Chapter 8

It was late July when Papa made it clear that we wouldn’t be going to Erie for a camping trip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get my leave sorted out in time, and now all the good cabins are rented out.”

“But what about the camper?” I asked, turning on the console. It was early on a Sunday morning and I’d just woken up, but I’d been dreaming about Stewart and needed my fix. The cute fox appeared on the screen and right away got my full attention.

My parents were sitting in the kitchen, Papa drinking his coffee. Mama was flipping through the ‘New Russian Word’. Vlada had been passing on the newspapers to Mama and Mama was looking at classified ads. The ads were for jobs in either Philadelphia or New York City, where most Russian immigrants lived, but that did not stop Mama from looking at these regularly.

“I hear Brooklyn is quite nice. A lot like Moscow.” Mama noted, ignoring my question and Papa’s announcement.

“Lydia, don’t be ridiculous. No one wants to live in Brooklyn. People are trying to leave, not move there.”

“It’s just that Pittsburgh is so small. And nothing going on here. I’ve been stuck in Greenfield for whole year now!” Mama pouted. “And now we can’t even go to Erie.”

”Next year.” Papa sighed. "But you know what? We can throw a nice big party for Ryder. What do you say?” Papa turned to me. “ I know you’ve been looking forward to going to the lake. So how about a nice big party to celebrate your sixth birthday?” I didn’t react. I was trying to get Stewart to the next level.

“Ryder!” Papa called, louder now. I looked up at him in confusion. “How about a birthday party?”

“A birthday party?” I jumped up. “Thank you, Papa!” I rushed over and put my arms around him. “Thank you!”

I’d never had a big party before. Back in Russia, Mama, Sergei and I would have some cake, and that was it. But in my year in America, I’d learned that kid birthday parties turned into huge celebrations, with lots of guests, elaborate cakes, and presents. Lots of presents. So many that the kids didn’t know what to do with them and were forced to write thank you cards to the gift bearers.

“Thank you, Philip. What a wonderful idea!” Mama smiled.

On my actual birthday, which fell on a Thursday, Mama baked the traditional honey cake, ‘Medovik’. Mama, Papa, Sergei and I ate the cake together after lighting candles and singing the Happy Birthday song.

The party took place on Saturday, August 10, 1996. Mama and Papa invited their friends to the festivities. Boris and Rita, Vlada and her husband, also named Boris, who would miss the party on the account of his ill health and general misanthropy, according to Vlada, as well as Zhanna and her husband Anton. Sergei brought over his friends, Jimmy and Nate. Like him, they loved ‘The Doors’ and wore all black: black leather jackets, black Dr. Martens boots, black t-shirts and jeans. Thick chains connected to their belts. Mama called the three of them ‘the undertakers.’

There was one problem. My friends. I couldn’t invite anyone, because Mama didn’t speak English and hadn’t exchanged numbers with any parents. Not even the two girls from the bus.

“Next year we can prepare better, and we’ll invite lots of children. Alright, sweetheart?” Mama kissed me on the forehead.

“Yes, Mama.”

I didn’t care whether there would be other kids at my party. Not one bit. I had Stewart. I asked for more Stewart-themed gifts. And maybe an actual, real-life fox that could be named Stewart? I pictured chasing him around the house and smiled. But Mama put an end to that idea fairly quickly.

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“Rodion, sweetheart, don’t be silly. Foxes are wild animals. They aren’t meant to be living indoors.”

“But Mama, what about Stewart?” I protested, pointing at the console. “He’s just fine.”

“That’s just a game. He isn’t real!” Mama pecked me on the cheek and ran into the kitchen. She’d been washing fruit to prepare for the party.

Papa, like a real American dad, went to Giant Eagle and got large balloons with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it. We borrowed plastic chairs from Vlada, and Papa set them in our tiny backyard. We didn’t have a grill, but Mama made sausages and hamburgers on the stove that tasted delicious. And then Papa brought the cake. It was a huge, white sheet cake from Giant Eagle with blue, red and yellow balloons on it.

“Happy Birthday Ryder!” was written in the middle of this beauty in large blue letters. There was a smudge next to the name, but the frosting had been fixed, so the ‘R’ looked giant. As if my name was larger than life itself.

“Here you go, big guy!” Papa placed the cake in the middle of the kitchen table. As if by magic, he produced a package of six candles and stuck them into the cake. Everyone cheered when he lit the candles. And then they all sang, the guests, half of them in their accented English, the other in Russian, in a cacophony of sounds.

“Happy birthday, dear Ryder!”

“Happy birthday, dear Rodion.”

It was as if there were two people celebrating. Rodion and Ryder. I felt incredible. I blew out the candles with one large breath.

Everyone clapped.

“Did you make a wish?” Papa asked. I nodded. “Well, don’t tell anyone, or it won’t come true!”

Everyone laughed.

I had made a wish. It was to have Stewart the fox become real. I edged toward the console, so I could play my game, but then Grandma Oxana walked in.

“Surprise!” She held a package in her hands, which later turned out to be a sweater.

“Mother!” Papa let out a scream. “How did you get here?”

“Marina brought me.” A victorious smile appeared on Grandma’s face.

“Marina?” Confused expressions. A rustle of voices. No one knew anyone by that name.

“Come here, dear girl. Say hello.” Grandma, with a gesture of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, pushed forward a slouching woman about Papa’s age, maybe a little younger. Her face was sickly white, with the pallor of someone who rarely went outside. Watery eyes scanned the room for danger and settled on my mother.

“This is Marina.” Grandma murmured. “Your cousin.” She added after a pause.

More confused murmurs. The newcomer nodded vigorously and scratched her face. I noticed several deep marks peppering her cheeks. A scab on her chin.

“Nice to meet you.” Zhanna came up to Marina. “Would you like some cake?”

“Thank you. I prefer natural sugars.” Marina responded. “I’d like an apple, please.”

“Lydia, have you got any apples?” Zhanna asked. “Marina here wants one.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Mama walked up to them. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know Philip had other family in America.”

“Men aren’t good at these things.” Marina turned red. “Keeping track of blood relations.” She shrugged.

“Of course. How very true.” Mama nodded.

While this conversation was unfolding, Vlada was getting to know Grandma. It was an incredible match. They were like two gladiators in the arena, throwing punches, going for the kill.

Grandma and the new cousin were the first to leave. Then, Boris and Rita. Sergei and his two friends went out, and Papa went to ‘clear his head.’ Soon, it was Mama and her two friends, who stayed behind to help her clean up.

“Did you see what she was wearing?” I recognized Zhanna’s voice. “Who dresses like that for a kid’s birthday party?”

“I didn’t notice. Was too stressed out.” Mama responded.

“Those tiny shorts? And with her legs, you’d think she was fifteen.”

“I bet the men noticed.” Vlada added with consternation.

“I swear I saw Philip checking her out.” Zhanna raised her eyebrows for effect.

“Philip? But they’re related.” Mama shrugged.

“Kissing cousins, Lydia. That’s what they’re called. And who knows if she’s actually a cousin? The old witch may have brought her over just to muddy the waters.”

“That’s true. Philip never mentioned any relatives living here.” Mama frowned.

“You see? You better watch out. Men will go for anything easily available. And this woman seems desperate.”

“Desperate? What makes you say that? She seemed just a little awkward.” Mama shrugged.

“Don’t be so naïve, Lydia. Didn’t you see how she was scanning the room? She’s hungry for a guy.”

“Well, thank you for the warning.” Mama sighed. “As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with my mother-in-law. Now I got this cousin, too.”

“You’ll be alright.”