Hopefully, he’s better off than I thought. Like a Morning glory curled around a gate, I cling to that.
35. HOPE
Another day rolls by as I wait for someone to contact me. Zack and I are sitting on the couch, playing peek-a-boo when I hear rustling at the door.
I’m betting it’s Natasha’s full length mink coat.
“Be a good boy for me, Zack and play with toys on the bed. Mommy has to talk to someone.” I mutter as I carry him into the bedroom.
“Your phone not working, but I have news for you. Let me in!” She shouts as she pounds the door.
Good Grief! Is there a fire?
Waltzing in, her eyes search for Zack; then, she looks at me like I’m the impertinent door man. Her red silk low-cut shirt and black wool pants are a mix of hot and dark.
Just like me, hot with anger and dark with an agenda—to keep her at a distance and escape.
I sneer, moving my hand quickly to cover my “sudden” need to cough.
“Okay…” I murmur, looking above her head.
“Ethan is at Vladmir Central now. They treat his wound since the Embassy tell them he is a political prisoner. Reports are they cut a piece to prevent spread of infection. Your Dad contact Embassy and hire investigator. He thinks he can prove Ethan not guilty.”
“That’s the best! The best news! I yell, finally, a touchdown thrill in a lopsided game.
I notice Natasha chooses to ignore my sudden burst of happiness.
“How?”
“The investigator believes that he can get the video from the bar that night. Do you remember the date?”
“Yes,” I tell her. I wish I could forget, but it’s burned in my brain. It was November 25th which is an important date in America.”
“I will tell him. Now, I want to hold Zack.”
“Wait!” I extend my arm out to her, my hand spread to stop her motion.
“How does the investigator think he can get the video?” I quiz.
With a roll of her eyes and a this-is-a-waste of my time frown, she explains.
“The Mafia make surveillance tapes of bar every day. They do this for many reasons—keep people true and to find new marks for biz.”
My brain begins to weld together the information.
An employee would lie to the Mafia? Or cheat the Mafia? Risky, but it happens in the US with rival groups. No reason it wouldn’t be possible here.
Marks for biz? That must mean trolling for targets for robbery, prostitution or … scapegoats for their crimes.
“Wouldn’t they keep those tapes secure, locked away?” My face feels like a slideshow of emotions—sad, hopeful, tentative and happy that there’s a chance for exoneration.
“No, they are Mafia. No one interested in stealing those tapes from them. Thieves only interested in cash, money, jewelry. He thinks they’ll be in a box in the bar,” She says evenly.
Yes! Finally, I have an anchor for hope and optimism. What an angle! My smile is irrepressible, refusing to drown in dark thoughts. Ripples of relaxation wash over me as I soak in the warm memories of holding Ethan in my arms.
“Now, back to Zack. I want to see him.”
Here we go again, back to the grind of dealing with Natasha.
“I’ll go check on him to see if he’s asleep,” I offer. As I walk toward the bedroom, I feel her eyes following my every step. A loud thud answers my question as Zack hurls a toy at the wall. In the doorway, he sees me, greeting me first with a giggle then a spray of raspberry. I nod my head as the can’t-be-denied smile returns.
He couldn’t be more perfect! I love him so! And I won’t let her make him cry!
As I lean over the bed, he reaches his arms out to me. Hoisting him into my arms, I inch my way into the next room—floating in a stormy sea of thoughts.
Need to figure out how to manage this. How? How?
I’ve got to temper my actions. I know a mother is one of the most dangerous creatures on earth. Like it or not, I may need her. But she is untrustworthy. I see it and feel it.
As I walk toward her, I feel his once soft heavy body turn to concrete. And I know exactly what I must do.
As we enter the room, she bounds across the distance separating us—her arms outstretched. Her eyes laser-in on Zack, like a guided missile. He squirms and buries his head in my neck, his binky scratching my neck with ever-increasing rhythm like a woodpecker on a tree in relentless pursuit of pecking gratification.
“Wait! He’s been sick, and he may make you sick,” I lie.
