“What?” I asked, slapping myself flat against the wall as the big men moved back and forth.
“To the left,” Vitali told them, then caught a hold of my arm and dragged me back to the living room where Mama andMaxim waited, wide-eyed.
“What’s happening?” I hissed, and Vitali grinned. “New appliance,” he said, and winked at Mama, who had already turned beet red as she watched strangers shuffle around her home.
“Thesukinelevator’s broken,” Misha said, rubbing his hands together. “Lugged it all the way up six floors.”
“Mind your language,” Vitali said, “or I’ll mind it for you.”
“I’m sorry, Olga Nikolaevna.” The big man shrank under Mama’s glare. “Didn’t realize you were home.”
“And?” Vitali said.
“…And Katya.”
I glanced something large being dragged through the hallway and take an immediate turn toward the bathroom.
“They’re going to scrape the walls!” Mama gasped and hurried after them.
“I’ll get her new walls if they do,” Misha assured me.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Washing machine,” Vitali said, and this was confirmed with Mama’s gasps and wails down the hall. “I’ll have to bring a plumber in next week, it’s a bit tricky in these old buildings.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be in Tyumen?” I asked Misha, and Vitali gave me a quizzical look.
“Went, came back,” the big man said. “Babushka is in good health. Have things to do here in the city—couldn’t stay long.”
Mama was just returning when she heard that, and just like that, all five of the vicious-looking bear-sized men were forced into the finite space at the dining table which had to be pushed against the couch to fit them.
Just like the very first time Vitali had been brutally bullied into dinner, Mama made sure that her hostages couldn’t leavebefore they sampled every one of the dishes she (and she alone)‘slaved over,’ and brought out more as the crowd slowly ate their way across the expanse of the table.
Four ‘someones’ happened to have cognac on them, and two of those, beer. It was the first time I’d seen Mama drink anything but champagne. The noise level quickly got riotous, and I’d never seen her more delighted as compliments of her cooking began circling the room.
Vitali grinned, and it was genuine. He drank, but minimally. Apparently, this was the company and the occasion to indulge. We were no longer seated next to each other (the logistics of it were impossible, and even he couldn’t fight math) but made eye contact often enough to reassure me I was on his mind.
Just before midnight, Misha took the liberty of quieting everyone so we could all watch the Presidential Address, and then the Kremlin’s Spasskaya Tower clock chimed, and Mama proudly led everyone in making a silent wish for the new year.
Mine would remain a secret; I was too afraid of it not coming true.
The fireworks went off, and we popped open the French champagne. There weren’t enough crystal glasses for everyone, so Mama and I used metal cups, which was such an affront to everyone else present that they were immediately confiscated. Vitali gave me his, but didn’t fill one of his own. I only took a sip before I handed it to him, a little private celebration. Just between us, because this wasouryear.
“A walk?” he asked, as everyone began putting on their coats and loudly praising Mama for a‘night that surpassed any other New Year’s Eve’they could imagine. Truly, it would bestamped onto their hearts forever, and they’d spendthe rest of their lives chasing its match, they all insisted.
I nodded and hurried to trade my heels for something (only slightly) more practical. As I returned with a pair of heeled boots, I saw Vitali speaking to Misha, and it looked private enough that I had to listen in.
Unfortunately, the only word I caught was ‘Elit,’ which was next to useless to my curiosity, because it was just a club, and of course the big guys were going out.
The stinging cold air was a stark contrast to the stuffy apartment stuffed with men and a hundred different holiday dishes. Outside, the world expanded into something infinite, with fireworks resembling the full color spectrum of stars. People spilled out of their podyezds for the night’s real celebration to begin. Of course, they had to navigate the two Mercedes and one BMW parked without law or order across the snow-swept sidewalks.
Vitali shook each man’s hand, and then they got in and began the slow, horn-blasting crawl through the thick crowds of pedestrians. Because God is just.
He offered me his arm, and I gladly pressed myself against him as tightly as I could manage and we strolled this way toward the heart of the noise.
Lights and snow-themed ornaments decorated everything in sight, and ice statues towered over the walkways. Some were animals and some Father Frost. Large ice slides with lights trapped beneath the surface served as gathering places for the children whose parents allowed them to stay up. I guessed that Mama would eventually let that be Maxim, but our family tended to be on the stricter side, even when it came to holidays. Maybe when he turned eighteen…
Bass thumped from open windows mixing with people’s drunken songs uniting in plumes of vaporous breath. Thiswas Russia, the proud Russia Vitali and I loved. Tonight, there was no poverty, no violence, no greed. Tonight, the people drank to everyone’s prosperity. Everyone’s health. Tonight was perfect.
