Moonlight in Odessa (18 page)

‘I suppose it’s too late to escape,’ the director noted wryly and closed the door of the boardroom, which did almost nothing to muffle the scene.

‘I told you over the phone, honey, I care about Olga,’ Harmon said.

‘How could you give this cow a bigger engagement ring than Mummy’s? You’re just a dirty old man,’ Melinda sobbed.

‘Olga makes me happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?’

‘Noooooo,’ she wailed.

What surprised me most during this altercation was that Olga remained silent. I expected her to start wailing as well. Instead, she said, ‘I go now. You talk.’

Her grace only reminded me that my role in this little play was contemptible.

‘How long do you think we’ll be trapped in here?’ Mr. Kessler asked.

I shrugged. He could leave whenever he wanted, I was the one stuck here. My skin so hot, my longing so fierce, my days so long.
I hunched by the window, my forehead melting the glass
. I was weary. Weary of poverty. Weary of intrigue. Weary of manipulation. Weary of working two jobs and never seeing Boba. Weary of constantly having to remind myself that I was one of the lucky people, with a nice flat and a good paying job. Because lately I didn’t feel lucky. Not at all.
Gray raindrops on the windowpane
. I wanted someone to lean on, someone strong to shelter me. I wanted to live in a place where the laws were not made by the mafia, where policemen, schoolteachers, and doctors were not corrupt, where people treated each other with dignity and respect. Could a place like that exist?

According to Tristan in California, it did. His letters convinced me that his world was a kinder, gentler one. ‘On my way to work this morning, I got a flat tire. The first car that drove by stopped to help. Its things like this that make me happy to live where I live. But I bet folks are nice where you live, too. People are people, right?

‘This weekend I went to Yosemite National Park. Have I told you about it? It holds the largest living things – Sequoia trees. There so wide that long ago a man cut a large hole at the base so that cars could drive thru it. There so tall that they surely must touch the heavens.’ I loved this image of a tree so tall that its branches tickle God’s feet. But I didn’t believe that a car could drive through a tree though – that’s just silly.

At first, what he wrote was lighthearted and even superficial. But as time went on, the tone changed, ‘It was a awesome day in Yosemite. The fresh smell of leaves, the light filtering thru the trees, but all I could think of was you. You mean so much to me.

‘Im forty. My friends have all hooked up. They have families and kids to go home to. Like them, I want someone to share my life with . . .’

Tristan was becoming dear to me. I wrote that I looked forward to reading his letters, that they made going to the office bearable and that it seemed like we wanted the same things: love, companionship, a family. I asked if he wanted children. After I hit the send button, I berated myself and tried to get the letter back. But it was gone. He probably thought I was too forward. I’d probably never hear from him again. Still, I checked my e-mail account every ninety seconds, hoping. I realized only an obsessional fiend would do this, yet I couldn’t stop myself. And I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. When his response came, relief washed through me.

Dear Daria,

I would love to have a family, to have children, especially a little girl who looks like you.

All my love,

Tristan

For the first time, I printed his letter. And caressed the words.

Meanwhile, Vlad became more and more persistent. He had flowers delivered to the office. Harmon said they gave him hay fever, so I offered them to Vita and Vera. He sent chocolates. I slipped them to a pensioner begging in the street. Then jewelry. But as I looked in the mirror with the five-carat emerald around my neck, I reminded myself that mobsters proffered jewels the way normal people handed out breath mints. I gave the ruby bracelet to Valentina, the emerald to Boba.

He tucked scraps of paper under my keyboard and in between file folders. I found them at unexpected moments during the day. Quotes from Pushkin.

I remember the sea before a storm:

How I envied the waves,

Running in turbulent succession

With love to lie at her feet!

How I wished then with the waves

To touch those dear feet with my lips.

I kept his notes under my pillow.

Tristan wrote, ‘The most important thing to me is having a wife and children. More then anything, I want a family. I don’t need tons a money or a fancy car. My dream is simple – I want to love and be loved by my wife and children. Is it too early to talk like this? Should I of waited?’ I wrote that I shared his dream. I wanted a home of my own and children – what woman doesn’t? I hesitated to hit the send button, thinking of Vlad. Although I’d never admit it aloud, I liked him. I really liked him. He was smart and sexy and I felt so . . . alive in his presence. ‘Twitterpated,’ Jane would say. But Vlad disappeared for long periods at a time, and his money was as dirty as the streets of Odessa. He certainly wasn’t father material. And if I wanted a life that didn’t include bodyguards and body bags, Tristan, my Californian teacher, was the more intelligent choice.

I hit send.

Not that body bags didn’t have their appeal, I thought as I sat at my desk and prepared our quarterly report, half-listening to Harmon corner colleagues in the corridor to coerce them into buying Olga’s delusions of art. Sometimes, it was so tempting to tell Vlad everything and let him deal with it. I imagined Olga’s blue-tinted skin, eyes wide open, faint bruises around her throat where she’d been strangled, a bloody dent in Harmon’s head where he’d been hit with a shovel. Who could say that these images didn’t appeal? But I never said anything about work to Vlad, even if some days I was sorely tempted. And never more than today.

When Harmon walked back into the office after dealing with Melinda, Olga, and Mr. Kessler, he said, ‘We need to talk.’

Are there any four words that strike more fear into the heart?

I folded my hands and waited.

‘Daria, there’s no easy way to say this. Olga wants your job.’

He closed his eyes, perhaps waiting for my wrath to rain down upon his wavy brown hair.

‘I’m willing to negotiate,’ I said and moved into the boardroom. I’d known this day would come and had prepared for it. Harmon followed me and sat in his black leather chair at the head of the table. I sat at the opposite end.

