Say it in Russian

by Kenneth Eade

  “That's sipping. Don't sip it. Drink it like a man.” Andrew slams his vodka, and tries to contain himself as he swallows the rest of it in a single gulp. It reminds him of the first time he tried a cigarette. He puts down his glass, and Raf fills it immediately with more vodka. He hands him a pickle.

  “Here try this, it'll help.” Andrew takes the pickle and bites into it.

  “Just drink! A lot of pine will fall on your age humble. Coincidence of stars will often nations tumble; When we shall die, they'll use our dust for building blocks, And one will build from them a palace, white as marble.” Raf pours more for both of them. And pours, and pours, and pours. The toasts get more and more elaborate. Andrew was catching on.

  Both his glass and Andrew's are empty.

  “Andrew?”

  “What?”

  “Why is your glass empty?” Raf fumbles for a bottle, it’s empty. He gets up and staggers toward the bar, looking for another bottle of vodka.

  “In three days, I'll be a married man (laughing) again....” He reaches for the bottle, realizes that it’s empty. Raf pulls the head off a decanter on the bar. From the refrigerator he withdraws a bottle of beer. He pours a healthy shot of whisky into a large glass. “Look, do you see this?”

  “See what?”

  “The whiskey is the boat. Do you see the boat?” He pours the beer into the glass on top of the whiskey.

  “The beer is the ocean.” Andrew strains his eyes to look. The whiskey has risen to the surface of the beer, like a drop of oil surrounded by water. Raf pours himself a triple shot of whiskey.

  “You see how the boat floats on the ocean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now drink.”

  “But I already had the last drink.”

  “Nonsense. This is the last drink.” Andrew picks up the glass, as does Raf. They clink glasses and drink.

  “Natalia is on her way home from Paris. How do I ever explain all this to her?”

  “Do you really have to explain it?” Raf pours Andrew more whisky and beer, and pours a tall glass of whisky for himself. Andrew is stinking drunk.

  “Andrew, do you respect me?”

  “Of course.”

  “No, no, do you respect me? I mean, tell me with full honesty, do…you.. respect...me?”

  “I respect you.”

  “Uh huh. Then you will accept my challenge.” Raf clears the table of glass, bottle and excess liquid with a wave of his arm, and props his elbow on it, challenging Andrew to arm wrestle.

  “What this? No.”

  “You think I can't beat you?”

  “No... That’s not it...”

  “You think I can't beat you? That's it. You think I can't beat you. Let's go. Nobody has beat me in years...” Andrew puts his arm up, rising to the challenge. The two men lock wrists. Raf pushes hard, concealing his effort. Andrew pushes back. Raf looks Andrew in the eye. Andrew returns Raf's look. Raf starts to strain. You can see it in his face. Andrew's face is unchanged. Andrew slowly pushes Raf's arm down. Raf puts his entire strength into the opposition. Raf pumps last conserved push of energy. It moves Andrews arm a little, but Andrew comes back hard, pushing Raf's arm down. The impact breaks the table. Both Andrew and Raf look at the broken table for a second, trying to figure out what happened as they get their senses back.

  Raf rubs his arm, “That wasn't a good table.” He looks around for another table in the study, and motions to Andrew.

  “No, no, Raf.”

  ‘Come on, don't be afraid. We have to finish this.”

  “Finish this...” They both stumble to the new table, plant their elbows on it, and lock wrists. Raf aggressively pushes against Andrew's arm. Andrew fights back, putting Raf down and breaking the second table into pieces, both Raf and Andrew hitting the ground. They stay there for a while, sitting up and looking dazed. “That wasn't a good one, either.” They both look at each other a moment stupidly, then burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Raf rises from the ground, still laughing, and grabs a shotgun from the gun cabinet, and the bottle of whisky.

  “Pashli.” Andrew follows Raf out the door. Raf drags the shotgun as he takes a gulp of whiskey and sings, “Oy, moroz, moroz...” (Oh Frost, Frost). “Come on, sing! Sing! Oy moroz, moroz...”

  “Oy moroz, moroz.,” Andrew repeats.

  “Ne moroz menya.” (Don't freeze me.)

  “Ne moroz menya,” sings Andrew, in his best Russian.

  “Good,” says Raf. “Ne moroz menya, Moyevo konya. ”(Don’t freeze me, or my horse; or my horse, my white mane horse.)

