Moonlight in Odessa by Janet Skeslien Charles Page A

moments I’d come to hate my life, though I suppressed these feelings deep, deep inside of me.
    The parking lot was full. Harmon’s car was parked on the sidewalk right in front of the door. He’d mentioned that having Olga live with him would be convenient. There were even bets going on which day she would move in. Vita and Vera had picked next Friday. I’d picked two months hence. I looked up at her flat. The lights were still on. I sighed. And went into the gray tomb. And trudged up the stairs.
    As always, Boba opened the last of the locks. She took my purse and slid my blazer off my shoulders. Jane told me that in America, there were many ‘latchkey kids’ who came home to an empty house. I felt sorry for these children, who did not know how it felt to be met by a loving grandmother.
    ‘Such a hardworking girl,’ she said with a smile. ‘I made you a special dish for dinner.’
    ‘You always spoil me, Boba. Thank you,’ I said and kissed her cheek.
    ‘It’s been ages since we’ve seen Olga.’
    I bent down to pull off my heels. ‘She’s busy.’
    ‘Probably found another pigeon to pluck,’ Boba muttered.
    So she’d heard the rumors about Harmon.
    She escorted me to the kitchen and turned on the water so I could wash before dinner. She pulled the dishcloth from her shoulder and I dried my hands. As I ate oven-roasted red peppers and kasha, Boba peppered me with questions. She was fascinated by the socials – we certainly didn’t have anything like them before perestroika. If someone had told me that in the future men would be able to choose a bride from a catalog, I would have told him to quit drinking so much home-made vodka.
    Boba didn’t have any respect for Odessan guys, but in the evening while waiting for me to come home, watching American movies with their beautiful homes and happily-ever-afters, she got the impression that their men were hardworking and serious. She hoped a rich, cultured foreigner would fall in love with me and take me back to his American mansion by the sea.
    ‘ Nu ?’ she asked. ‘Did you meet anyone good?’
    ‘Boba, how many times have I told you that I am there to help other girls find husbands, not to find one for myself?’
    ‘It doesn’t hurt to look,’ she said.
    I hugged her and said, ‘You know I have a boyfriend. We correspond by computer.’
    ‘Comb-poo-tair,’ she scoffed. ‘How could that possibly work?’
     
    It could work quite well. Will in Albuquerque wrote that he couldn’t come after all and asked if I wanted to visit him. Yes! Yes! Yes! I wrote. It’s my dream to go to America! I would love to meet you!
    I buzzed around the office until Harmon tried to swat me like a fly.
    Now that he no longer hounded me, I found myself missing our talks in the boardroom when the lights were out. No one had ever exasperated me as much as Harmon, but no one but Boba had ever trusted me as he did – I was the only person in Odessa who had the keys to our offices and to his flat. He’d given me both sets the first month. Even Olga didn’t have them. Though I hadn’t respected the initial agreement, he still had food from our ships delivered to my flat. Boba had never eaten so well in her entire life – even though we had a little money now, she refused to spend it on luxuries such as strawberries out of season. I was relieved that he was with Olga. That he left me alone. Yet I felt sad. Surely it was because I had lost Olga’s friendship.
    ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’
    I heard something smash against the wall in Harmon’s office, then drop to the floor.
    ‘Why have a state-of-the-art phone if the telephone lines are shit? I can’t believe this place. I’m supposed to have a conference call and I can’t hear a goddamn thing!’
    I tiptoed in to see the damage. The phone was in pieces on the parquet. Harmon sat at his desk, his shoulders slumped, his face buried in his hands. It scared me to see him like this. I backed out.
    On a normal day, he seemed