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Post by Angela on Apr 30, 2009 23:43:30 GMT -5
Zhenya took a deep breath as he closed his front door after stepping outside. If one were to look at him, they would see a look that seemed to say that he was on his way to his execution. In his mind, he was. He was about to come face to face with something he'd dreaded for the past seven years: his mother-in-law, and father-in-law. Truly, a fate worse than death.
It took more convincing than he thought, but in the end, all that had to be said was "Ksenia believes us." Truly, the word of an older sister was more valuable than Zhenya's. He rolled his eyes at the thought. He loved and respected Ksenia, and knew her well enough now that she could not stand her parents. She only explained things to them to appease Katya, who was still having a hard time with the idea of raising four children. The twins were not born yet, but they surely would be soon. Rita's birthday was in two weeks. It was hard to believe his daughter would be turning two years old.
Zhenya waved from the black Lexus as he put the key in the ignition, looking at his wife in the living room window. He blew her a kiss, realizing that this was all to make her happy. He promised himself that he could endure whatever her awful parents threw at him, and he could get through it by thinking of his wife and children. He turned the key and drove off.
On the way, he listened to a compilation of John Barry that Angela had made for him. He had discovered some time ago that it was one of the most relaxing CDs he had, and was grateful to have it for yoga and ballet as well as meditation and stress-relieving techniques. The suite from Robin and Marian made him smile as he made the hectic drive to Pittsburgh. Thankfully it was only 15 minutes away, but still, with everything else on his mind, it seemed like much longer.
City traffic, he thought with a sigh as cars and trucks whizzed by without a care for anyone. He tried to be a considerate driver. There was a time when he had no clue how to drive in Pittsburgh either, and the drivers who did were not pleasant about it.
He got to the airport sooner than he had hoped... Their plane should be landing in about ten minutes. He was not looking forward to meeting them. They were never nice to him before. Why should he expect things to change now?
ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA, FEBRUARY 1999
Evgeni was nearly seventeen. On a bright, cold Valentine's Day, Evgeni went over to his locker in school to pick up his books for his morning classes. He had some homework he neglected for his literature class soon after his lunch. Thankfully, he was sure he could get it done by then, with Ekaterina Valerova's help. Katya was his current girlfriend. The two had been dating steadily for one month. Zhenya had broken up with his previous girlfriend, Shura Fedorova, the Governor's daughter, in June of the previous year - rather, she broke up with him. Since then, Evgeni had been reluctant to date anyone. He decided to date Katya after the New Year. The change was thanks to his father. He encouraged him to stop feeling sorry for himself, and seek affection and comfort. Katya was the first girl he asked out.
Things were going fine with their relationship, and even though Valentine's Day was not as great a celebration in Russia as it was in the West, Evgeni still wanted to do something special for his new love. He passed by her locker and slipped a sweetly-decorated envelope into one of the slots. When Katya would open her locker, there it would be, most likely falling to the floor, but there it would be nonetheless. It was a homemade pink envelope with ribbons wrapped aound it and a rose taped to the back. It was made with the help of his former babysitter and family friend, Anna Andropova. Inside was a homemade card, with the drawing of a couple who looked just like Evgeni and Katya, sitting at a cafe in Paris; the Louvre, Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe were in the background. The two were sharing a rich chocolate mousse. Inside the card was another drawing, this one of the two of them looking at paintings in the Louvre. In a dialogue box, above the couple gazing at the Mona Lisa, Russian words were written:
"You're the greatest work of art I have ever seen. I love you, now, and for always. Your Eagle, Zhenyechka."
Evgeni went on his way, going off to chemistry class. A few hours later, at lunch, he went to sit with his best classmate friend, Valeri Smolensky.
"Well, I did it," Evgeni declared simply with a shrug as he sat down with his food.
"Do you think she'll like it?" Valeri asked.
"I hope so. I know I can't give her much, and so does she. But she still wants to be with me. That must mean she loves me."