‘When I told Kessler that you were interested in getting your master’s, he authorized me to give you six months’ pay as a bonus.’

I smiled sweetly. Of course, he’d made it sound like leaving was my idea. If Harmon quoted six months, Mr. Kessler had undoubtedly said nine. I’d find out.

‘Six weeks,’ I replied. ‘I give you six weeks with that woman in the office. If you survive, and are actually happy with her work, I’ll give you my “bonus.” Call it a wedding present from your matchmaker.’

‘Fine!’ he said gleefully, mentally putting the money in his wallet.

‘If after those six weeks you find that you can’t do without me, I’ll return. You’ll double my salary. And ban her from the office.’

‘Double or nothing? I can live with that,’ he said and stuck out his hand.

I held his hand in mine and asked, ‘So quickly? You can barely open your e-mail account without me. Who will deal with the Stanislavskis? Who will wipe the pornography sites off your computer history before the executives from Haifa inspect our office?’

‘That was you?’ he asked, sounding impressed for once.

‘What did you think happened when you couldn’t find your “Busty Gals” link? Of course it was me. What if she sees Vlad Stanislavski and decides to trade you in for a younger model?’

‘She’d never do that,’ he sputtered. ‘She’s with me.’

I’d raised just enough doubt. ‘You don’t know her like I do,’ I said bitterly.

He looked at me, still holding my hand in his. Did he want to say more? We stood like that, for what seemed like minutes. I looked into his eyes, felt his hand warm mine, and I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him the truth about her. It felt like it could be the right moment. But I was afraid that he wouldn’t believe me. Or that he’d be angry. So I just said, ‘I’ll take a six-week leave of absence and then we’ll see.’

‘You’re pretty damn sure of yourself,’ he grumbled, releasing my hand.

‘You need me.’ I would never admit that perhaps, just perhaps, I needed him, too.

‘Not anymore, I have Olga.’

Was it just wishful thinking, or did his voice warble at this last sentence?

‘Do you want me to train her?’

‘No, she said you’ve helped her enough.’

I looked at Harmon for a long moment. ‘Goodbye, then.’

I had no personal belongings at the shipping office. I looked under my keyboard and went through the papers sitting on my desk to be sure I hadn’t missed a message from Vlad. Harmon said goodbye. I glared and strode out of the office to Soviet Unions. When Valentina heard that I was all hers, she crowed gleefully, ‘That fool’s loss is my gain! At least for the next six weeks! Look how wan you are! You work too hard.’

Perhaps she was right. I would have more time with Boba. I thought of Olga, Vita, and Vera. It would do me a world of good to be out of the viper’s nest. While I looked over bills from the caterer and the liquor suppliers, Valentina made up a ‘to do’ list for me. ‘Since you’re here full-time, I’ve decided to add a Wednesday afternoon tea and a Thursday tour. You’ll be in charge of both. I want you to create new sections on our website called “Frequently Asked Questions” and “Tips for Finding the Love of Your Life.” You can take pictures of the happy couples for the success stories page –’

The ringing phone interrupted her list. ‘Allo,’ she answered and handed the phone to me.

‘Daria. You have to help me. My computer froze up and I don’t know what to do.’

‘Turn it off and turn it back on again.’

‘Oh, right. Right. Should have thought of that myself. How are things going?’

‘You mean since I saw you last, an hour ago?’ I asked, looking at the mother of pearl watch he’d given me to celebrate our first six months together. ‘Fine.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Well, then. Goodbye.’

I put the receiver back in its cradle.

‘So he misses you already?’

‘Computer problems.’

‘As I was saying, you could interview couples.’

The phone rang again. ‘Vladimir Stanislavski is here, and he’s upset that you’re not. He wants to know why you’ve gone. How do you say “She’s not fired” in Russian?’

‘You did fire me.’

‘It’s a trial period!’

‘You can’t call here every ten minutes. It isn’t professional. Have Olga talk to him. How did you get this number?’ There were no white or yellow pages in Ukraine. He was resourceful when he wanted to be.

I hung up the phone and apologized to Valentina.

Ten minutes later, a sleek sedan parked in front of the window. ‘And here I thought having you full-time would be an advantage,’ Valentina joked. At least, I hoped she was joking.

Vlad stormed into the office and asked, ‘What happened? I couldn’t get any information from Harmon. That idiot can’t put two words together.’

Of course, Harmon was usually quite smooth, he was just a bit intimidated by Vlad. I gestured for him to sit down and gave him the abridged version.

‘Do you want me to get your job back for you?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely not. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.’

‘You know, it’s okay to lean on someone. I have broad shoulders.’

I bit my lip. I’d noticed his shoulders when we’d danced together.

‘Come for a walk with me after work,’ he cajoled.

Valentina watched speculatively, so I agreed just to get him out of the office.

‘She said yes!’ Vlad winked at Valentina on his way out the door. His eyes narrowed the slightest amount. He must have noticed that she was wearing the ruby bracelet he’d given me. It went so well with her black angora sweater.

‘So, for the website, a section on frequently asked questions, tips, and success stories,’ I said, hoping Valentina wouldn’t ask about Vlad.

‘Plus a description of the Wednesday afternoon tea and Thursday tour of Odessa. You’ll have to interview for two more interpreters – they keep running off and getting married. Can you believe I pay these women to interpret, then they find a guy they like and sabotage his relationship with the girl they’re
supposed
to be helping? It’s like I’m paying them to apply for a green card. Unbelievable!’

She fumed about an ungrateful generation of youth, and I sank into my chair, relieved that she wasn’t going to bring him up. Then she smirked and said, ‘I had no idea that having you full-time would bring such excitement. A date with Vladimir Stanislavski?’