chapter 8 - partytime

Still no snow. Will I never get my troika ride?

Babby came with me for my walk today. We walked slowly past the Goodwill Games Sport Stadium and a pretty little convent, its gold tiled spires in the now familiar onion shape dazzling in the grey light.

“Thank you dear,” Babby said suddenly.

“Thank you for what?”

”For bringing me here. I know how busy you are, and how tiring it must be to travel with an old lady.”

“Oh Babby, believe me, it has been no trouble. I’ve loved being here with you, meeting your family, finding out more about your history. It’s context for me. I think this was absolutely the right thing for me to do at this time in my life. After all…. ”

“After all, I won’t be here much longer?”

“That was not what I was going to say! I was going to say, after all, I am the one with the least commitment to family or other people, and the one with the most travel experience.” I wanted to say more, about how I treasure her friendship, her enthusiasm, her easy way with showing affection, but I couldn’t make it sound the way I wanted. I can never make it sound the way I want.

After walking in silence awhile Babby turned to me. “Tomorrow you must phone your Mother.”

“Oh yes I suppose I must confirm what flight you’ll be on when we part in London.”

“That’s not quite what I meant dear. I think you need to talk to her about other things. And I know she needs to talk to you. She’s wanted to for a long time now. You are both needing each other. And if you wait until you go back to your home it won’t happen.”

I said nothing but walked head down, kicking bits of gravel, feeling like a child. We returned along the Komsomolsky Prospect passing the enormous insulated pipes that carry Moscow’s water. I took a deep breath before reentering the apartment to help with preparations for our last night. Auntie Galina has pulled out all the stops; tons of food, decorations, even hired entertainment. By 8pm a legion of people had arrived, none of whom Babby knew so I could see this would be an exhausting time for her, despite her protestations of loving it. I made her sit down at every opportunity, and tried to do the same with the pregnant and stressed out Svetlana. Auntie Galina the cyclone wore down even Arkady. He looked wild eyed and concerned every time someone’s glass was even partially low in case Auntie Galina would see it and growl. The only calm ones were Vasily and the dog, who both blissfully slept through it all. Either these people don’t entertain enough or they entertain too much.

After two hours, everyone left and the evening really began.

“So and so didn’t touch my blinis.”

“Do you think so and so liked it better than the last party at so and so's?”

“Did so and so even try the cake?”

“I hope so and so didn’t notice the decorations were the same ones used at the summer party.“

“Our entertainment was ever so much more professional than that pathetic magician at so and so’s party in September.”

“Did you see that dress so and so was wearing? It’s so unfashionable. And unflattering now that she’s gained all that weight.”

“And she needs to colour her hair. She looks fifty.”

“Fifty! She must be fifty-five if a day!”

Etc. etc.