Sveta turned over, exposing a long white arm. For a moment it groped over his absence, then lay still. Pasha stumbled out of his pants and inserted himself under the arm, into the hotel-linen envelope, a welcome constraint. He couldn’t move his toes and didn’t want to. Getting a bit of rest wasn’t a bad idea. In a day’s time, they would be relocating to Tskaltubo, where the radon mineral springs were known to alleviate a variety of nervous ailments and circulatory conditions and the caves were touted as especially restorative for pulmonary diseases, which just might need relieving after the planned excursions to the famous dinosaur footprint and the private pool where Stalin had bathed. Pasha sighed. He was contented. And at the same time terrified, frightened, depressed. But that’s enough about him. How about—
Frida couldn’t make out the rest. The connection was wavering, Pasha fading out. Reception in rural Georgia wasn’t so miraculous after all.
Me? she said. I’m fine. Actually, I’ve been doing some thinking. I’m probably going to stay awhile.
After a bout of static, Pasha screamed out, I said—how about my cats?
Your what? yelled Frida.
Cats, my cats! I trust you haven’t forgotten about my cats.
She gulped. Of course not, she said. But I’ve got some news about your son. There’s been a development in the drama. The wedding, it’s back on. Talk about last-minute—and I thought I had trouble making up my mind! A conspiratorial tone had snuck into her voice. Aside from wanting to give Pasha the update and being glad to be the one to do it, as if her ability to provide information hot off the presses proved her worth and demonstrated how deep she’d wedged herself into their lives, she also hoped to bond with him over Sanya’s fickle ways. Surely Pasha wouldn’t approve of such volatile behavior.
That’s Sanya for you, exclaimed Pasha.
It is, she said warily.
Pausing for a second, he said, Well then. I’ll catch a plane out tonight.
A wave of panic shook her. Had a giant misunderstanding just occurred, and was she at the root of it? The wedding isn’t until Sunday! she practically screamed. Sanya’s not even in town! And don’t forget, Sveta’s family is occupying your bedroom.
Not a problem, said Pasha.
But—what about the festival?
The festival is fine, it’s great, but I’m ready to pack it in, to be honest. I’ve been feeling under the weather, and besides, don’t they say it’s good to know how to make an exit?
Panic in a Suitcase: A Novel Page 27
