked spoiling guests. For the first time, I noticed that when he laughed, he brayed like a donkey.

  ‘Of course, she does things in her own way,’ Jane said, ‘but it’s not wrong, just different. It would be a boring world if we were all the same.’

  When I wanted to take a walk, he said it was easier to drive. When I made coffee – measured the beans, ground them, prepared the cups by warming them with hot water so that the coffee would stay hotter longer – he opened a can of beer and said his way was faster. His way was always more practical, faster, easier, cheaper, better.

  This was why I loved Jane. There were times I said or did something – I don’t know what exactly – and Tristan would give Jane a conspiratorial smirk as if to say, ‘She’s just a dumb foreigner. What do you expect?’

  Jane never smiled back.

  When I first arrived in Emerson, Boba and I spoke for only a few minutes, though Tristan encouraged me to talk longer. Since it was expensive, I phoned once a week just to say that I was fine. I was so happy to be in America that I didn’t miss Odessa and I didn’t miss her. It was only as time went on that I started to realize I’d taken Boba for granted. Each week, without really noticing it, we talked more and more. It grew harder and harder for me to hang up the phone.