To Sing Frogs Chapter 33c

The little girl released me from a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek while I continued to hold her on my arm. It was the day after Marina-Grigorievna had given me the letter of permission to visit Yula at her orphanage. She spoke rapidly in Russian while Anya waited for a chance to translate. “She’s quite excited. She’s telling you all about how Marina was adopted and that now she has a family like Sarah does.”

Then Yula became calm, almost melancholy. Anya’s translation turned from explanatory to direct as the little girl spoke quietly. “Now there is only me. I wait for my family to come.”

I slumped. “Yes, Princess. I hope they come soon.” I knew it wouldn’t happen though. It made me sick to my stomach.

Soon we were seated around a small children’s table, going through another photo album like the one I gave to Marina-Grigorievna. Yula rushed past pictures of Sarah dressed up like a princess. She ignored the ones of her friend riding on a horse. The photo of Sarah in my red Corvette went unnoticed. The last of the three best friends paused, almost unable to turn pages as she saw Sarah with her new mama and papa. She sighed while she looked at her friend with big brothers. She nodded slowly when I explained who the grandparents were. “Does Sarah’s new family love her?” came the innocently sincere question.

The lump in my throat only allowed me to whisper. “Yes, Princess. Her mama and papa, her brothers, and her sister all love her very much.” The child looked up at me and smiled satisfactorily.

“Does Sarah love her new family?”

“Yes, Sweetheart. Sarah loves her new family and she is very happy.”

“I miss her.”

“I know, Princess. She misses you too. She loves you very much and she thinks about you every day.” I didn’t tell her about the prayers. Why destroy a child’s faith in God?

We visited for just over an hour. I tried to talk about the weather, activities, things she was learning, and what she liked to eat. Yula only wanted to talk about families. She longed to hear about grandmas and grandpas and brothers and sisters. She ached to speak of mamas and papas. How do you talk about food with a starving man when you don’t have the ability to feed him?

When it was time to leave I picked her back up in my arms. She squeezed me and kissed me on the cheek. “Goodbye, Princess. I love you. I’ll come back again. I promise.” My promise was truthful but meaningless. Yula didn’t need a visit. What she needed was something I couldn’t provide.

I didn’t let her see me cry. I didn’t want her to realize the hopelessness of her situation. I couldn’t hold it any longer after the door to the playroom closed between us. Then the tears wouldn’t stop. It was all I could do to hold it together as Stass and Anya led me down the hallway of the building made from single-brick monuments.

The extreme contrasts of this strange and distant country continued to pummel me. I was overjoyed for Marina. Russian adoptions are legally sealed so I knew I’d never see her again. Still, that was the only time in my life when I felt elated to lose a friend. My heart soared for the Yellow Monarch Butterfly. My head bowed, my feet dragged, and my eyes cried for Yula.

 

 

Snowflakes the size of silver dollars filled the dark sky. They fell rapidly down from the heavens, blanketing everything in sight. Because there was no wind we could almost watch the snow get deeper on the wooden rails outside the restaurant. Christmas lights in various colors glowed underneath the new white powder. The restaurant at the Vlad Inn had experienced its barroom metamorphosis, which happened every night at about 9:00. The room was almost dark save a few dimly glowing bulbs and strands of indoor Christmas tree lights, which were mixed with garland throughout dining area. It was after 10:00 and adopting couples had gone to bed. With the heavy snowstorm no one had ventured out to drink at the restaurant. Bill and I had the place to ourselves. The chef had been happy to accommodate us and he brought out steaks sizzling on small flatiron griddles accompanied by a bottle of imported A-1 Steak Sauce.

We had found the three other girls in two different orphanages the day before. It appeared as though we would only be partially successful in reuniting the remaining siblings. That combined with seeing Yula and learning about Marina left me with far more to think about than to discuss. The cast iron was now cold and the meat, silent, though the smoky and vinegary smell of grilled beef and steak sauce lingered. Bill and I went between picking at the remainders of our late dinner and poignant conversation.

“So you think you can get the others?” Bill asked.

 

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