The Cosmopolitans (25 page)

He heard a splash and turned to see Stalina’s legs in their pink
jeans, picking their way through the swampy lawn.

“
I’m in slippers, I can’t go all the way out
,” she said.

“
So go home, you’re giving all the animals palpitations with
your noise
,” he said, and turned away to face the neighbor’s fence.
The neighbor, Vick, a former alcoholic, grew tomatoes and rode a
motorcycle. Why couldn’t Osip have a life like that?

She sloshed toward him. “
What animals?
”

“
Hedgehogs, frogs,”
he said as she came near and ducked under
the tree’s branches, tore off a vine which had had the misfortune of
falling across her face.

“
See my slippers
?” She lifted a muddy foot in the air.

Osip gave an elaborate shrug.

“
Don’t worry about Yanka, she doesn’t know what she’s saying.
That Arab’s probably feeding her hookahs
.”

Osip realized one of the main reasons he’d married Stalina: she
was a girl who wouldn’t make him cry, who talked about preserving
your nerves, who wasted no feelings unless death or career failure
were involved. Crying was something Osip had done more of as a
boy than any other boy he’d known. And here it was again. Even
Stalina, in such moments, couldn’t keep him from it. Recidivism
would always rear its ugly head, no matter what the liberals said.

“
What am I going to do if you go crazy?
” Stalina took her
handkerchief from her pocket. “
Blow.
” He waved it away. “
I’ll get
them out of the house, and then I’ll make you tea.
”

Holding his nose, Osip shook his head. “
You
didn’t — you didn’t
say love — so it must — I’ve raised — I’ve raised —
”

“
Oh, what have you raised now?
”

Her skeptical tone made him almost angry enough to stop crying.
“
Daughters who have only contempt for my teachings!
”

“
You have teachings now?
”

“
You can mock me, too, I don’t care anymore
.”

“
You’re suddenly a Nihilist?
” Stalina had not actually said that,
but he felt her thinking it, and adding something about him being
older than Turgenev’s Fathers, and mentally younger than the Sons.

“
Why don’t you go home?
” he said.

A displaced seagull flew above the tree, and Stalina ducked her
head. She had a speech: Seagulls: Not Romantic Birds, as We Were
Led to Believe. “
Not without you
,” she said.

“
Why are you trying to make me feel bad?
”

“
Osya
.” She dripped and stared. He would have to go back.

Like an alien spacecraft, Yana had torn the roof from his
house, and there was no more warmth, only the feeling of someone
watching. Once they were inside, and the children had left, he told
Stalina these ludicrous imaginings, and she didn’t laugh at him, but
seemed to want to say with her eyes,
Don’t look up, then
.

Katya

She came carrying a bottle of water, because wasn’t that a good
thing for a girlfriend of a guy working construction to do?

“Kotletka,” Roman shouted over the noise. A kotletka was his
favorite food, a chicken patty, so it had become one of his nicknames
for her. The sight of his giant silver-toothed smile went to her head.

“
If we approach the blight of imperialism in a more systematic
way —”
She turned around and clapped her hand over her mouth:
the familiar feel of her own lips wetly moving.

A yellow-gloved hand on her shoulder. “What?” Roman said in
her ear.

“The voice.” She wasn’t going to yell it: he should know by
now. There were guys only ten feet away.

“The what?”

“The fucking voice,” she said in his ear. “Now your friends hate
me.”

“But they couldn’t fucking hear it. Because it’s so” — he spun a
finger in the air, “fucking loud.”

Katya let herself be turned back around. A few men were looking
at her, but in a friendly, leery way, as they might have looked at any
girl.

She leaned against a beam and watched him hammer. She’d
never spent any time watching construction work before, except for
in music videos. “Can I try?”

Roman only had to show her twice. The hammer wasn’t very
heavy at all. Holding it, she felt like a giant with a long, strong,
swinging arm. “You really like?” he said, and found her a mask, and
put his gloves on her hands, and warned she’d have to Audi if his
boss returned.

After a few minutes, she took off her mask and yelled, “This is
easier than I thought.” He gave her a thumbs-up. “Will you show me
how to drill?” He nodded again, a smile pushing up his mask. “Is
this so easy for everyone?” He shook his head. “What’s this smell
— wood chips?”

“Hot stuff, mask on face,” Roman said.

“Fine.” She finished the board. “Can I do another one?
We are a
unique state requiring unique —”
she covered her mouth, swiveled
her head. No one was looking at her. All that banging and sawing
sounded like electro-thrash, made her feel like she was back at that
non-alcoholic club she’d gone to freshman year of high school,
before so many things were her fault. She let her hand drop.

Roman

Roman, having recently discovered a few calling card tricks,
dialed his mother’s number as soon as his aunt and uncle left for
work.

“What up?” he said. He’d taught her this bit of American English
before he left.

“
Allo, Allo?”

“What up?” In the background, Alyosha said, “
kakoita bandit
?”,
some kind of bandit. Alyosha — the boyfriend who gave her heroin,
a gangster so small-time his street name was also the name by which
his mother called him.

“
It’s me
,” Roman finally said.

“
Romachka
!” Something clattered.

Roman said, “
I’m getting all kinds of medals in school
.”

“
Gold or silver?
” She sounded all right, she could follow a
conversation.

“
Mostly gold, but a few silver. I tried to send one to you, but the
post office told me it was too heavy.
”

“
It was too
—” His mother yelped, and Alyosha came onto the
phone.

“
So, boy, you found a baba
?” he said.

“Yeah. Pamela Anderson.”

“
It’s good to have a baba.
”

In the background, his mother said “
Lyosh,”
laughed.

Roman said, “
How is she
?” Who else could he ask?

His mother took back the phone. “
Roma, tell me something new,
something happy
.”

She’d made this request so often, he instantly thought of a half-
dozen new lies. But he didn’t have to lie about everything anymore.
“
I have a girlfriend, she’s very nice, she’s not wild
.”

“
Is she Jewish
?” His mother, who had conceived him with, to the
best of her recollection, an Armenian at a Feast Day disco, wished to
know whether this young lady was of the faith.

“
Yes, Jewish, from a good family, friends of Aunt Alla’s
.”

“
She’s not spending all your money?
” She didn’t sound as happy
as he’d thought she would.

“
Mam, no. I’ve saved over eight hundred dollars.
”

“
You’re buying a car
?
He’s buying a car, Lyosh
.” Alyosha
snorted into the phone.

“
Mam?
Remember, I’m saving to bring you here, to rent you a
nice apartment
?”

She sighed. “
Ah, da, and didn’t I tell you, I don’t need your
America? Lyosh, stop it
.”

“
Why don’t you just come for a visit and see
?”

“
Your aunt decided you’d luchi pajivyesh, live better with her, I
said all right. You weren’t fighting to stay here in the provinces with
your mother
.”