To Sing Frogs Chapter 16b

Me holding Katya while Anya reads her the soft book, one last time before we leave.

The children were in the playroom sitting on the floor and singing a song while doing hand gestures. I was numb. Katya rushed to us for hugs and kisses as soon as the song was over and she realized we were there. One of the orphanage workers thought we might recommend an American game for the children to play. In minutes Amy had them running around a circle of people screaming and squealing in an Olympic caliber version of Duck Duck Goose!

I played along without much choice. Obviously Katya’s new American parents were favorites for the “Goose!” designation. The clock ran in double-time. After a half-hour of playing an hour had elapsed. It was time for us to give Katya some individual attention and to make an attempt at convincing her that she would not be betrayed.

The workers took the other children for playtime outside. I was so preoccupied with leaving Katya I didn’t even notice when the yellow Monarch floated away.

Katya was sent to retrieve her soft books from the dormitory. Soon she was seated on Amy’s lap while my wife went through the books page by page with Anya reading the Russian words. The little girl had spent every spare moment with these books ever since she got them. Marina even read them to her as best she could each night before they went to sleep. Sometimes she sneaked peeks at the pictures in the books as light from the full moon did its best to illuminate the dormitory. Her favorite pages were of a mama and papa and those of siblings. It’s hard to wait for a family when the dream eludes you.

Katya was mesmerized when Anya and Amy turned the pages once again. The little girl gasped at pictures of the horses. She tried to pronounce the names of each of her new brothers. She squealed at the picture of the hotel swimming pool at the Marriott in Moscow where we would stay on our journey home. It looked like the sales pitch was working. Somehow the pictures and promises on cloth made truth.

Fortunately, reassurance rang clear for Katya and it displaced the thumping of hollow words. Amy had done it. The books dissolved cynicism. Distrust continued to melt.

The clock was running out when Katya dropped the bomb. “When will you come back for me?”

How do you answer a question like that? A couple of months, maybe more. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It depends. Sometimes there are politics, countries fight with words and adoptions get delayed. Often there is bureaucracy. That’s a big word. It means more delays. Keep watching and waiting. Don’t get frustrated. What a crock.

Amy was smarter. “About two months?” she asked Anya.

“Yes. As near as we can guess.”

The wheels turned quickly in Amy’s mind. Two months. Sixty days. Mid April. Early May. Mid-May. Too abstract. Then she smiled as she looked out the window at the white frozen desert. “When the snow goes away and the flowers come up we will come back to get you.” Then my wife retrieved a fine point permanent marker from her purse and drew pictures of tulips, sunflowers, and daisies on the blank back page of one of the soft books. She clicked the cap back on the pen and started to put it away.

“Nyet!” Katya objected. She snatched the pen from Amy’s hand, snapped the cap back off, and drew a smiley faced sun above the flowers while speaking in Russian.

“Katya says until you come back we can blow kisses to the sun,” Anya said. It was a recall of our first meeting with her when we blew kisses to her future brothers through the setting sun.

Katya didn’t cry when we left. She was stronger than I was. She was stronger than Amy. We both used Russian words to tell her that we loved her. She energetically returned the sentiment. The child pulled my wife to her and held the mother tightly before kissing her goodbye. I hugged my future daughter too hard and too long. She gasped for breath when I let off. After, she kissed me on both cheeks. Then there was a quick peck on the lips.

The drive to the airport was torture. Waiting for boarding was worse.

During the next two months the clock ran in half time and absolutely nothing that mattered happened. Nothing.

 

Link to other sections of To Sing Frogs