“I do not care! I want to hold him!” She cries as she lunges toward him, wrenching him from my arms. Rivers of lava churn through my veins as I’m forced to let go. I see the volcano erupting as his binky falls to the floor.
I’m not playing tug-of-war with my baby!
“Stop! Give him back to me! He doesn’t like to be grabbed!” I hiss.
“Zack, I love you. I want baby!” she cries out as he screams in fury. Tears stream from his cheeks. His bottom lip quivers as he gasps for air.
“I said give him back to me now! He’s still sick and now upset!” I shriek. “Think about him. It’s not just about you!” I glare with the ferocity of a momma bear, my heart full of adrenaline and anger.
Tears mist her eyes as he reaches his arms out for me.
As I take him from her, I notice her red silk shirt is wet, wet over her breasts. Black and blue fingerprints dot her neck ineptly camouflaged by pancake foundation. A hickey peeks out from the top of her bra.
Oh my, she’s fighting a lot of problems. How sad! She’s producing milk for Zack. She’s way too involved, but I need the info about Ethan. We need her help. I must walk a line between white-hot hate and cool compromise. Bet this wouldn’t have happened with an adoption specialist rather than a conscripted never-done-it-before, never-will-do-it-again company executive. Oh, well. It is what it is… A sigh escapes my lips as I study Natasha’s face.
“Maybe, you should take a different approach. Talk to him or play with him. Don’t just grab him like he’s your mink coat. Be respectful of his space and opinions,” I advise sincerely.
Turning away from me, she wipes away her tears and veers toward the door as a weathered slouching wreck of a woman.
Before she exits, she turns to me.
“I want baby, but boyfriend says no. He not let me have one,” she sputters.
I hope her rotten boyfriend treats her better than her brother does. How could a boyfriend allow that? Is she dealing with two abusive men or could her rotten “boyfriend” be her brother?
***
I must be more understanding. I have to be always aware of her hardship. Wish I’d known this pre-trip. You never know what’s going on in someone’s life. How can she even stay hinged? I shudder at the thought of two abusive men in her life.
Two days pass as I wait for the next visitor. A visitor brings information while enjoying the company of another adult is irrelevant.
At noon, a knock at the door as a note slides under the door.
I try to get information for you about Ethan. It may be too difficult to try to help him at this time. I would not keep my hopes high. You’re in a bad situation I know, but be patient. Maybe, I can get someone to help me help you. The Embassy told your Dad that Americans who commit crimes have to pay the price. Sorry the news is bad.
Viktoria
After reading it twice, I crumple it, and burn it over the stove, but that isn’t enough. I grab the damp dishtowel, lying on the counter, to wipe away the remaining ashes. As I rinse the towel, I watch the gray ashes circle the drain before they disappear.
36. FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Tossing and turning in bed, my mind ricochets from one question to the next.
Could Viktoria have an agenda too? What could she possibly want?
Looking at the clock, I see that it’s 3 am, I’ve been trying to sleep since midnight.
So far, there’s been no reason to distrust Viktoria, but Natasha…
&n
bsp; Of course, I interact more with Natasha.
I have to remember that false hope is the worst agony. Have to try to remember not to bury myself in worry about things over which I have no control. It could drive me to drink. Need to find out how and when we can get out of here. Need answers about Viktoria.
“Groceries!”
It’s the first step. I have a plan.
Bolting out of bed, I throw aside the covers. After switching on the lamp, I rummage through Zack’s clothes, looking for a red sock or shirt.
Grabbing two socks, I tie them together and hang them in the window.
***
It’s 12:30. She’ll be here soon.
We’re sitting on the couch watching no-TV TV. I mute the sound since I can’t understand the language anyway. Water boils in the kitchen for tea or for whatever else I may need it for.
Someone is fumbling with a key and the doorknob turns.
“Shhhh……Zack,” I instruct holding my finger to my lips.
Viktoria peeks around the door, like a furtive fox peeking around a tree.
Spotting us on the couch, her jaw drops in bewilderment.
