Warhead

by Jeff Henigson

  It was so hard not to say anything to Mike about my wish. With my suit hidden, and the almost unfathomable possibility of meeting the leader of one the most powerful countries in the world, I felt a bit like the spy who’d been following us. I thought about it in the shower, how I was hiding the truth, and it struck me that I’d been doing the same thing at home. When I was in pain, I never really let my mom know the extent of it. It was no different with Dad. I never told him how much it hurt sometimes to be his son. I didn’t come to any grand conclusion there, as I let the hot water trickle down my back. I just realized it wasn’t the best way to live.

  We went downstairs together for breakfast. I saw Gennady in the main lobby, and he waved at me. I told Mike to start, that I’d catch up with him in a minute. He was voraciously hungry every morning, so he didn’t require much persuading.

  “Your suit, Jeff,” Gennady said. “Is it unwrinkled?”

  I gulped in air. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Gennady winked at me.

  “Are you serious, Gennady?” I bounced from one foot to the other.

  “There is not guarantee for meeting, Jeff, please understand. But I have instruction to ask you be here in hotel lobby tomorrow morning at seven, dressed in suit.”

  I was breathless. I didn’t know what to say.

  “You understand?” Gennady asked.

  “Yes, Gennady, I understand. I’ll be there.” I remembered the present I’d brought for Mr. and Mrs. Gorbachev, a copy of my school yearbook, signed by teachers and students. “I have a book for Mr. Gorbachev. Should I bring it with me?”

  “Absolutely,” Gennady said. It sure sounded like a guarantee.

  Walking away from Gennady, I wanted to scream. I actually clenched my fists and bit my lip just to hold it in. A few feet away from the main doors, I drew in a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then blew it out. I stepped into the dining room.

  I found Mike sitting alone in the middle of the room, looking out the window. Karen was with some of the girls. She saw me and smiled, pointing to an empty seat at her table. I smiled back but motioned toward Mike.

  When I reached Mike’s table, he had a glass full of tea in one hand, and a big chunk of jam-covered bliny—Russian pancakes—on the fork he was holding, and his mouth was loaded with food. Still, he managed to ask me who I’d been talking to, with surprisingly little food falling out of his mouth.

  “The guy by the front desk? He was just checking up on me. I think they’re worried about my whole cancer history.” I was lying flagrantly, but Mike bought it.

  “Oh, okay. I was beginning to think you were with the KGB—you know, reporting to your boss.” He slapped his thigh and laughed. I rolled my eyes. “Hey, something else happened, I just heard.”

  “How do you possibly have conversations with your mouth full?”

  “I can totally stuff my face and listen at the same time. Anyway, Eric, the guy from Washington we had breakfast with yesterday, peeled a patch of mismatched wallpaper from his room and found a couple microphones in holes behind it. I’m telling you, man, we are totally being watched.”

  “I think you mean listened to.”

  “You can be so anal sometimes.”

  Mike tossed his napkin on the table and abruptly stood up. I thought I’d pissed him off—until he spoke. “Speaking of anal, the bathroom is calling.”

  “Further details are neither required nor desired,” I said.

  He grinned and took off.

  I made my way through my porridge, a weird-tasting version of American oatmeal, before turning to my tea. Russians are really into the stuff, and it was all right with a couple of spoonfuls of sugar. I looked out onto the square, sipping away, and then it struck me that on the following day, at the same time, I might be having tea with one of the most powerful leaders in the world. What would my father say? Not remarkable, since that only meant something worth a remark. Extraordinary wouldn’t be his word of choice, either, because it didn’t express the degree to which something was beyond ordinary. He’d use a word I’ve hardly ever heard him say—“amazing”—and the most remarkable, extraordinary, amazing thing about it would be that he’d be referring to his own son.

  I was lost in the feeling of that when Karen called my name. “Want to come back to Earth?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, smiling. “Sit down for a second. I want to tell you something.”

  She sat, squinting at me and tilting her head. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Jeff?”

  I couldn’t keep my secret any longer.

  “Remember back in Helsinki when I told you I was on this trip because I’d made a wish?”

  “Of course. This is your peace mission to the Soviet Union.”

  “Right. So my full wish is to sit down with Premier Gorbachev, you know, talk about nuclear weapons and the Cold War and all that stuff. And it looks like that might happen tomorrow morning.”

  “No way!” she said, slapping the table. Her mouth dropped open. She slowly shook her head. “That’s…that’s just incredible,” she said.

  “I know. I can hardly believe it myself. I’m supposed to show up in the lobby tomorrow morning at seven o’clock in a suit.”

  “Did you bring one?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Karen had a dazed look on her face. “What are you going to say to him?”

  “I’m not sure. Don’t jinx it or anything. They made a point of telling me it’s not guaranteed. Just that I should show up tomorrow morning in my suit.”

  “That sounds pretty guaranteed to me.”

  “I know, but I’m being cautious. Look, I had to get that off my chest. I’m not telling anyone else, except for my roommate tonight, so please keep this absolutely secret.”

