To Sing Frogs Chapter 18a

Lelya 2003

Chapter 18

A Promise Fulfilled

 Amy handed me the large bouquet to hold while she climbed back into the car. She had insisted we stop on our way out of Vladivostok so she could buy some flowers for Katya. If the fulfillment of her words that we would return with the flowers needed a little assistance, then my wife was happy to help.

Bill rushed to the door of the orphanage as the rest of us piled out of the car. I don’t think anyone ever opens their own door when Bill is around. Stass smiled and Anya thanked him as they entered the building. I was following Amy and bumped into the back of her when she stopped before entering the doorway. She stared at the orange bricks of the building without looking away while Bill patiently held the door. Stass and Anya walked on, not realizing the delay.

“What?” I asked as I gently pushed her forward. Amy resisted and lifted her hand to point at several bricks near the entrance. They were scribed in children’s handwriting. I looked farther down the wall and under closer scrutiny became aware that random bricks were marked in both directions for as far as I could see. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was looking at headstones in an all-child cemetery. Hundreds of thousands of cocoons.

Amy bowed her head and walked almost reverently into the building. My feet were nailed to the ground.

“What?” Bill asked while still holding the door.

“See where kids have written their names?” I said while pointing to a brick. “Леля.”

“Is that what it is? A name?”

“Yeah. They all are.”

“There are hundreds of them!”

“Yeah.”

“Some of the marks look pretty old and weathered.”

I just shook my head.

“Where are they now?” Bill asked. It was a rhetorical question. Even so, I felt compelled to answer.

“I’m sure we don’t want to know.” I softly shook my head again and bowed it as I walked into emptiness.

Stass and Anya were stopped and waiting further down the hallway. Amy had just caught up to them.

“Everything alright?” Anya asked when Bill and I joined them.

“Yes. We were just looking at something.”

“I can’t understand what you Americans find so fascinating about these places,” Anya laughed. “Are you ready now?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Stass and Anya just smiled and we followed them down the hall.

“The director felt badly that she didn’t meet you last time,” Stass explained. “She asked if we could stop by her office for a quick visit before seeing Katya.”

Stass tapped on the old lacquered wooden door and gently pushed it open after hearing the voice from within the office. The director bolted from her seat to greet us and squealed when she saw the flowers. She held her hand out and directed us to chairs around her desk while speaking to us in Russian. It was obvious she was inviting us to be seated. The five of us sat down and the director buried her nose in the bouquet. Then she chattered excitedly as she went back behind the desk.

“She says Katya will be excited about the flowers,” Anya translated. “She also says she is very relieved you are here.”

Relieved? That’s weird.

The director became animated, waving her hands while speaking rapidly. She motioned at the window, pointed at the floor, threw up her hands as if in frustration, and made other sorts of movements while pulling faces and adding theatrics. Finally she sat back in her chair and slumped as if she was exhausted. Soon after she started into her story, Stass and Anya began to chuckle. By the end they were laughing heartily.

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