was married for two years, but my wife died in ’05. She was an intellectual from Lviv. She helped run the Pora youth group that built the grassroots support for Revolution Orange, when we overturned the fraudulent presidential election.” He paused until Nadia nodded, showing she knew about it. “How about you?”
“I have a mother and a brother. My father’s dead. And I was married, too, but my husband died in a car crash a while back. He was a professor like you. Religion was his field.”
They talked about their spouses until a waiter delivered their coffees.
“So why did you call me, Nadia?” Anton said. “Not that it matters. We love Americans in Ukraine, and it’s my privilege to meet you. I enjoy our conversation very much.”
Nadia studied his earnest expression. The concierge at Hotel Rus had helped her find the website for Kyiv Slavonic University. Anton Medved really was an assistant professor of sociology, and his picture confirmed his identity. She decided she could trust him.
“I’m looking for someone,” Nadia said.
“Who is this person you’re looking for? I know people who know people who know a lot of people.”
“I’m looking for an uncle I never knew. But first, I have to find a woman who knows his whereabouts. To find her, I need a friend who knows Kyiv.”
Anton spread his arms out and pointed at himself. “Who is this woman? What is her name? You have an address?”
“I have a name, an address, and a phone number. Problem is, I went to the address today, and the super told me she doesn’t live there anymore. And the phone number belongs to a beauty salon. Which really doesn’t make sense, because supposedly she was waiting for me to call her.”
“Huh,” Anton said, nodding. “You have the number?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Nadia pulled her borrowed cell phone out of her purse and read from the memory. “Two-four-four, three-six-eight-three.”
Anton stared at her and blinked. “What about the city code?”
“She lives in Kyiv. It’s forty-four, right?”
“That depends.”
“What do you mean, it depends?”
“If it’s a Kyivstar mobile phone, it’s sixty-seven.”
“What?”
“Everyone thinks there’s only one city code for Kyiv. That’s not true. If that number is a cell phone and it’s Kyivstar, the city code is sixty-seven. Not forty-four.”
Nadia realized that she and her mother had been dialing the wrong number. “Is it rude to make a call in here? Should I go outside?”
Anton waved his hand. “Please. Make your call. It’s too dangerous to step outside. The temptation for you to smoke pot or buy cocaine will be overwhelming.”
Nadia was busy dialing, so she didn’t realize what he had said until after the phone started ringing. She chuckled belatedly and held her breath.
One ring, two rings, three rings, four. Five rings, six rings—pause. A commercial female voice greeted Nadia in Ukrainian: “The party you have called is unavailable. Please leave a message at the tone.”
Nadia left an urgent message in Ukrainian. Afterward, she called back and left the same information in English.
When she hung up, Anton beamed at her. “Good?” he said.
Nadia shrugged. “I’m not sure. I hope it was her and not someone else’s phone.”
“I was just thinking that if that wasn’t the right phone number, we can go to her apartment and I can talk to that super for you. A local might have more luck, you know?”
“Thanks. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I think it’s her. Everyone uses cell phones these days. Relax. It’s like I told you. This is Kyiv. Things will get better.”
Nadia smiled and thanked him. She took a bite of her cheesecake. The coffee-flavored mascarpone melted in her mouth. She hadn’t found Clementine yet, but she was closer to the money today than yesterday, and she’d made a friend. She was in a foreign land, but she felt as though she was visiting her second home. There was ample reason to be
“I have a mother and a brother. My father’s dead. And I was married, too, but my husband died in a car crash a while back. He was a professor like you. Religion was his field.”
They talked about their spouses until a waiter delivered their coffees.
“So why did you call me, Nadia?” Anton said. “Not that it matters. We love Americans in Ukraine, and it’s my privilege to meet you. I enjoy our conversation very much.”
Nadia studied his earnest expression. The concierge at Hotel Rus had helped her find the website for Kyiv Slavonic University. Anton Medved really was an assistant professor of sociology, and his picture confirmed his identity. She decided she could trust him.
“I’m looking for someone,” Nadia said.
“Who is this person you’re looking for? I know people who know people who know a lot of people.”
“I’m looking for an uncle I never knew. But first, I have to find a woman who knows his whereabouts. To find her, I need a friend who knows Kyiv.”
Anton spread his arms out and pointed at himself. “Who is this woman? What is her name? You have an address?”
“I have a name, an address, and a phone number. Problem is, I went to the address today, and the super told me she doesn’t live there anymore. And the phone number belongs to a beauty salon. Which really doesn’t make sense, because supposedly she was waiting for me to call her.”
“Huh,” Anton said, nodding. “You have the number?”
“Yeah, hold on.” Nadia pulled her borrowed cell phone out of her purse and read from the memory. “Two-four-four, three-six-eight-three.”
Anton stared at her and blinked. “What about the city code?”
“She lives in Kyiv. It’s forty-four, right?”
“That depends.”
“What do you mean, it depends?”
“If it’s a Kyivstar mobile phone, it’s sixty-seven.”
“What?”
“Everyone thinks there’s only one city code for Kyiv. That’s not true. If that number is a cell phone and it’s Kyivstar, the city code is sixty-seven. Not forty-four.”
Nadia realized that she and her mother had been dialing the wrong number. “Is it rude to make a call in here? Should I go outside?”
Anton waved his hand. “Please. Make your call. It’s too dangerous to step outside. The temptation for you to smoke pot or buy cocaine will be overwhelming.”
Nadia was busy dialing, so she didn’t realize what he had said until after the phone started ringing. She chuckled belatedly and held her breath.
One ring, two rings, three rings, four. Five rings, six rings—pause. A commercial female voice greeted Nadia in Ukrainian: “The party you have called is unavailable. Please leave a message at the tone.”
Nadia left an urgent message in Ukrainian. Afterward, she called back and left the same information in English.
When she hung up, Anton beamed at her. “Good?” he said.
Nadia shrugged. “I’m not sure. I hope it was her and not someone else’s phone.”
“I was just thinking that if that wasn’t the right phone number, we can go to her apartment and I can talk to that super for you. A local might have more luck, you know?”
“Thanks. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I think it’s her. Everyone uses cell phones these days. Relax. It’s like I told you. This is Kyiv. Things will get better.”
Nadia smiled and thanked him. She took a bite of her cheesecake. The coffee-flavored mascarpone melted in her mouth. She hadn’t found Clementine yet, but she was closer to the money today than yesterday, and she’d made a friend. She was in a foreign land, but she felt as though she was visiting her second home. There was ample reason to be
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