Faces Incarnated

It rained.
Days like these had been our favourite. I moved towards a chair and sat down looking out. The noise of the water hitting the window soothed me. It reminded me of the many nights when Alexei and I would just sit together and listen to nature’s symphony.
Closing my eyes I imagine a time when we would cuddle on the couch, Alexei’s arms around me, listening to the soft taps on the windowpane. Just letting the sound and our body heat consume us.
It rained for days.
Perhaps the weather was just reflecting my own emotions: sadness and loneliness. Just like a drop of rain I am alone, yet with others of my own kind simultaneously.
A hand reached for my shoulder and I turn to see my son looking at me. He looked so much like his father when I met him. His strict upbringing and my husband’s love of water had sent our son into the Navy and though he was trying to put on his officer’s façade I could see his pain. The worry lines on his forehead distorted his handsome face. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to take care of you.”
I smiled at his gesture, but we both knew that I would never accept. My years of freedom, both in and out of marriage had moulded me into the person I am, and binding myself to my son’s family permanently scared me: the thought that I might shrivel up within structure and conformity of family life. My own family, as a child, had been claustrophobic with my father’s iron fist and my mother’s submissiveness towards him was what caused me to leave in the first place.
I turned back to the rain and looked out.

45 years before, Gorky Park, Moscow

“Katherine, it’s raining.” My mother called me.
“Well, then we’ll get wet. It isn’t all that far to the metro.” I told her. I peered outside and saw that it really was raining hard.
“I’m not going to get my hair wet!” My mother informed me.
“Mum, I don’t have time for this; I need to go back to work. As it is I’m already late because Marie insisted on going on another ride.”
“So take a cab and go!” Mother’s patience for me had always been so short. Being the older of the two girls I had always gotten the bad end. The bad end of the belt, the argument, the choice in college. All in all I was just loved less. So it always surprised me when my parents came to visit, because it always seemed like they came because they felt like they needed to ruin my life, and though I was glad to see Marie, my parents could just as well have stayed at home.
“I can’t leave you here, how will you get home?” I countered.
“We’ll grab a cab.”
I gave up. “Fine. I’ll see you later. Bye Marie.”
“Bye Kat.” My little sister said before I ran out into the rain.
I was so relaxed by the cold wet water that hit me. By the time I had reached the min road I was soaked to the bone. I held my hand out to flag down a car, and in no time someone stopped. I got in. “Zdras vooyte,” I greeted him. “Slavianskaya, pazhalsta.” I gave him my destination and sat back.
“You speak Russian very well.” He said slowly in English. The amount of years I had studied Russian had given me the ability to speak like a native. It constantly surprised me when people picked up on my native language of English.
“Thank you.” I answered back. “Your English is very good too. Where did you learn?”
“I go to Los Angeles two year ago.”
I nodded and looked out the window.
My interest in Russia was founded in high school, with my first boyfriend’s family. They had moved from Russia to Boston the year before we met, and the time I spent with them had hooked me to the language and culture. It had all engulfed me and then to my parents’ disappointment I decided on journalism and Russian instead of Medicine or Law for college.
Perhaps I was just being rebellious subconsciously but it was more than that. So much more.
“What you do?” He asked.
“I’m a journalist. I write for the Moscow Times.”
“Ahh,” said in understanding.
I smiled. Then opening my bag looked for some money. I soon discovered I only had 150 roubles. “Sto pedisyiat, garashau?” <150,> I asked him.
He thought for a moment. “Da.” He answered. The ride would have at least cost me 200 roubles, and I secretly thanked God for having such a fortunate driver. We swerved through small streets heading for our destination until we hit the wrong corner. Roadblock.
The blocks were Putin’s latest attempts at catching skinheads, but contrary to what he said, they were ways of trapping foreigners and getting them to pay.
The two officers went to either side of the car. “Ostanivites!” the driver ordered me to stay and got out leaving the door open. “Ya magu vam pomoch?” His Russian was accented from the southern part of Russia, and it’s hypnotic tone made me listen carefully.
“Vi kovo vezjote?” One officer asked.
“Moju Schenu,” he lied.
“Pachemu ona sidit zadi?”
I listened carefully to both of them. Why would he help me so much? I wondered.
“Ona beremena”
Upon hearing that my eyes went wide open. I took my bag and shoved it under my shirt and sat back. I placed my hand on top to hide the wrinkles of the bag and watched as the other officer came to the back window and looked in.
I feared he might see through the story. What would they do to us? The police officers were known for being unsaintly. I knew my face was covered in fear, but he must have taken it for pain and looked up. “Ona roscheat?” He asked. His voice was much higher than his partners. Almost like a child’s.
“Da. Ja tolschen je-jo devesti do balmitsi.”
At that moment I started to scream.
“Oi, oi, oi!” The taxi driver said and opening the side door came to sit next to me. “It’s okay.” His words both for the benefit of the police and me.
I smiled and softly added in English. “Keep it up, you’re doing great. I’m Katherine.”
“Alexei.” He said with a smile and then got back out. “Mne nuschno idti.” he pleaded with them in his mother tong.
“Idti, idti!” The officer said and stepped back. Alexei got into the cab and sped off. When we’d cleared the blockage by a street we both broke down laughing.
“Spaseba!” I thanked him.
“Nichevo.” He answered gesturing that it was nothing. “You actress, Katja.” He smiled into the rear-view mirror.
“I had good help.” I said and waited for him to stop in front of the hotel in which the offices of the Moscow Times were situated. Then taking the money I handed it to him.
“Ni-et.” He said pushing it back. “You keep.”
“Oh, Alexei, I can’t do that.”
He smiled but kept his decision.
I smiled and looked at the money in my hand. Then on a moment’s impulse I reached for a pen from my bag and on the 100 roubles note wrote my name and phone number.
When he realised what I was doing he smiled, but took the money. For him I guess it was a win-win situation, or so he told me years later. Then grabbing my bag I said: “Call me.” And stepped out of the cab.

