From Siberia With Love Read online

  The two faced each other at the entrance of the house, silently staring at one another.

  “It’s beautiful here,” he announced. “I can assure you, you won’t see such beautiful roses in Siberia.”

  “You haven’t seen everything, just the entrance.”

  “You don’t say? There’s more?” he asked naively.

  “The large garden is at the back of the house.”

  “Would you show me?”

  “From here, please.”

  She led him through the front porch to the yard and the garden, before they entered the house.

  The Weiss family garden had changed its appearance since Amalia, Edith’s late mother-in-law, had passed away. Nowadays, there was no one to take care of the fruit trees and cultivate it throughout the day. Most of the fruit trees had long been uprooted and mainly ornamental trees had remained. Those did not require any special cultivation, other than watering during the warm and dry summer months. A paved yard had been created in the garden, with a swing and an outdoor furniture set. Around the yard, a few trees remained – a large walnut tree that cast its shadow on the sitting corner, a lemon tree, a tangerine tree and an avocado tree, which had not born fruit in the past few years. There was also a pine tree adorned with large fresh needles in the springtime. It definitely did not belong among the tropical trees, and none of the house dwellers knew how it had grown in their backyard. The citrus trees were covered with tiny white flowers, which emitted an intoxicating smell. Between the whiteness of the flowers, an especially ripe tangerine that had remained from the previous season could be seen poking here and there. Alex smelled the flowers on the trees once more, the ones he was able to reach. He stretched his body and rose on tiptoes, bent, caught a small dried fruit and looked at Edith.

  “May I?” he smiled playfully.

  “You may,” she allowed him to pick it up. “You’ll never be able to peel it.”

  “Oh yes I will, just watch me.”

  He did not give up, he bit the hardened orange peel with his front teeth and managed to tear a piece of it, then he peeled it in its entirety.

  “It’s sweet, your tangerine,” he mentioned hungrily after he had tasted it, a yellowish drop of juice had remained on his chin.

  “Just eat it whole, you can’t divide it into slices anymore.”

  He swallowed the juicy little fruit in a single bite and trembled from the cold sensation. These were the twilight hours of cool pre-spring evening.

  “I suggest that we get inside, it’s getting cold out here,” she said and immediately turned toward the house.

  In the living room, she turned the heater on. The house was quiet and peaceful; they had it all to themselves that afternoon. She offered the guest a cup of coffee and he joined her in the kitchen.

  “How can I help you here?” he broke the silence.

  “Cut the cake.” She handed him a knife and two saucers made of ancient crystal she had prepared in advance. On her way from work, she bought a chocolate jelly roll in the bakery shop.

  “What will you drink? Instant coffee, black coffee or tea?”

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” he answered without hesitation. “Perhaps we could sit here in the kitchen, no need to go to the living room. It’s nice here; a special light comes in through the window.”

  And indeed, a pink shaded dusk light entered through the large kitchen window, the same light Amalia had used to wait for all day, to embroider gobelin tapestries to its light, after a day of housework. She would embroider until darkness fell, trapped in the dynamics of the setting sun’s light which changed momentarily. When it had become too dark for her to see, she would stop her embroidery work. She would then set aside the gobelin and turn on the electric lamp.

  The two sat next to a large table in the kitchen and sipped coffee from large china mugs.

  “Your coffee is delicious, really delicious,” he pointed out again gently.

  “I have a trick, I boil water with the milk, half and half. The boiled milk turns to foam while boiling and I pour it on the coffee.”

  “Tasty.” He took another sip, but didn’t touch the cake.

  “You should taste the cake as well, it's also good,” Edith offered with the passion of a hostess, realizing her guest was open to any of her suggestions.

  “I don’t eat chocolate cakes,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like chocolate, I avoid eating chocolate. During my childhood when I was still a little boy, my father used to bring home two-pound chocolate balls and I would devour them all.”

  “Your father worked in a chocolate factory?” she asked the obvious question.

  “My father was a pilot, a squadron commander,” he surprised her. “During the cold war years, the Red Army pilots were given chocolate balls for every operational flight. For emergencies, you see, if they would need to perform a parachute jump in the middle of the ocean or in enemy territory, so that the warriors would have condensed food. Falling into the enemy’s hands was not an option. In short, I’ve had enough chocolate to last a lifetime.”

  “Where in Russia did you come from?”

  “Isn’t it obvious by the color of my skin? A white-bluish guy like me could only come from Siberia, of course, the icebergs are reflected in my mirror.” Each sentence he said fell on her head like surprise-filled bombs.

  “Have you heard of the Novosibirsk State University? That’s where I studied in the Faculty of Science and from there I continued to study at the Krasnoyarsk State University. As a scientist, I’ve dealt mainly with research, and at the same time taught doctorate candidates as an instructor and lecturer,” he boasted so she would know who she was dealing with. So she would understand he was both beautiful and educated.