I smile and wave her in, putting Zack on the floor with his toys. I walk toward her, looking at her square in the eyes.
“What’s so important!” she spits.
“We need food and supplies. It’s hard to exist with what little we have. Natasha and I didn’t talk about that problem the last time we saw her. Will you mention it to Ivan or Natasha that we are running low on supplies now?” I ask. “Know Dad would want that.”
“Yes, of course. Now, I must go.”
“One last thing, I’m heartbroken after reading your note about Ethan. Is there any hope?” I whine.
“No, I do not believe so,” I notice her eyes meet mine briefly.
“Are you sure about the information?”
“Yes, again, of course,” she answers, her voice thick with irritation.
Now, she’s looking through me.
“Why do you think Natasha would disconnect the phone? It’s not like we can use it anyway.”
“She is very strange now. Who knows?”
Her arms cross over her chest as the boiling water in the kitchen calls to me.
With a quick glance over my shoulder at Zack, I walk to the stove.
Hmmmm… She’s lying and she’s nervous.
“Would you like some tea?” I offer as I gaze at her, teapot in hand.
“No, thank you.”
That’s when I see it—the glint of worry in her eyes.
***
It’s early evening, when loud rustling at the door alerts me to Natasha’s presence.
“It me, Natasha. Please open door,” she asks as she energetically pounds at the door with her fist.
Zack sits propped up in my lap enjoying his bottle at the kitchen table. Rising slowly from the chair, I re-position him over my shoulder, replacing the bottle with the always nearby binky.
Sweeping into the room, Natasha carries two sacks of groceries.
Okay, now, I may get somewhere.
“Viktoria call me and say you need more supplies now.”
“I forgot to mention that earlier. Glad to have the supplies. Thank you.”
With a smile, Natasha walks quickly to the kitchen and begins to unpack the bags near the drain board.
Standing at the sink, I hoist Zack on my hip while leaning back against the counter.
No crying, the energy is good.
“I need to check when phone be fixed. It taking much time. Then, you can call me and let me know that you need something.”
What! It is Viktoria! She’s lying like I thought.
My jaw drops as my knees buckle. And another heavy weight locks into place on my shoulders.
I must rely on two liars for help with Ethan. And I must rely on two liars to return safely to the States. Why would Viktoria lie to me? What can she possibly want—ransom? How can she disconnect the phone?
Zack cries and the energy is now different. Natasha stares at me, her face frozen in shock.
She knows…She knows that I suspect her of being the reason…
“Why do you think I do something like this?” She hisses, her fists balling at her sides in anger.
“Zack, you need to go to bed for a few minutes while Mommy talks to Natasha. Ok? I’ll come to get you soon.”
I kiss him on the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck, dousing it with tears. As I walk to the bedroom, I grab his red and white toy on the way.
When I lean over the bed, his arms grip more tightly around my neck. Scratching his back and rocking him gently before I put him on the bed with his toy, I smile and kiss each little finger on his hands.
“I love you, Zack. Be back to get you soon.”
Walking backward and waving good-bye, I exit the room, holding my breath in fear that he’ll begin crying.
“You know… I’ve been locked in this apartment for days at a time—separated from Ethan, worrying about Ethan. I don’t know what to think,” I say, squaring my shoulders and studying her with a murderous stare.
Truthfully, I think Viktoria bribed someone to disconnect the phone and told you there was a problem with the line. If someone can buy a college degree, someone can bribe a phone company employee. It seems reasonable that you’d give her the number for communication purposes with us. After all, she is the translator.
“Just wondering… Does Viktoria have the apartment phone number?”
“Da, yes, of course,” she answers evenly. Her eyes bifocal in size as she comes to the same realization that I do—Viktoria has a hidden motive.
Nervously, she grabs her coat and gloves, heading for the door.
“I must consider this and talk to you tomorrow.”
She’s upset that she’s made a mistake in hiring a translator. She’s upset that everything just became more dangerous in Moscow, already one of the most dangerous cities in the world.
