It was barely nine o’clock the very next morning, eager as she was to see if he really existed, or if the charm was half her consumption of the shampanskoye the night before, when she knocked on his hotel door a couple of times, short raps, not too quiet, not too loud. And nothing happened. She knocked again just a bit louder, and her heart jumped as she heard thumping and what must have been Russian cursing making it’s way to the door. His groggy face appeared, with tousled hair, obviously astonished at her early appearance.
She smiled through the opening to the hotel room door, saying, “Dobrey ootra” (good morning), then, “Coffee?”, making a little universal drinking-coffee hand gesture.
“Da, da, da,” he replied with gusto, and pointing to his broad, bare chest, clearly embarrassed, he said, “one moment” and promptly closed the door on her. So she stood there in the hall thinking, “Linda, girl, what in the world are you doing?” But thankfully, before the thoughts took their path, he reappeared, properly dressed, with his wayward curly brown hair partially tamed.
Gallantly he took her arm, saying in his heavily-accented English, “Ledz go!”
So making their way down to sit at the counter in the lobby bar, her knees were trembling slightly and she was glad for his strong arm in hers. When they sat at the marble counter, and as she contemplated the craftsmanship of the creator of that amazing gold-gilded samovar, he ordered, in brisk Russian, two coffees and two pastries. Soon they were smiling at each other happily, testing the limited extent of each one’s foreign language skills with small talk. Then, as they sipped the strong and very sweet coffee, Vitaly explained, in his limited English, his concept of God and the Universe.
She was stunned, as it was yet before noon, but already he was being gorgeous... and deep!
So, she soon decided she would need Dimitry, who was Vitaly’s friend from the day before that she’d met as a translator from her first trip. He would surely be needed should she and Vitaly get further on with this. Perhaps urgently needed. Would there be fruit?
Well, as it happened, Vitaly had already arranged for the translation situation to be addressed. Dima soon met the couple at the hotel in his tiny beat up Soviet era Lada, with a wide smile on his face.He greeted Linda as usual, the warmth of an European kiss on each cheek, then she then watched the two men confer for several minutes as the morning light streamed through the lobby doors and windows, reflecting all around her.
They then, jointly, in English and Russian translation thereto, announced their newly-devised plan: a special sightseeing tour just for her.
So out they walked. Surrounding the hotel was the most beautiful of sunny days, with puffy white clouds and a perfect view of the uncannily ocean-like Black Sea. But for the lack of big waves, it really is as vast as an ocean when viewed from the shore. Yalta, is known as a tourist destination mostly because of sandy beaches and mild weather, and has been a prize for centuries. Or a prostitute, bought and sold to the highest bidder or most committed aggressor.
But hanging out at the beach wasn’t the plan.
The three took off in the creaking, old, basically dirt-colored car. They were zooming erratically up a curvy hillside road, with Linda in the back seat hanging on to the door handle and breathing deeply to calm herself against the dizzy feeling. She was moving to the edge of panic thinking, “was I crazy to leave the hotel and the safety of my official status, possibly winding up where no one would have a chance of knowing where I could be found? Just crazy for deviating from the official itinerary on an adventure with a couple of handsome young Russian men!?”
Yes, she answered herself. She must be crazy indeed.
The seriously harrowing ride, up the serpentine pot-holed roads out of town to the hills of the pine forest crowning Yalta’s rocky perch above the sparkling Black Sea, was finally over. It seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere, but there was a sign in Cyrillic, which frankly gave her no clue at all, there at the head of a dirt road leading into the forest. So, she thought, well at least they’re somewhere, sort of.
Dima pulled in, the both of them keeping the destination a mystery. Then, driving a short way, and stopping near a dirt trail that lead into a grove of huge, ancient pine trees, she found herself nervous, excited, and a wee bit scared. All at the same time, and she worried she might bread into a sweat. What if she was murdered and left in the deep forest? Never to be found?
Her mind spun itself a web of these crazed thoughts.