  “What exactly are you doing here in Israel? Tell me, what have you been doing for a living for the past two years? Excuse my question, but I still can’t quite figure you out. You appeared in our bank, at my workplace, that was where we first met. You showed up once or twice and then you disappeared without a trace. Then you’ve done the exact same thing at my gym. You can’t keep a steady job anywhere? You just start working and they fire you right away? From the bank and the gym? What’s going on here?” she teased him playfully, as if she was defending herself after he had introduced himself as a “big shot”.

  “You’re not right, I’m working very hard. I get up early in the morning and work till late at night to provide for my family. We have a cute nine-year old boy named Volodya. Grandfather and grandmother, my wife’s parents, are living with us.”

  “Go on, tell me some more,” she encouraged him. Let’s hear your Hebrew, tell me about your daily schedule.”

  “I get up at five o’clock in the morning and go out for a run.”

  “For a run?”

  Indulging in daily physical activities was still not very common in Israel in these days. But in his case, it was pretty obvious he had been working out. He had a great athletic body and possessed a very powerful presence.

  “Daily physical activity has been an integral part of my life since my childhood. When I was in school, I used to play hockey for the city’s youth team. Here in Israel, too, I start my day with a one-hour run, and at the end of the run I exercise in the neighborhood playground. Fresh and strong, I continue to work. The offices of our company, where I work, are located in Ramat Aviv. In order to get to work on time, I need to get out of the house before seven o’clock in the morning. After work, I continue to the Tel Aviv University, where I take a computer science course. The Jewish Agency arranged for some supplementary courses for new immigrants with an academic background and a PhD in natural sciences. There’s a lot of demand in the market for computer science-related manpower. I study three days a week after work, till ten at night, and I work a second job the three other days.”

  “At the gym. See, I already know something about you,” said Edith.

  “I’ve started working in the gym just recentl
y. Till now, I’ve been working as a mover,” he confessed.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit too much, my dear doctor? Working as a mover while already a member of a distinguished computer company?”

  “Why do you think it’s too much?” he asked with the naivety of a child. “I bought an old pickup truck with a friend of mine, and together, we’ve been doing moving jobs for new immigrants. Their furniture arrived in Israel long after they immigrated, in ships. Do you know the firm ‘Krasny Oktyabr’?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “As far as I know, Krasny Oktyabr is what they call the month in which the Bolshevik revolution had taken place in Russia. The Bolsheviks, led by Stalin, overthrew the regime of the Tsars and violently seized power.”

  “Krasny Oktyabr manufactures high quality pianos and musical instruments, made in the Soviet Union. We’ve carried many such heavy and luxurious pianos on our backs, me and my friend, to third or fourth floor apartments of new immigrants who lived in buildings without an elevator. When there weren’t any furniture to move, we went to supermarkets and delivered groceries to customers who didn’t want to carry their own shopping home.”

  The shocked Edith could not believe her ears and the shock could clearly be seen on her face.

  “Why not? Any job that pays money suits me just fine. I’m physically fit, so why not work as a mover? There’s always enough work for movers.”

  What could she say about his strange words? He convinced her, everything sounded convincing, coming out of his mouth.

  “Look, I hope to come back and work as a gym trainer soon. I also want to give service to the computer company customers. I have only one small but important problem – it turned out very quickly that I don’t speak the language well enough to be an instructor. My Hebrew doesn’t reflect who I am or my professional capabilities. You see, in order to give quality service to customers, I need to learn correct Hebrew.”

  “And… this is why you’re interested in learning Hebrew with me?” she interrupted him quickly.

  “Very interested,” he replied softly.

  The two sat at the corner of the large table in the middle of the kitchen. He simply took off his large leather jacket and hung it on the backrest of the chair he had sat in. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black buttoned shirt, which fitted him well. The dark colors emphasized his pale face. He sat, slightly away from the table with his legs spread in a wide and rigid sprawl, and it was evident that his shoulders and muscles and entire body were tense.

  Twilight time, the world gradually slowed down, the workday was done, yet it still wasn’t bedtime. One could now choose what to do with the rest of her day. Dress up nicely and do whatever the heart desires. Spend money in shopping malls in return for beautiful things, or lick ice-cream on the promenade facing the waves of the sea.

  It was her afternoon off, and Edith was housebound. In the kitchen, she hosted a gorgeous hunk who had suddenly dropped by for a visit from far-off Siberia.

  Alex told her interesting things, his powerful voice could clearly be heard throughout the entire house. With time, as the conversation lengthened, Edith noticed the fact that he was finding it difficult to speak fluently, often arresting in the middle of a sentence, seeking some Hebrew words to express himself and continue with his interesting stories. Each time he had made a mistake, Edith corrected him patiently and with bemused gentleness.

  He smiled at her, asked for her forgiveness, then turned serious again, as if he was struggling with himself, and remained seated like that in front of her, to conduct small talk. He wasn’t focused enough to think straight and to speak fluently in his new language. Something had purified the atmosphere between him and her from any logic. She turned him on, that much was obvious. The heat and sexual energy emanated from his powerful waist and flooded her and the rest of the house. He forced himself to sit quietly and struggled to restrain the desire bubbling up within him, not taking his blue eyes off her even for an instant.