"Love is too strong a word for someone as rich as her to think about someone as poor as you," Valeri reasoned. "I'd be careful if I were you."
"Oh, come on," Evgeni said with a sigh.
"I just don't want to see you hurt like you were with Shura-"
"Katya is nothing like Shura," Evgeni protested.
"Let's see," Valeri said thoughtfully. "Rich, powerful, beautiful, young, stuck-up, flirtatious, arrogant, cares nothing for the troubles of others, always desses like she's going to a big fancy party when she is at school... You're right, they have absolutely nothing in common. How could I doubt you."
"Very funny," Zhenya said, rolling his eyes. "First of all, Katya is not stuck-up."
"Are you blind? Look at her! Look at her right now!" Valeri laughed and pointed halfway across the room, where Katya stood showing off her new Prada boots to her friends.
"Look, just because she's like that with her friends doesn't mean she's like that with me," Zhenya said, folding his arms. "She's not arrogant, either."
"Please. Remember when we were twelve, and you didn't have enough money for food that day? Katya gave you cake."
"I thought that was nice of her," Zhenya protested with a shrug.
"The French didn't think so when Marie Antoinette said the same thing," Valeri said with a shrug. "Let's face it. You love her lifestyle more than you love her."
"All right, Valya, that is enough," Zhenya said with a sigh. "I would do anything for her. I could care less about her money."
"But can she say the same about you?" Valeri asked skeptically.
Zhenya sighed, exasperated, but looked towards Katya, admiring her friend's diamond earrings.
"I just don't want to see you hurt again," Valeri said piteously, and left it at that.
Zhenya said nothing, but turned his attention to his food.
Zhenya and Katya shared algebra class together, and they couldn't help but pass notes to each other during class, but only when the teacher had his back turned. Halfway through the class, Katya sent a note to Zhenya.
Got your card. Very sweet! *5 hearts drawn* Need to talk after school. Meet me at your locker. Love, Katyusha
Zhenya smiled. The tiny note, written on notebook paper, had various little heats and stars drawn as a border. Some were filled in with her pen, others were just outlined. It was sweet.
I wonder what she wants to talk about, Zhenya thought, looking over the third sentence. He suddenly felt a kick to his ankle, coming from behind him. Zhenya looked up and saw the teacher looking at him critically.
"Do you have an answer?" the teacher asked, insistently.
Zhenya looked blankly at the chalkboard, wondering which of the unfinished equations he was referring to. The teacher liked to put them up as they appeared in the book, but go through them randomly, and add in his own. It was his way of making sure the class paid attention.
"I... I don't know, Mr. Fadeev," Zhenya finally admitted.
"That's interesting," the instructor said, walking over to him. "It's a question that you, and only you, answered ight on yesterday's pop quiz. Could it be, Evgeni Alekseievich, that you were not paying attention?" He stopped at his desk and folded his arms sternly across his chest.
Evgeni still had the note out on his desk, but he hid it under his textbook. But Mr. Fadeev was too smart to fall for that. He saw the paper, but didn't see what was on it. He simply picked up the book, and took the piece of paper, setting the book down again. He looked ove the note, and walked away, going back to the front of the classroom. He was silent for a minute, making a note in his book. Finally, he called, "Evgeni Alekseievich, front and center, please."
Evgeni was the first to be caught passing notes in this class; only he and Katya were courageous - or stupid - enough to try it.
"You will have detention this afternoon," Mr. Fadeev said, handing him a hall pass. "Please go to the office." As Evgeni started to walk away, Mr. Fadeev added, "One moment, Evgeni Alekseievich. Please read this aloud to your classmates." He handed him his note. Evgeni bit his lip, hesitant to let his classmates in on his social life. "If you do not, I shall see that you receive a week's detention."
That was that, Evgeni thought with a sigh.
"Got your card. Very sweet. Need to talk-"
"Louder, please, Evgeni Alekseievich! Start over."