But the guys were laughing and the day was sunny and adventure was ahead. Getting out of the car and walking down the trail with Vitaly holding her hand was making her giddy. Dima led the way to their still unknown destination. And perhaps she should have been terrified in this strange country with two foreign men she barely knew, walking around in the depths of an ancient forest, but somehow with Vitaly holding her hand she felt safe and secure. It was uncanny.
Then at that moment, just ahead, she saw the cutest thing ever. Carved into a grand old pine tree was a large grinning bear and a little girl with a basket! “Astounding!”, she thought. “It’s a fairy tale forest” Dima explained, “Is one of most favorite places in Yalta, but tourists, ah!, they never come!”
As the group strolled from carved tree to carved tree, Linda, totally smitten with the both of them, was fascinated as Dima gave her Vitaly’s explanation of this magical forest, and why it was here. He described it as a collectively-created representation of the pantheon of Russian fairy tales. She replied by way of Dima, “They are a lot like many of our own fairy tales, I see” venturing her take on it and looking to the two men.
Vitaly, again via Dima, explained in his very confident and most arrogant way, “That’s because our Russian fairy tales are much, much older than your American ones, and you should know that all of yours are based on our old Russian tales!”
It was becoming a pattern, a their usual patter, a kind of running gag between them, the occasional banter about which country was better. She laughed good-naturedly. Though sometimes heated, these arguments would become a persistent feature of their relationship. Arguments about how American culture, and indeed the whole world’s cultural goods, originated in Russia. The World According to Vitaly.
Moments later they found a nice spot to rest, and picnicked on rich slices of black, dark rye bread and tasty sour pickles while they sipped on the again, ubiquitous vodka, which Dima had most thoughtfully supplied. In all, it was simply a perfect fall day, the three just wandering around the enchanted forest trails. As the vodka bottles were depleted on their walk about the forest, she marveled in delight as the “boys”, one might say, “boisterously”, but more like comically, played like children, jumping on rocks, creating little competitions between themselves. So she watched them both with equal attention, but, ultimately, it was Vitaly’s charm, and those cornflower-blue eyes, that had worked their way, like darts to the bullseye, into her heart.
Much too soon, it was time for them to make the mad dash back to the hotel, and then to the airport for Vitaly’s flight back to his home to Moscow. So, reluctantly, the group made their way back to the beat up old clunker that had brought them to this magical place on such a beautiful morning. The ride back was even more terrifying, as of course, everyone had been drinking. At the same time, she didn’t care so much, having had her her share as well.
+++___+++
On the way, she realized she might never see him again. With irresistible impulse, she insisted that Dima stop, for just moment, on the side of the road. Wanting with sudden desperation to work out when, and how, she and Vitaly might see one other again. Dima faithfully assisted with translation as she said, “in three days my group will be in Moscow”.
Suddenly, his eyes brightened with realization of an unconsidered opportunity for something more with this lovely, young, and obviously adventurous, woman. And so there on the side of the road they made plans to meet in front of the famous National Hotel, this landmark of opulence near The Kremlin. It would be hosting her tour group’s Farewell Banquet. They could meet there just afterward.
Vitaly nodded enthusiastically that he understood, and with a gentlemanly gesture opened the car door, assisting her out, and so giving the two some privacy from translator and driver Dmitry. He firmly and confidently placed his hands on her cheeks as their eyes met. His lips, luscious lips, found hers. First tentative, but then moving into a long, and most intensely passionate kiss. A kiss that changed both their worlds forever.
On that random rural road, on a grassy spot a world away in Russia.
The rest of the trip they held hands in the backseat, as Dima played chauffeur to them. All were quiet for the rest of the ride. As she blew him a kiss, waving goodbye, him about to enter the terminal, she thought, “this is gonna be a very big problem”.
. . . ===== ....
Problem indeed, because Linda was, still, in fact, married, and this for some nine years to date. Her husband Charles had elected not to accompany her on this trip to Russia, though he’d done so the first time she was there. On the one hand, she was thrilled to be on her own after so many years, but. It would be nice if he took some interest and put some time and effort into the things that sustained her. So this time he stayed in Santa Barbara with his business and was very clear to her that he didn’t need, nor want, to be a part of the Sister City delegation again. Very clear.
But still, she felt a tinge of guilt coming.