To Sing Frogs Chapter 42d

“Ah-deen, Dos, Three!” The three girls held hands and leaped from the brown and light red sandstone into the sparkling blue water of the pool. Ah-deen, Dos, Three! One, Two, Three! in Russian, Spanish, and English, respectively. It would become the theme to our reunion. “Ah-deen, Dos, Three!” preceded each flash of the camera. It foreshadowed a splash into the pool. It described our girls. Formerly they were so much “one and the same.” Now they were unarguably Russian, Spanish, and American. Tall, medium, and short. Well grounded, unsure, and struggling. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green eyes. Unconditionally forgiving, tolerant, hostile in remembering the land of her birth. Sisters for a time. Friends for life.

The weather was hot so the girls’ favorite place was the pool. The water brought coolness and tranquility to accent the bright Mediterranean sun. We adults loved sipping drinks under a canopy surrounded by palm trees, emerald vegetation, and flowers of every color. The girls jumped, swam, and splashed while we watched the lack of a common language crumble in its attempt to create barriers. Marina, Julia, and Sarah spoke an international language consisting of pointing, gestures, smiles, eye rolls, screams, squeals, and a list too long to record of feelings communicated with their eyes.

Mid-twenties Anya and Yana loved lying out, sunning themselves by the pool in their bikinis. It must have been quite a treat for a twenty-one year old guy preparing to come off a two-year fast.

The ladies took over for lunch. Yana and Anya taught Josephina and Amy how to make pelmeni—Russian ravioli—the favorite food of every kid from that country. Soon the girls were neck deep in pasta dough with white flour covering their arms, clothes, and faces. The secret was adding bay leaves to the boiling water. I guess that’s why the ones we made before had never tasted quite right.

When Sarah came home from Russia, Mike immediately began teaching her to swing dance to the big bands. They continued practicing together for almost three years until he left. After lunch Amy produced their favorite dance songs on her iPod and asked Mike to see if Sarah still remembered. Within minutes they were strutting, sliding, swinging, slinging, and flipping each other to the sounds of In the Mood, Sing Sing Sing, and Big Noise From Winnetka, performed by Swingfield Big Band.

Julia wanted to try so her American big brother Mike taught her a few basic moves. Marina was next. Within minutes she was keeping up with Sarah. That girl seemed to be a natural at everything. Anya wanted her turn after. “Sorry,” Mike told her. “I still have to keep the rules from my mission. I can’t dance with you.”

Mission rules included a ban on swimming so Mike sat around with me, out of the water. “Come on!” The little girls screamed in three different languages (two of which he understood). “Come swimming!”

“It’s a stupid rule!” Yana and Anya taunted. “Get in the water.”

Mike ignored them. He wasn’t above getting next to the edge, though; especially when it involved tossing one of the girls into the pool. “Daddy, will you throw me in the pool again?” Sarah asked as Mike and I sat in the sun.

“Okay, but we’re going to throw you way out there this time.”

Sarah giggled as I grabbed her hand and walked her to the edge of the pool. I took her hands and her big brother grabbed her feet.

“Ah-deen, Dos, Three!” Sarah flew out over the water, screaming. Then there was a flash next to me and Mike exploded off the edge, tangled in two bikinis. Poor kid (yeah, right).

He came up fully clothed and thoroughly soaked, spitting, and gasping for air. Anya and Yana were laughing hysterically. My son didn’t say a word or even acknowledge the joke. He climbed out of the pool and walked away from the area while Yana and Anya looked at each other, baffled.

That was harsh. Lighten up, kid. You’re not Saint Peter. I was shocked that my son had caused our Russian friends to feel so uneasy. I decided I needed to go and talk to him. As always, I thought a little exaggeration might help him to see how stupid he was acting. They say it’s not a sin if you don’t take pleasure in it. Yeah, that’s what I’d say.

The two beautiful women had moved back into the chairs to sun themselves. It was an excuse to not talk about the awkward situation. As I approached the wooden gate to leave the pool area another flash burst past me dragging a long green tail. Cold water shot from the end of the garden hose and sprayed two bikinis relentlessly. The young women were shocked. Eyes flew open and their bodies exploded from the chairs as screams filled the air. Mike quickly ran away laughing and turned off the spigot.

“He was joking?” Anya gasped while holding out her arms and dripping. Yana and I laughed.

All was well.