Embarrassed and humiliated, Evgeni raised his voice. "Got your card. Very sweet. Need to talk. Meet me at your locker after school."
After a few seconds, Mr. Fadeev commanded, "Finish it, please."
Zhenya bit his lip. "Love... Katyusha..."
There were four girls in the class named Ekaterina. Only one of them blushed hotly.
"So, the next question. Who is your dear Katyusha?" Mr. Fadeev asked.
Zhenya said nothing.
"Evgeni Alekseievich, I will find out with or without your help. If you do not tell me, things will be harder on you."
"It was me," Katya Valerova said, standing up. "Please don't punish Zhenya for my mistake. He never sent me any notes in this class; I always send him notes. He only reads them. He never writes anything in return." She was lying through her teeth, but hoped that, since neither she nor Zhenya were not normally in trouble in school, that Mr. Fadeev would believe her.
He looked at her skeptically. After a minute, he turned back to his book and wrote things down again. He made out another pass.
"Ekaterina Alexandrovna, for sending notes in my class, by your own admission, you will receive a week's detention. Evgeni Alekseievich, you still have one day. Both of you please report to Mrs. Kozlova."
Zhenya sighed as he walked with his girlfriend out of the room and went on his way to the principal.
"I'm sorry," katya said, putting her arm around him. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
"It's nothing," Zhenya said, brushing it off as best he could. He liked her arm around him though. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Oh! My parents, they want to meet you!"
Zhenya stopped in his tracks. "W- what? M- me? Really?"
"Yes! They wanted your phone number so they can personally arrange a meeting. I just wanted to make sure that was okay before I did that."
"Oh, sure!" Zhenya felt excited now that he would, apparently, finally meet Katya's parents. It would be the first time in seven years that he would meet her father. His previous meeting with him was not a pleasant one. But hopefully that was changed. "Do you think they will like me?"
"I think they will adore you," she said, kissing his cheek.
"Listen, Katya, I want to say, I appreciate what you did back there. But you didn't have to..."
"We both would've ended up with detention anyway. I'll probably get out of it though. Papa's connections and all."
"You and your family's connections. Do you ever get away with anything serious?"
"Nothing like what Papa does. Not that I'd ever want that as a career. Mama hates it enough."
"You're kidding."
"What?" Katya asked.
"Your mother is active in the mafiya?" Zhenya was surprised.
"Yeah, but she hates it."
"Why doesn't your father just get a man to do whatever he has her do?"
"Because a man can't handle torture like a woman can. A woman who has given birth a few times is more valuable as a member than a man who has his first day on the job without any exploration into the pain involved with torture," Katya explained with a shrug. Her tone was nonchalant, as if she were just explaining why the clouds are grey.
"Wow... I guess you have a point..." The two were almost at the principal's office. "Would they want me as a member?"
Katya faced him just as they got to the door. She had a serious expression on her face. "You would never want that life."
"I might, if it gives me wealth," Zhenya said with a shrug.
Katya sighed. "Honestly? You're no stranger to poverty. You could handle starvation and dehydration. You're used to that. You could probably handle being subjected to sleep deprivation. But you could never survive the physical tortures they would inflict on you. Even if you actually lived, you would probably give away whatever information they want before things get really bad. You wouldn't be a very valuable asset."
"Are you saying I'm weak?" Zhenya asked, offended.
"There's nothing weak about being afraid of torture," Katya said sensibly, "and you would never survive it."
Zhenya was quiet as they walked into the office. What was scarier? he wondered. Is it scarier that she knows the business of the mafiya as well as she seems to, or that she speaks of it so matter-of-factly? He shuddered. Not that he would ever consider adopting the mafiya lifestyle. His father was always quick to point out that, as wealthy as the mafiya was, they got their wealth "from Lucifer himself." Everything that Evgeni's family had was, according to his father, "their gift from God." That was enough to deter him from being jealous of the mafiya. Of course, he still longed for a better life... A life which would give him and his family enough to eat and give them all full stomachs before bed, where they lived in a nice apartment with perfect facilities, where they could have warm clothing that looked nice, where his mother and sister could have all the medicine they needed, and his father wouldn't have to worry anymore...