  “Hah!”

  “Moyevo konya, Belegrevogo.”

  “Hah!”

  Raf takes a gulp and continues, “Moyevo konya, belorevogo, Oo menya zhena, ah, revnivaya.” (My horse, my white-mane horse; I have a wife, Oh, she's very jealous.) Raf points the gun into the air, preparing to fire. Andrew holds the gun with Raf, who keeps on singing, with Andrew chiming in with grunts and groans where appropriate.

  “Oo menya zhena, Oh krasavitza; Zhdet menya domoi, Zhdet pechalitza.” (I have a wife: Oh, she's a beautiful woman. She waits for me at home, She waits, grieving for me.) They fire the gun. The deafening sound echoes through the night air as the smoke seeps from the barrel. They stand there in the cold white snow with the dark blue sky over them, with the piercing stars and smoke the gun. Neighborhood dogs bark. They look at each other, gaining some of their senses back.

  “That was loud,” says Andrew.

  “Do you think we woke her up?”

  “I don't know. We'd better check.” They go back in the house.

  Andrew and Raf drunkenly stumble through the front door. Victor appears at the door, startling Raf and Andrew, and Raf hands him the gun, as if it's an everyday occurrence. Andrew and Raf approach the hallway to Daria's room. They tiptoe quietly to Daria's bedroom door. The floor creaks under Andrew's feet. Raf turns back, makes the shh! motion to Andrew with his finger. The floor creaks under Raf's feet.

  “Be quiet! You should walk like that...” Andrew walks exaggeratedly on his toes, like a gay ballerina. Raf opens the door a crack to Daria's room, peering in. They fall through the doorway into Daria's room, and mastering all their abilities, contain themselves. Raf and Andrew stand there like two mischievous children, looking at her with immense love and care. Daria is sleeping peacefully in her bed.

  CHAPTER 29

  The day is turning. Outside the cheerful church, the street is deserted, left to the gently blowing breeze. In the background, the massive silhouette of the Kremlin and Red Square are plainly visible. Slowly fading in, the echo of a church bell ringing throughout the streets.

  Raf enters the dressing room, partially dressed in his tuxedo, and fiddling with his cuff links, jacket over his arm, tie in disarray. Daria is dressing for the wedding and fixing her hair in the mirror. Raf admires her.

  “Isn't it the BRIDE who is supposed to be the most beautiful on her wedding day,” he says.

  “How's Natalia?”

  “She's getting dressed. She won't let me see her.” Raf tries to fasten his cuff links, without success.

  “Come here.” Raf approaches Daria. She fastens his cuff links and straightens his tie.

  “Do I look too old?”

  “No, what are you worried about?”

  “Me? Nothing.”

  “I hope you're happy this time, papa.”

  “Daria, when they took you last week, I.....”

  “Papa...” Daria holds him, comforting.

  “I remember when you were just a little girl. God it was like yesterday...I was getting ready for work and you were getting ready for school, and I looked at you and said...”

  “You said, "Why don't we skip school today..."

  “Yes, and we rented that boat. You always wanted to ride in that boat.”

  “I always wanted to ride in that lake with the big fountain in the middle.”

  “That pond. With a tiny fountain in the middle.”

  “But
it looked like a lake to me.”

  “Yeah, that fountain got us completely wet.”

  “I didn't know you didn't know how to control that boat.” They laugh.

  “We just couldn't get away from that fountain, and as our boat was filling up with water...”

  “Everybody was laughing at us, and the security came to pull us out. I laughed so much, especially when we walked back through the park soaking wet. You were my hero. Like a God to me.” There is a pause and silence. He strains to fight the tears, but they come anyway.

  “Daria, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I never would be able to live this life over and have my little girl back, but please forgive me.” She puts her hand to his mouth and puts her arms around his neck.

  “Papa, ti samiy, samiy luchya na sveter.” (Papa, you're the best, the best in the world.)

  CHAPTER 30

  The Priest babbles and chants at the altar of the Golden Cathedral. Raf and Natalia, stand facing each other as the Priest reads the Holy Sacrament of Marriage. Friends and family, Andrew and Daria among them, stand and watch. The wives and mothers, fathers, children who have been life-long family friends. There are hard faces -- working class faces -- but we sense a fortitude among the congregation. We also see the new friends, the nouveau riche, in their mismatched designer clothes, sweating sparkling jewelry, and managing several cell phones apiece.