  She touched her chest. “Thank you for choosing to share that with me, Jeff.” Then she laughed and quickly shook her head again, as if she were clearing her mind. “Here we go again,” she said as she stood. “Proof that you’re incredible.”

  It took the most intense discipline not to mention my possible meeting with Mr. Gorbachev to anyone else in our group for the rest of the day. Every time I got close to telling someone, I bit my lip. It left a mark, but it did get me through the afternoon sessions, dinner, and the first half hour back in the room with Mike. It was against hotel rules to leave the room after 10:00 at night, and given that it was now 9:58, I figured I could let the cat out of the bag.

  Mike’s reaction was a lot like Karen’s. He was dumbfounded. “Dude, why didn’t you tell me about your whole wish?”

  “I wasn’t sure it would come true. My chances now are much better.”

  “Wait a sec, is that why you were talking to that guy before breakfast?”

  “Yeah, I kind of fibbed. Sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I still don’t want everyone to know, until it actually happens. Do you really think it would have been possible for you to keep your mouth shut?”

  “No, but you should have told me anyway. I can’t believe you’re gonna meet the Gorbster!”

  “Dude!” I said, putting a finger over my lips and pointing to the five-inch-square patch of mismatched wallpaper above my bed. As soon as we heard about the bug in Eric’s room, we’d looked for one in ours. The mismatch seemed pretty obvious. And this was after that girl in our group found two guys searching her suitcase. I wasn’t being neurotic, and Mike definitely knew it—the KGB really did have their eyes on us.

  “Oh, come on. They’re not going to care,” Mike said.

  I was wondering if I should say anything when we heard three quick knocks on the door. Both Mike and I stiffened. My stomach knotted up, so much that I keeled over for a second, but Mike’s focus was squarely on the door. “Do you think that’s them?” he whispered, sitting up. “What should we
do?” There were more knocks. He stood next to the door and looked back at me, waiting for instructions.

  “Open it,” I said as my hands started to quiver.

  Standing at the entrance were two girls from our group, Heidi and Kim. They were shaking. “We’re in trouble,” Heidi said. “Please please please let us in.” Kim glanced nervously down the hallway.

  “It’s past curfew,” I said from where I still sat on the bed. “You’re supposed to be in your room.”

  “We don’t have the key,” Kim said. “We’ll get busted. Can you just let us in?”

  Mike looked over to me. “Come on, Jeff. They obviously need some help.”

  My shoulders dropped a foot, which Mike read as me conceding, and he ushered them in. He quietly closed the door.

  “Thank you so much, guys,” Heidi said, plopping down on Mike’s bed. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “You just did,” I said, frowning. I was getting increasingly concerned, and it felt like the knot in my stomach was tightening.

  “Don’t you worry about Jeff,” Mike said to Heidi. “He needs a chill pill. I would, too, if I were having a high-power meeting with the Gorbster tomorrow morning.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Mike,” I said sharply.

  “Gorbachev?” Kim said, coming over to me. “Are you meeting with Mikhail Gorbachev?”

  “I’m supposed to.”

  Kim seemed stunned. “Wow,” she finally said. “That’s incredible.”

  “What are you going to talk about?” Heidi asked.

  “Lots of things,” I said. I really didn’t want to go into the details. I wanted them to leave, but they probably would get in trouble, and I couldn’t just throw them to the wolves. My mind raced to find a solution, because surely, they couldn’t settle in with us for the night.

  “Jeff primarily wants to know if that massive wine-colored splotch on Gorby’s forehead is real,” Mike said before cracking up at his own stupid joke.

  “Not funny,” I said.

  Kim was smiling. Heidi giggled. Mike pointed at their faces.

  “Okay, perhaps slightly funny, but not helpful,” I conceded.

  I shouldn’t have given Mike an inch, because he took off with it.

  “Helpful,” Mike said. “That’s what you need to be, Jeff. When you’re in there with the Gorbster, offer to polish his splotch. That could be a big first step toward world peace.”

  Kim tried to hold back her laugh but couldn’t any longer when Heidi lost it. Mike had a huge grin on his face. He was satisfied. I, on the other hand, was fuming.

  I imagined what was going on in the office where our conversation was being monitored. They were hearing jokes being cracked about their leader. We were violating hotel rules by having the girls in the room. All of this was jeopardizing something I’d worked so hard for.

  I stood up, took three long steps to the door, and opened it. “Get out,” I said to the girls. Their smiles turned to frowns.

  “Come on, Jeff,” Mike said. “We’re just playing around.”

  I stared at him coldly. “You can leave with them,” I said.

  “Where are we supposed to go?” Kim asked, pouting.

  “Wake up one of the coordinators. I honestly don’t care. Just get out of my room—now.” They stared at me, but I didn’t budge. After a few seconds, they left.

  I switched off the overhead light by the door. Both bedside lamps were on, and I could see Mike sitting there, scratching his cheek. “I didn’t mean to piss you off,” he finally said. I stayed silent. “Jeff, I was just playing around.”