Zhenya went home after detention. Aleksei stood with his arms firmly crossed.
"You had detention?" he asked redundantly.
Zhenya sighed. "Yes... I'm sorry. Katya and I passed notes and got caught. We both had detention."
"Well, I trust you've learned your lesson," Aleksei scolded."Why do you go to school?"
"Fo education," Zhenya said with a deep sigh.
"And why are you not in school?"
"To socialize," he answered, lowering his eyes. It was something that Aleksei had told him time and time again.
"All right. Whatever you have to say to your friends, you can say it to them after school. Am I clear?"
Zhenya nodded.
"All right. Go do your homework."
For the next week, Zhenya was forbidden from socializing with any of his friends. He was forbidden to talk to them on the phone. Aleksei was tough, but he was fair. It was socializing that got his son detention, so it stood to reason he would learn his lesson if he couldn't have that privilege.
A few days after the week was up, however, the phone calls started. Zhenya answered every single call, even the ones not for him, waiting anxiously for that one phone call...
"Is Evgeni Alekseievich there?" a man's voice asked. Zhenya's heart skipped a beat.
"This is he," he answered, trying to remain calm.
"Alexander Mikhailovich Valerov. I understand you have become close with my daughter."
"Yes," Zhenya replied. "She is a very nice person, a good friend."
"Well, you see, her mother and I would like to approve of all of Katya's friends. We would like to meet you for tea. Is Saturday evening open for you?"
Zhenya paused. He was free at that time... "Saturday night is fine."
"We'll have a driver pick you up at seven," Alexander told him.
"How kind... But it's not necessary..."
"I insist."
Evgeni cleared his throat. "All right. I look forward to that. I'll see you then."
Even though he had four hours to go before he would be picked up, Zhenya was already getting dressed. He wanted to make a good impression. What could he possibly wear?
I sound like such a girl, he thought with a sigh as he tossed another shirt on the bed.
The fact was, Zhenya had very little clothing that was fit to be seen by the rich. His best outfits were a few years old. They did not fit properly, their styles were outdated, their colors faded, and threads were hanging from some of them.
"Oh, this is such a mistake," Zhenya mourned, putting his head in his hands.
Standing in the doorway, Aleksei looked at the pile of clothes clumsily piled on Zhenya's bed, his son kneeling at his small closet. He sighed. He was going to try to talk him out of this whole thing, but...
"Oh, Zhenya..." Aleksei said with a sigh. "I think that it's nice that you want to make a good impression on Katya's family. Why don't you just wear this?" He picked out a dark green sweater and khaki pants.
Zhenya sighed, looking at him. "The sweater is a mess, it's too fuzzy. The pants are faded and they have threads sticking out. Katya's parents will be wearing designer clothes! I can't show up in anything here!"
Aleksei grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the threads hanging from the sweater and pants. "It's fine," he said gently. "It's not what is outside that matters. How many times have I told you this?"
"It may not matter to you, Papa, but it matters to them," Zhenya said sadly. He bowed his head. "They're probably going to think I'm destitute!" he exclaimed.
"Will you stop?" Aleksei asked calmly. "They will love you. Show them what a good person you are on the inside, and they won't care what is on the outside." Aleksei smiled lovingly. "Come with me."
Zhenya followed his father into his bedroom, where Aleksei stood at the dresser, opening a small wooden box. He pulled out a small gold chain with a watch pendant attached to it. On one side of the watch was a double-headed eagle emblem engraved. He offered it to his son. "Keep it," he said. "You would have gotten it sooner or later. It holds great sentimental value for our family."
Zhenya slipped the pendant around his neck, wondering if it would truly look good with the sweater and khakis. But then, the Romanov emblem alone should convey prestige. Maybe this could work out after all!