Present time, Los Angeles

“Babushka?” I turned from the window to look at my granddaughter.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Are you thinking about grandpa?”
“Yes I am.” I smiled and let her sit on my lap.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m remembering some of the fun we had.” I smiled at the child that looked so much like my younger sister when she was her age.
“Tell me one, please?” I looked into her pleading eyes: so much like Marie. “Well, I remember when Grandpa and I moved back to the States. Your dad was about two years old and he was running around causing havoc all over the place.” The child laughed at the thought of her father being naughty and looked up at me.
“Grandpa was sitting at the table and talking to Mr. McCutchin…”

38 Years Before, Los Angeles

“Jack, what kind of work is there out there for me? I was a sjegoolie driver for ten years.” I watched Alexei say to the elder man in front of him.
“Alex. You went to university, you’re a chemist and we’re in need of them right now. Let me talk to some people and see what’s coming up. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” Alexei said.
Jack smiled and looked at me. “It was really good to see you again Katherine. Thank you for the piece of cake. It was a great.”
“Goodbye, Jack. I hope we’ll see you soon.” I let him out and then turned to Alexei. “You’ll have a job soon.” I told him, Russian rolling off my tong.
Just then there was a crash. We both ran into the bathroom to see that my son had been trying to reach for something in the medicine cabinet and had brought everything down with him. He lay on the floor crying, after having hit his head.
“Oi, Nikolai,” my husband said and picking up his son. I began cleaning the mess that had been left behind.

Present day, Los Angeles

“What was he trying to reach, Babushka?” She asked looking at me.
“A toy frog,” I said.
The little girl burst out laughing. “A frog?”
“Yeah. Grandpa had brought him a plastic frog home for him, but he’d been bad and I’d put it up there.”
“What’s so funny?” Nikolai asked.
“Grandma was telling me about your toy frog, Daddy.” The child told her father.
Nikolai laughed. “I miss that frog.” He said mocking the toy briefly. “Best friend I ever had.”
Alexei would have said the exact same thing given the context, I thought. Being with my son was as if my Alexei hadn’t died a week ago. Perhaps I would go live with him. Being with Nikolai was like having my husband around. A younger more serious version than the carefree Russian I had loved for so many years, but none the less the resemblance was there. Plus, I would get to be with my granddaughter Marie, who mirrored the sister I had lost a few years ago.
Looking up at Nikolai I said, “Okay.”
He didn’t ask what I was talking about; he just nodded, leaned down and kissed my cheek.
Just like his father would have.


END