  I wanted to slap him. The meeting was my only chance to do something truly meaningful with my life, and he’d put it in jeopardy. But if people were listening, and I was sure they were, getting into a huge fight with Mike might only worsen my chances. The only thing I could do was hope, and for that I needed silence.

  “Good night, Michael,” I said as sternly as possible, and switched off my lamp. To my surprise, he got the point.

  * * *

  •

  I woke up early, before my alarm went off, and slipped into the bathroom, holding my suit and tie. Even though it had taken ages to calm down enough to fall asleep, I felt fully rested. In the shower, I thought about whether I should bow to Mr. Gorbachev or shake his hand, and decided that somebody would instruct me; all I had to do was get my tie on right. In the end it was good that I woke up early, since it took me seven tries.

  With my suit on, my tie in place, and my ski jacket in hand—I didn’t have an overcoat—I tiptoed my way through our room.

  “Good luck,” Mike said as I turned the knob.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “If anybody’s sorry, it’s me, Jeff. I was a jerk last night. I hope everything goes well.”

  “Thanks.” I appreciated the apology. “See you later—and please apologize to the girls for me. I was just freaking out.”

  “Will do. I’m sure they’ll understand. Now go represent for us.”

  Ed was downstairs with Gennady and a guy I hadn’t seen before. He looked very official—he was dressed in a suit—which was promising. I walked up to them and said good morning.

  Gennady introduced me to Vladimir Petrov. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Jeff,” he said.

  “A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Petrov.”

  “I am sorry to inform you that Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev is unable to meet with you today. Something important has come up.”

  I swallowed.

  “I see.” I thought quickly. “That’s fine, because we’ll be here for five more days, and I’m sure I could come any time he is available.” I looked to Ed to back me up, and he nodded.

  “Yes, Jeff. I understand,” Mr. Petrov said. “I am sorry but Premier Gorbachev will be busy for as long as you are here.” I felt as if I’d just gotten punched in the gut. Mr. Petrov went on. “But a very important person, Dr. Evgeny Velikhov, a scientist who is an expert on nuclear affairs, would like to meet with you. He is with his wife, Natalia, at their dacha, their home in the countryside, and they have invited you to come visit.”

  I didn’t respond for several seconds. I couldn’t. I felt completely winded, like those times when I was a kid and tried to run alongside my dad, or like in the hospital after surgery, when Dr. Egan had me stand up for the first time. I’d been given a wish, and in so many ways I’d put my whole life into it.

  In a single sentence, it had evaporated.

  I felt as if I’d evaporated, too.

  Ed said my name, which pulled me back to the moment, and I spoke. “That is very kind, Mr. Petrov.” Everyone smiled, and I followed suit, though their smiles came from relief and mine was a forgery.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Petrov said. “A ZiL will pick you up after breakfast.” I had no idea what he meant, but I didn’t bother asking. “You do not need to wear a suit. Just bring an overnight bag.”

  We shook hands and I went back upstairs. Mike was coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Did you forget something?” he asked.

  “The meeting has been canceled.” It was painful to hear myself say that.

  “Oh God. Was it because of last night? I’m so sorry, Jeff. Jeez, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

  A tear started down my cheek, but I wiped it away. Mike’s eyes were on the floor. I drew in a long breath and slowly blew it out.

  “I’ll never know, Mike. But listen”—he looked at me—“I never want to talk about it again, okay?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  I started changing into regular clothes and stuffed the basics into my backpack. Mike asked where I was going, and I told him I’d be meeting a scientist and his wife somewhere in the countryside and I’d be back the next day.


  Still in his towel, Mike came over to shake my hand. “I hope it’s a truly satisfying trip,” he said.

  I could tell he was being sincere. And he obviously hadn’t meant to scuttle my meeting. For all the disappointment I was feeling, I couldn’t be mad at the guy.

  “Look, Mike, if you don’t take two hours to get ready, and if you can avoid cracking jokes about nuclear scientists, we can have breakfast together,” I said.

  Mike looked at me sheepishly.

  “Dude, I’m kidding,” I said. “Well, I guess I’m serious, since you’re not supposed to leave the room naked, and I would like to grab a bite with you.” I smiled at Mike, and he smiled back.

  * * *

  •

  I assumed a ZiL was a kind of driver, but instead it was the name of a Soviet car manufacturer, so it was a guy driving a black ZiL limousine who picked me up. There was tons of traffic, but we passed all of it, racing down Moscow streets in a center lane reserved for cars with government license plates.

  For a moment, I let myself pretend that I was on my way to see Mr. Gorbachev and his wife, Raisa, at his dacha. The idea was pleasant, but only fleetingly. Soon I felt the same pit in my gut that had been there when Mr. Petrov told me Gorbachev was too busy to see me.

  I looked out the window. We were on the outskirts of the city, leaving it behind, along with my wish.

  I inhaled deeply. As I exhaled, the window fogged over. I found myself nodding slowly.