"Thank you, Papa," he said, and went back to his room to dress and put his clothes away again. Three and a half hours later, he stood in the cold outside, wearing his thick brown sable coat. He'd had it for years, so it was in mediocre shape, but it was the best he could afford. The black limousine pulled up and Evgeni felt his jaw drop at the sight. This couldn't be his ride...
He felt his heart race as the chauffer came out and spoke to him.
"Evgeni Alekseievich Potemerenko?" the older man in his '70s asked. He was shorter than Evgeni, wearing a black and white dress uniform with a matching hat. The hat, cuffs, and pants were trimmed in gold-colored thread.
"Yes," Zhenya replied nervously. Here we go, he thought as the chauffer offered his hand.
"This way, sir."
The man led him to the limo, where he opened the door.
"Thank you... What is your name?"
The man looked surprised, as if he had never been asked this question before. He wavered for a moment.
"Kolya," he replied, sounding even more surprised than he looked.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kolya. Thank you for the ride. I appreciate you coming out here in this weather. Did you have trouble finding me?"
Kolya smiled gently. "I grew up across the street. I had no trouble at all."
He closed the door, and went back to the front seat. Zhenya looked around. The spacious seats had leather interior. Thee was a television and a bar set up. Next to him was a phone, which rang. Zhenya picked it up.
"I've been ordered to close the windows. Don't be alarmed."
"Thank you, Kolya..." As the windows closed around him, blocking his view of the outside, Zhenya asked, "You say you grew up here?"
"Born and raised in that apartment building right across the street, sir," Kolya answered. Zhenya could see through the front window between the front and back seats that Kolya's eyes were fixed on the road ahead of him.
"Do they treat you well? The Valerovs?"
Kolya paused. "As well as can be expected. They're busy people, but they provide me with good money."
Zhenya smiled. "Well, I'm glad for you. Do you have any family?"
Kolya chuckled. "Two sons, five grandchildren," he answered. "I think one of them goes to school with you. Liza Mitvenko?"
"She sits behind me in Literature class!" Zhenya exclaimed, truly happy to discover this small connection. "She's very nice."
"Thank you."
The two talked for a good while, as Kolya concentrated on the road. Finally, the car stopped. Evgeni reached for the door, but it wouldn't open. At first, he didn't understand, then it opened without him touching it. Kolya stood at the door, holding it open. Zhenya stepped out and thanked Kolya. He brought a little bit of pocket money with him. It wasn't much, just five rubles. Still, Evgeni happily gave them all to Kolya.
Kolya was surprised, and smiled. "Thank you, sir!"
"No need to thank me," Zhenya replied with a smile of his own. He turned to look around at the home of the Valerovs... or what he thought would end up being the home of the Valerovs.
Bustling cars, people dressed in fine designer evening clothes and jewelry, bright lights and fancy decorations on the outside of the building he was standing in front of was the sight that greeted him.
Surely, there must be a mistake! he thought, looking around the area along the street. Kolya had already left, driven off into the night. Zhenya thought about going after him, but was stopped by a voice he actually hoped he did not hear...
"Zhenya!"
A happy, laughing, giddy voice was heard calling out to him, followed by the sound of clicking heels on the pavement. Zhenya turned and saw Katya in a gorgeous pale sky blue Versace chiffon strapless, backless dress. The skirt was shorter in the front and longer in the back, layered with sheer sky blue chiffon fabric. The top of the dress sculpted around her breasts, and her hourglass figure was accentuated perfectly by the tightness of the dress. She wore a gold diamond and blue topaz bracelet, necklace, and earring set, and her sky blue three-inch thin high heels had flower-like accents on the toe area. She threw her arms around his neck tightly, nearly pulling him to the ground as she leaped up.
She looked gorgeous. So did everyone else, Zhenya noticed as he looked around once more after setting Katya down. He was in the fanciest part of the city. In front of him loomed the fanciest restaurant, the Russian Tea Room, lavishly decorated as if it were a palace. Outside, young men in uniform flanked the doors at the entrance. Already, Zhenya felt sick to his stomach. He shouldn't be here.