  She did not mean for it to be this way, but apparently, he had had other ideas when he had arrived at her home. She felt a kind of pressure, a sexual tension she found to be overwhelming. She still did not intend to surrender to her desire for him, but he was used for other things in his meetings with women. Abruptly, he interrupted her words, even though he was the one who had spoken at length till then, he had given long speeches and she had attentively listened to him. He glanced at his watch and jumped on his elongated feet.

  “I beg your pardon, I really need to go. I need to drive to Bat-Yam to get my wife from work. I’m in a real hurry, I need to get out of here,” he said quickly.

  She rose after him; they stood like that, facing each other, when she offered him her hand, slightly insulted by his hasty farewell. At that moment, he inclined himself slightly toward her, gathered both her hands in his and raised them to his lips to kiss them.

  “Oh, Edith’ka.” With a deep sigh, he pronounced her name in a special way then sighed again heavily, with tempestuous emotion. He kissed her left hand then kissed her right hand without looking at her, blushing with excitement. With a single movement, he removed his leather jacket from the armrest and left without adding a single word. With his magic wand, he had transformed her quiet house into a palace of desire.

  Chapter 6

  Childhood at the Aviation Base on the Island of Sakhalin

  The planes would take off during the nights from the airport attached to the camp. After midnight, they rattled all the houses in the base with a tremendous noise. No one would sleep during the drills and false alarms. Ordered formations of three MiGs each, took off together, MiG 19 and MiG 21, and flew towards America’s east coast. Beneath the wing, next to the fuel tank, bombs were hidden. The Russians regularly patrolled the enemy’s skies to demonstrate their military presence.

  Yakov had met Vera during the summer vacation of 1950, at the beach in Odessa, on the shores of the black sea.

  Yakov, just like all the other soldiers who had returned from the front, found it difficult to communicate with a girl and love her. The Red Army had liberated Europe from the German conqueror. The soldiers advanced from village to village, from city to city, drinking vodka and indiscriminately raping anything that moved, young and old women alike.

  “There is no such thing as an ugly woman. However, there is such a thing as not enough vodka,” was the motto of the Russian soldiers, the great liberators of Eastern Europe.

  Unlike them, the German had never raped anyone, because they were afraid of contact with the foreigners. They had only murdered and burned.

  “Father, explain to me, why did you marry mother? You were used to something else, you didn’t want to marry and commit to a single woman,” Alex had once asked his father while he was on vacation, after he had told him about the atrocious acts soldiers in his army, the Red Army, had committed during the war, while conquering and liberating the countries of Eastern Europe from the Nazi conqueror.

  “I thought about it and realized I had no one left in this world, my entire family had been murdered. The illustrious Rosengard dynasty in the Ukraine had been completely wiped out. When my distant aunt in Odessa offered me a match, I agreed to meet my dear wife-to-be, your mother.”

  They met each other during dinner at Aunt Adel’s. Adel had invited her friend Deborah with her beautiful niece who had been spending the summer with her. The two friends from Odessa had planned a meeting between their young guests, Yakov and Vera, a Moscow University student. When the war broke out, Yakov was drafted to the air force while still an engineering student at the Kiev University at the time of the Soviet Nation’s greatest need. During his military service, he learned to fly and fight from the air, piloting the first MiG airplanes.

  He dropped bombs over Nazi Europe, as well as partisan paratroopers and guerilla warriors, in the conquered countries’ forests – reinforcements that aided Russian soldiers in the forests of Slovakia, Hungary and Romania.

  While young Yakov fought for the sov
iet nation and its leaders in the sky, people had been abandoned to the mercy of robbers and cutthroats on Ukraine’s frozen ground. Under the cover of war, Yakov’s entire family had been killed: Both parents, nine brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and dozens of cousins. Yakov had remained alone in this world. After he had discovered about the terrible massacre his family had undergone, he became the cruelest among the fighters. Each combat flight he participated in would become an insane military operation with many casualties. He himself initiated dogfights with enemy aircraft, threw bombs over SS headquarters, concentrations of enemy troops, trucks and jeeps that roamed the roads. He would return to base only after he had completely run out of ammunition, without even a single bomb or a single bullet remaining in his rifle cartridge.

  Yakov and Vera made a lovely couple, but they had to separate a short time after they had fallen in love. Yakov was called to urgently return to the air force base, his mother base. Vera, a beautiful girl, quickly forgot about Yakov who had left her so quickly. She remained surrounded by many suitors during her summer vacation on the shores of Odessa. During the days, the young people would sunbathe on the beach and swim in the black ocean and during the nights, they engaged in ballroom dancing in a fashionable club. Life after the war was a period of spiritual uplifting and creativity. People sang and danced on the streets, danced in the fields and dance clubs. A wondrous abundance of creativity had burst out. Russia’s famous songs were translated into all languages, and are sung and played on every stage to this very day – magical tunes and charming lyrics for songs that had mainly been written by Jewish composers in Moscow.