Chapter 6

The Console

Growing up in Russia, I was used to snow. In Moscow, it snowed six months out of the year. But snow in Russia was gradual. It fell slowly, building up, and snow piles appeared over weeks, growing tall. So when Papa got home from work one day and announced, panic in his voice, that it was about to snow, Mama, Sergei and I were amused.

“So what?” Mama opened her eyes wide. “Snow isn’t a big deal!” Sergei, unusually, was in the kitchen, and he, too, looked unimpressed.

“Get ready. We need to spread salt on the steps.” Papa placed a large bag right by the door, expression on his face serious. “We’re about to get snowed in.”

“Why would you need salt if it’s about to snow?” Mama frowned.

“To melt the ice.” Papa looked at Sergei. “Hey, sport, help me out here.”

The two of them spread salt on the steps and the driveway, then came back inside, with a light dusting of snow on their coats, their hair moist from precipitation.

That weekend was the best one I’d had in America. Snow fell for two days straight, blanketing our neighborhood. I watched TV and slept. Mama and Papa were unusually nice to each other, and Sergei was in his room, playing guitar. In the evenings, we made plans for the future. Papa promised to take us to Lake Erie in the summer.

“As soon as it gets warm, we’ll go there for the weekend. Rent a house. And we’ll go swimming. Water is very clear, beautiful. And we can picnic outside. It’s budget-friendly.” Papa promised, staring at a distance. He furrowed his brow. “Maybe we can even rent a camper.”

“A camper? What’s that?” I asked, staring at Papa.

“One of those cars, you sleep in it and you can drive around, see different places.”

“Like a house on wheels?” I sat up straight. It sounded like a dream I didn’t know I had.

“Exactly.” Papa ruffled my hair. “That’s my guy.”

Sergei had been sitting with a detached expression on his face, but even he perked up at the mention of a trip to Lake Erie.

On the third day of the blizzard, after the snow had stopped falling and Papa and Sergei had ventured outside to clear the snow from the driveway, we had a visitor.

It was Vlada. She came dressed in a thick winter jacket with the Penguins’ logo. I’d seen a few high school kids wear those, but never on a woman. She had on sturdy winter boots, and when she took them off, snow fell out of them, as if she’d stuffed them with it on purpose.

“Love this weather!” Vlada exclaimed, pulling off her hat. It was a pink knitted beanie, the color of it contrasting with the rest of her black outfit. “ I’ve been walking in the snow for two days straight. Can’t get enough.” Vlada exclaimed. “I should have told you I was going to come over. But I wanted it to be a surprise!” Vlada let out a laugh. “So, here it is!” She produced a rectangular package, tightly wrapped in newspaper. I immediately recognized the lettering of ‘New Russian Word,” ‘Novoe Russkoe Slovo’, a Russian immigrant newspaper.

“You shouldn’t have. Please, come in, sit down!” Mama fussed, taking Vlada’s jacket.

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“I wanted to say hi to Rodion.” Vlada fixed her gaze on me.

“Ryder.” I breathed, and Mama sighed. “He only wants to be called Ryder.”

“That’s fine. Nothing wrong with it.” Vlada’s face took on a dreamy expression. “I wish I’d changed my name when I first came to America. It’s a great opportunity to start a new life.”

I fidgeted, my eyes fixed on the package. I suspected it was for me, but wasn’t entirely sure. I could feel something important was about to happen. A transformation.

“So, little guy, I hear you’ve been a good boy at school.” Vlada furrowed her brow and looked directly at me. “So I decided I’d give you this. The boys are out of the house already, and my kids never play anymore. But I know they sure loved this thing.” She handed me the package. “Go ahead, unwrap it.”

I accepted the gift and took the paper off. The newsprint stained my fingers, and by the time I put it aside, they were gray. I was holding a game console.

“Thank you!” I gasped. It was the very console I’d seen at Vlada’s house. Sergei and I even played it one evening, when we were over there with Mama.

“Vlada, this is so generous of you! You shouldn’t have!” Mama leaned in to give Vlada a hug.

“I’d like for your boys to use it. Better than this thing sitting there collecting dust.”

There was no danger of that with me around. I was already plugging it in, connecting the cables and deftly inserting the game cartridge.

“See, he knows what to do. It’s meant for little Rodion.” Vlada noted.

Mama took Vlada to the kitchen, and by the time I smelled the aroma of coffee brewing, I’d already connected the console, gotten the right channel and was staring at Stewart the Fox’s adorable face. With the console, Vlada brought a treasure trove of games her sons had played. The tune of the Stewart game played loudly, and I was enthralled, moving the little fox on the screen. He was spinning into a ball, baring his teeth, his red spiky hair ready to defend him, to prickle and attack.

“Hey, what’s this?” I heard Sergei’s voice. It came out of another dimension, and pulled me back to reality.

“Ha?” I turned, with some difficulty tearing myself from the screen.

“Where did you get this?” Sergei brushed the snow from his jacket and walked up to me. His boots left wet footprints on the carpet. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been outside. “Is that a game console?”

“Yes.” I turned back and Stewart flashed me a smile. I rocked back and forth and Stewart and I both knew we’d found each other.

The next moment Stewart spoke to me.

“Ryder.” A wink followed. Hand on the hip. “Let’s play!”

“Alright!” I yelped and edged closer to the screen. I wanted it to possess me. I wanted to be there, with Stewart, inside of the game, running and spinning on the purple bricks with him. I wanted to flip just like him, to be as fast.

“Rodion, what are you doing?” Sergei shook me.

“What?” I looked up at my brother.

“When did you set this up?”

“Just now. Vlada brought it over.” I put the game aside and snapped back to reality. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins. I jumped up and down, just like I’d seen Stewart do, then I did a flip.

My life changed that day in more ways than one. I started to wear all red. Like Stewart. I had one shirt that color and I wore it every day, refusing to wear anything else until Mama got the clue and took me shopping to Gabe’s. We took two buses to get there, because Papa needed to go swimming, but we made it, and Mama let me pick out new t-shirts for myself. We found several shirts with Stewart the fox on them, and I immediately started wearing them.

“My little fox.” Mama cooed, watching me as I paraded my new outfits.

I loved the game. Stewart took over my life. There were other games, but I didn’t care for them. I identified with him. I was him. We were one. I could trust him.

Stewart listened to me. He did exactly what was expected of him and he appeared to me in my dreams. More than once, I woke up to find Stewart sitting on my pillow, speaking to me. It wasn’t Russian or English, but our own language. What Stewart wanted me to know percolated into my brain through sounds. Stewart would stay, but only if I didn’t move. If I tried to reach for him, he’d move away and disappear. I figured it out after some tries, and once I did, I’d lay motionless, in a sort of paralysis, waiting for Stewart to transmit messages.

What did he tell me? Everything. Mostly, the revelations were about how to get to the next level in the game. But some were about the ways of the world. Stewart told me about my true mission in life. It was to be his mouthpiece. I was to help him communicate with the world, to let the true Stewart be seen. I didn’t know what that meant, not entirely, but he would smile coyly and tell me that ‘all would reveal itself in due course’ if I pressed him for more information.