Not dressed like this, he thought, looking down at his khaki pants and faded, fuzzy sweater.
"You look beautiful," Zhenya said quietly, gently stroking her left cheek with the back of his right hand.
"You look handsome," she replied with a loving smile. She pointed to his watch. "What's that? The Romanov crest?"
"Yeah... Papa gave it to me..." Zhenya replied shyly.
"It looks nice on you," Katya complimented. "So, shall we go?" She gestured to the entrance.
"I thought I was supposed to have tea with your parents... I didn't think it would be like this... I can't go in there dressed like this!"
"Nonsense, you look fine!" Katya reassured, but then she paused. "Well... you could use a dress jacket. Dima!" she called to one of the uniformed men flanking the entrance to the restaurant. He sauntered over to her. "Could you do me a favor? Run across the street and get me a nice dinner jacket for my guest?" She handed him a big roll of bills. "You and he look to be about the same size. Keep the change you get as a tip," she added.
"Of course, Ekaterina Alexandrovna," he replied,taking the wad of cash into his pocket.
As he walked off to get the jacket, Zhenya stared at his girlfriend. "Do you honestly think that a simple jacket will do the trick?" he asked doubtfully. Katya shrugged.
The truth was, she didn't know what else to do for him. She couldn't just go and buy him a new suit, could she? They were running late as it was! She had to keep him feeling as comfortable as possible,especially given the situation. She had to fight to keep from staring at his outfit. It really didn't fit in here. But then, she hardly expected him to show upin Armani.
Dima returned with the jacket, an elegant black silk dinner jacket with gold buttons. He offered it to Katya, who in turn offered it to Zhenya. Zhenya cleared his throat, but took it with thanks. He took off his fur coat and slipped the dinner jacket on. Katya brushed it down with her hands and nodded in approval.
"You look perfect," she said.
"I look ridiculous," Zhenya declared softly. "Khaki pants and a sweater with a dinner jacket? Look how everyone else is dressed!"
"You can't help how they're dressed, just as you can't help how you're dressed. Papa didn't tell you that this is where we would be meeting."
"You could've told me!" Zhenya exclaimed.
"I didn't know until we were just about to leave," Katya protested. "Otherwise, I would have told you. But listen, there's something I need to tell you about tonight-"
"There you are!" a man's voice called out. Zhenya turned and saw a middleaged, muscular, intimidating man wearing a tuxedo that looked like it was designed by Armani. He was tan-skinned, with green eyes and closely-cropped thick dark brown hair. He was also about seven inches taller than Zhenya, who cleared his throat nervously. "You must be Evgeni Alekseievich," he commented, holding out his hand. "Alexander Mikhailovich."
Zhenya nodded a little, shaking his hand weakly. "How do you do, Alexander Mikhailovich."
"Come, everyone's waiting. It's one thing to be fashionably late, quite another to hold everyone up, right, Evgeni Alekseievich? Surely you understand how that is."
"Of course..."
Was that meant to be an insult? Zhenya wondered as they headed inside. A young woman in uniform walked over to them.
"Good evening. May I take your coat, sir?"
Zhenya hesitantly handed her his fur coat, wondering if he should hand her the dinner jacket as well, but noticed that those in the restaurant still had their jackets, he kept it on. She handed him a ticket.
"Five rubles," she said.
Zhenya reached for his wallet, though he knew that he had no more money. Thankfully, Alexander Mikhailovich held out his hand.
"Lara, he is my guest for this evening."
"Very good, sir, no charge," she said, and took the coat over to check it.
Zhenya heaved an inward sigh of relief, then looked to Alexander Mikhailovich.
"Thank you..."
"Oh, no need to thank me. They know me well here. I have never had to pay for their services."
