To Sing Frogs Chapter

Chapter 30

 

Rollercoaster

 

  Celeste was having too much fun smearing chicken strips in barbecue sauce to pay attention to the screen. Amy had asked me to get Hard Rock Café Moscow shirts for the boys if I had time. Time was one thing I had plenty of. Besides, when an international trip has dragged on too long, the Hard Rock is always a good place to take the edge off homesickness. It was hard to believe Saturday would mark only a month since I had been home. It seemed like ages.

We saw plenty of American rock memorabilia hanging from the walls. There was David Lee Roth’s acoustic twelve-string, Ozzy Osborne’s blue sequin jumpsuit from earlier years, and one of Elton John’s outfits decorated with mirrors. We sat near a framed page from a school notebook that belonged to Buddy Holly. His name was doodled on it. Everyone should have a childhood.

The shirts with electric guitars incorporated into a painting of St Basils sat in the bag next to me while I watched the video. No one gets after an acoustic steel string like John Rzeznik. “I think about you all the time, but I don’t need the same,” he sang. I could relate. I raised my glass and tapped it against my daughter’s. She thought it was fun even though she didn’t get it. “To Yellow Monarch Butterflies.”

We exited the restaurant onto Arbat Street for more shopping. I perused the street kiosks and bought an Arctic Fox fur hat for Amy. Celeste got plastic sunglasses. We were in the district of Tolstoy’s former residence. How apt. My stay in Russia had been nearly as lengthy as an unabridged copy of War and Peace.

The famous street of Arbat—like so many others in the area—had at one time been reduced to ashes. So it was with much of the city due to the Russian scorched earth policy. The People put a torch to their own lands and buildings as they retreated for Napoleon’s visit. Three fourths of Moscow went up in flames. I guess the sites were all worth seeing, but it would have meant more to Amy than it did to me. Mostly Celeste and I wandered in and out of tourist shops and killed the useless day after V-day.

 

 

“Are you and Celeste going to Red Square today?” It was Wednesday morning and Julia was calling to check in.

“Probably tomorrow. According to the girls in the lobby, they’re still cleaning up. We could get onto the square and shoot some pictures but there’s still no access to the sites.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to be here that long.”

“What are you talking about?”

Julia was excited. Her voice raised a few decibels and at least an octave while she gave me the news. Stass and Anya were at the passport office first thing that morning marking seven hours earlier on their clocks from ours. Stass got the office to process the passport while they waited. He and Anya went straight to the airport and Stass paid the pilot of the commercial flight leaving for Moscow to hand carry the document. “I’ll pick it up at the airport this afternoon!” Julia blurted.

“So we could conceivable get out on Friday!”

“Wait. There’s more.” She paused to catch her breath. “I called the U.S. embassy and the guy remembered you. You know, the guy with the young face? Anyway, he felt sorry for you and said even though they usually only do adoptions in the afternoon they’ll make an exception. You have an appointment for as soon as they open at ten.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No! And you don’t know how big this is! There’s always a line of about a hundred people waiting to get into the embassy as soon as they open. The guy put you on a list of two or three people who can bypass the line. AND… I have checked the flights for tomorrow. You can still make one after your appointment at the embassy. You and Celeste can go home tomorrow! I’ll leave my apartment right now. I can be at your hotel in an hour and a half to help you change your tickets at the Aeroflot office.”

I sat down on the chair at the desk, stunned.

“John? Are you still there? John?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m still here. It’s just a big surprise. Wow.”

“Good. I’ll see you in ninety minutes.”

I could change the tickets myself. There was no reason for Julia to waste a day. It took three minutes to convince her. It took three hours to change the flights.

 

Go to other sections of To Sing Frogs

Go to John M. Simmons’ blog