“Wait! Is there any news about Ethan?” I plead.
“Yes, the investigator found the tape. He make copies and send to the US Embassy to secure Ethan’s release. We hope he free in a few days.”
“It’s the best—the best of news!” I shout like a giddy grand prize-winner in a sweepstakes.
“Before I go, your Dad and Sergei need me. You still need me to complete final work before you leave. If Viktoria wants to do something bad, it’s not guilt on me. I check with some people and let you know about the phone,” she adds anxiously.
My thoughts, once scattered, now flying in formation like ducks traveling to a different location to roost.
The phone is not a worry now. Intent is the only worry. The phone can’t help me if there’s a sudden problem. What exactly does she want? How do I protect us?
***
Rummaging, looking for items for defense. My brain gears into overdrive as I assemble an arsenal. And there are no matches, no drain cleaner and no guns.
Things will happen fast once Natasha starts asking questions at the phone company.
Ah… finally, a lighter and a sharp butcher knife, in the top drawer of the kitchen next to the silverware tray. I snatch it vowing to carry it close at all times.
Next, I search the bathroom. I hit the jackpot! I find pills, a bottle of alcohol, bleach, a few razor blades and a can of hair spray. I grab the razor blades, bleach, hair spray and alcohol.
Now, I just need a plan—several of them.
38. WAR
I lie perfectly still, still peeking, until I hear the front door lock.
What the fuck! Is it him? I didn’t think things could get worse! He knows about Ethan’s release. He knows Ethan’s first stop—us.
I navigate slowly, with weapons in hand, to the light switch. Flipping it on, I glance around the kitchen and living room.
No Ponytail. Nothing disturbed.
I check my defensive stash, grabbing a roll of toilet paper and a towel along the way. Going into the kitchen,
I start a pan of tea, tying the towel around a chair and placing the toilet paper roll in the middle of the table.
I sit at the table and massage my forehead with both hands. Tears form and vanish just as quickly—no time, no energy for that.
He’s out for revenge obviously because we humiliated him in front of his gang.
Jail and prison not enough to pacify him! He can find out about Ethan by using the prison system, through a bribed guard, a prisoner/friend or an imprisoned family member.
But how did he find me and Zack?
Maybe, Viktoria is helping him…
My tears gain traction this time as I consider Zack’s fate as a twice-orphaned child, if he isn’t killed.
What stopped him from destroying our adoption in the first place? Above all, why didn’t he strike this morning? Is he waiting for Ethan to arrive?
***
Zack sits in my lap as I feed him an early dinner. Since we played all afternoon, he’s ready to eat. The Kefir nauseates me as I watch him slurp it down in bottle form. The television makes silent pictures in the living room. Ever on the alert now, I think about where I’d hide him. No place and no one come to mind—not Natasha, not Ivan and not Viktoria. There is no choice. I must do this alone. I can’t count on Natasha to stop by today. But if she does, maybe, she can take him to a church until I deal with this.
As I carry him from the kitchen to the living room, burping him once then twice. I hear the shuffling of feet at the front door. In a split second, I kiss Zack and put him down in his pillow-fenced space in the bedroom, placing the binky in his mouth. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I see a book sitting next to him for extra company. Racing across the room, I pause at the doorway and turn to blow him a kiss. Pointing to my eye, then my heart and then him, I tell him for the millionth time in our shared language that I love him.
After flying to the front door, I listen. I wait and hope to hear the rustle of Natasha’ mink coat.
Nothing!
Then, the heavy thud of boots sends a fiery stripe of hate down my spine. Snatching my tools, I stuff them in my pockets, pull the entry table closer toward me and begin to push the couch across the wall to block the door. When the couch bumps the table, I catch my breath, not wanting to give away any advantage of surprise. The lamp wobbles and stands, the wads of toilet paper lying discarded next to it. My breath returns sharply as the hate spills into my brain like a levee breached. My heart ticks like an over wound clock, the sound too loud and too fast.
Beautiful Evil Winter Page 16