They walked through the ornately-decorated lobby. Its walls , decorated with white wallpaper with an elegant pastel blue floral pattern on it, were punctuated by famous paintings and portraits created by famous Russian artists. Abstract art, however, was entirely absent from the gallery. The paintings were mostly landscapes and gardens, with several portraits of Russian rulers. The floor had small silver roses embroidered in the midnight blue carpet.
Zhenya had never seen such a fancy place in person before. They walked into the main dining area. In the center of the room was a large table, decorated with a white silk and lace tablecloth. The silverware and samovar on the table was surely pure silver, and the glasses were no doubt pure crystal. Evgeni sighed, looking around at the other tables, decorated identically to this one.
Ishouldn't be eating at these tables, he thought, I should be cleaning them.
There were about twenty people sitting at the table. Alexander tookthe opportunity to introduce everyone to his guest.
"This is my wife, Oksana Alexandrovna." He gestured to a middle-aged woman whose appearance was exactly like her daughter's.
"How do you do," Zhenya said, holding out his hand to her.
"Very well, thank you. How do you do?"
"I'm well," he answered quietly, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. His body trembled self-consciously as he noticed everyone - not just those at the table - was staring at him.
Alexander Mikhailovich introduced Evgeni to several other people who were sitting at the table. One of them he'd met several years before: Katya's older sister, Ksenia. Another...
"This is my wife's brother, Ivan Alexandrovich Shotsky. You must know of him. He coaches figure skating."
Zhenya paled. Of course he knew this man, but he blocked out every memory he had of him. An icy chill ran up and down his spine, and he trembled on instinct.
"Zhenya, good to see you again. It's been many years since we actually talked," the older man said, smiling at him with a glint in his eye.
"Yes... It's good to see you," he lied, if only for the sake of politeness. Zhenya swallowed hard and nodded, sitting next to Katya. He was directly across from Shotsky.
"I see you've put on your Sunday best for the occasion," a balding, grey-haired overweight man in his sixties observed tauntingly, to which Katya disputed.
"There's nothing wrong with how he's dressed. He looks fine. In fact, to me, he's the best-dressed person here." She smiled.
"Katya, remind me to take you to your optometrist for an emergency checkup," Alexander said, rolling his eyes behind his menu.
To distract himself, Zhenya looked at his own menu. Much of the food, he noticed, would cost his family a whole month's rent...
"Any idea what you'd like, Zhenya?" katya asked, looking over her menu too. Zhenya shrugged.
Half the things on here wee things he'd never had in his life, some things he'd never even heard of!
"I am not sure... Everything sounds delicious..."
"No doubt," Alexander quipped, amused. "Don't you usually eat stale bread for dinner?"
Zhenya stared at him. "My family and I eat better food than that..."
Several people around the table laughed.
"Of course you do," Alexander replied with a laugh. "Surely no one is that destitute. It was a joke."
Zhenya lowered his eyes back to his menu. Sadly, he did know people who were that "destitute." "Of course... Forgive me..."
"The poor child doesn't know your humor yet, Sasha," Shotsky said with a chuckle. It was clear that he was amused by the comments.
Under the table, Zhenya felt a foot caressing his own. Instinctively, he looked to Katya, who smiled at him.
"You know, you should try the baluga. Best caviar I ever ate," Katya said, pointing to the item on the menu.
Zhenya had never actually eaten caviar before. He knew what it was, and he had to admit it didn't seem very appetizing. It was also one of the more expensive appetizers on the menu. "When in Rome," he thought.
"Sounds good. I think I'll try that then."
"The borsch is exquisite too. You should definitely try it. Oh, and the cracked crab salad is incredible. But that depends on what you're in the mood for. Their steak is wonderful, so is their chicken and seafood. But knowing you, I think you would like the baluga, borsch, shrimp cocktail, lemon and rosemary salmon-"
"Good Lord, Katya," Oksana said with a laugh. "Why don't you just read him the whole menu?" She paused, and looked at Zhenya inquisitively. "You do know how to read, don't you?"
"Of course I know how to read," Zhenya said, not hiding his offense.
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