  Andrew glances down and catches Daria's eye and they hold each other in the intervening space. The priest turns to the bride and groom. “For everyone that does evil hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his deeds will be reproved.” The priest performs the customary orthodox rituals, the crowning of Raf first, then Natalia-- places the crowns above their heads in order, then looks out across the assembled congregation. “The servant of God, Raf is crowned for the servant of God, Victoria, in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” Guiding the couple by their joined hands, the priest leads Raf and Victoria around in a circle. The movement is very precise, very formal, a circling to represent eternity. The Priest finishes the ceremony. Raf looks at Natalia, lifts the veil and they kiss.

  CHAPTER 31

  The doors of the church burst open, Raf and Natalia exiting, glowing with love and affection. Natalia holds her dog in her arms. The crowd starts to pile out after them.

  “Let's get into the car, Natashka.” Raf drags her by the hand to the waiting limousine. Other guests get into their cars.

  “Daria, Andrew. Come with us.”

  “No, papa, it’s so beautiful outside. I think we'll walk awhile.” Raf tucks Daria's coat around her and buttons it up tight.

  “Pap, ya ne malinkaya deyvochka. ” (Pap, I'm not a little girl anymore.) Raf takes off his scarf and wraps it around her neck.

  “Shto ti gavarish? Ti sigda maya malinkaya doychka.” (Nonsense, you'll always be my little girl.) He kisses her on the cheek.

  “See you at the party, Papa.” Andrew and Daria start down the road as the limousine slowly pulls away.

  A black jeep comes slowly toward the limousine. Suddenly the Jeep pulls alongside the limousine. The windows of the Jeep roll down. Assault rifles protrude from the windows and blast repeatedly at Raf’s limousine, pummeling it with bullets, popping the wedding balloons and shattering the bullet proof glass. A flock of birds flutter away from the shock. Raf’s security detail exits their cars and run after the Jeep, shooting at it.

  Daria and Andrew’s heads turn to the sounds of shots. They move briskly and frantically toward the car, through the snow covered street. Daria and Andrew frantically run back to the limousine. Everything is in a fog. Petals of the flowers, Natalia's puffed up white dress, still moving from the shock. The Driver, dead. In the back seat, wedding lace smattered with blood, Natalia and Raf’s lifeless heads cocked in strange positions. Blood seeping through their clothing. They are dead. Daria and Andrew reach the car. They peer in the windows. Daria falls to her knees as Andrew catches her. Then he jumps into the back seat to try to revive them.

  CHAPTER 32

  The waves gently lap the sunset Malibu shoreline as Daria and Andrew walk along the beach. Kolya the poodle follows them, barking at the seagulls and chasing them.

  Finally, thought Andrew. Finally the ordeal was over and they could begin work on a long and happy ending. The promise of happiness fulfilled. Her in California they would live a life of love and romance. Peace and tranquility.

  Finally, thought Daria. Finally the plan was complete and she was free. Free to please herself instead of her father. Free of the stench of dirty money and the dirty people who surrounded it. There were sacrifices, yes, precious things lost. Newly found thinks. But finally it would all be clean. And she could quit taking those stupid classes and make her place in society. Beverly Hills, with its posh parties, dainty boutiques and beautiful people. No more did she answer to anyone. No more father, no more partners, no more traces.

  THE END

  EPILOGUE

  Say it in Russian was a life-based script that I made into a full length motion picture. You can see the trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QW9U4hA0YWw . A movie is a large enterprise with a lot of people involved. The movie was funded with investor’s money, using a publicly traded company and when the money run out, I used all of my money, and even mortgaged my house, like Walt Disney when he built Disneyland. I held the entire thing together, always fighting cutting corners to cut the budget, always in favor of quality. A musical score with a full orchestra, real locations in Russia and Paris. Then I took it on the road and won a dozen or so festival awards. But in the end, it didn’t turn out so well for me. As they say, you learn from your mistakes.

  I tried to act at all times as the “Guardian” of the script, but, as they also say in the film business, the movie you write is not the movie you shoot, and it’s completely different after it’s edited. This book was written with a few embellishments and I tried to put back whatever wasn’t shot and what fell on the cutting room floor. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please give it a review.