Sophia's Daughter
Susan sat on the sofa in the quarters that were to be her father's, resting. He was changing in the other room, and the two were going out to dinner. She felt so at peace, and yet so awkward. It had been a long time. Besides he didn't know why she had left. She didn't know how he would react when he found out. Andrei came out of the bedroom. He had freshened up. She rose and he followed silently. So much of their last few years had been silent was all Susan could think. Yet she didn't know what to say. They came to a small although fairly classy place and the two moved to the furthermost booth, both deciding on it silently, their brains working as one. Andrei pulled out his daughter's chair and smiled at her as she sat. There was such acceptance and love in that smile, it filled Susan. She felt like a five year old child being noticed by the man of her attention, her father. At the same time she felt so discouraged. There was so much formality. She remembered so many dinners at home, months, years on end when the two of them had sat down to dinner, together, alone. Not a word between them. As soon as dinner was over each would get up and leave. Unless they met looking for vodka, they would not see each other until the next day at dinner with the same routine. It had driven her to seek male attention in other ways, ways she didn't like to think about. The waiter came, both ordered, he came a few minutes later with their meal. They ate quietly. It was much like their time years ago. But it was different too, first they were both sober, second, the mourning they had been in had lessened. It was no longer their lives. They were no longer silent out of anger, hatred and grief, but more out of awkwardness and respect. There were barriers that could be dealt with. There was still hope.
Andrei rose from his paper work. It was near the end of a long day. He had seen his daughter yesterday after so long. It made him feel normal again. Feel something other than regret. She had had to work today. She had asked him to dinner to meet some friends and he had been relieved that she was not ashamed of him. He looked at the clock, 8 in the evening. Suzotchka would have just come off duty. She had asked her friends at 8:30. He would arrive a few minutes earlier he decided. He freshened up and gathered his two packages, one a bottle of fine wine, the other a small gift for Zotchka. It was a gift he had made himself. A beautiful necklace of blue carved stones. He had found the precious stones and after carving each by hand had forged them together, a labor of love. He loved to work with his hand. He loved to gift the things he had made and receive the things his loved ones made for him. He still cherished the worn prayer cloth Zotchka had made for him so many years ago. When he had gone into her room after so long he had found the one she had left to replace the one that had been old when she left. He had brought them both with him, his hands tracing the beautiful designs. She too had many things he had made her. Her writing case, of mahogany wood was a gift from him and her most cherished possession, although he did not know. He hesitated now, wondering if she would like it, if he should bother. If he shouldn't have bought some diamond set or something. It was too late now. He picked both up and left.
He rang her bell and within seconds, she opened the door, ushering him inside, thanking him for the packages. She was wearing her navy blue gypsy skirt of ankle length, navy sandals, a peasant blouse with printed flowers on it and the long navy vest. Her hair was partly bound. She motioned him to a seat and offered him a drink, it would be non alcoholic she explained as she moved about the kitchen, refusing his offers to help. One of her friends was a recovering alcoholic. The table was set for five. She was bringing the food onto the table when the bell chimed and she called for it to open. Her friends stepped inside. Andrei frowned. They were men. Three large men, although he was roughly their size and like his daughter in fit shape, indeed he could have fought them, he was not happy. Aside from issues of decorum, he could not help but remember a phrase his estranged mother used to say, that men and women can never be friends. He could not help but worry what they could want from her. There was no time to dwell on this as she introduced the men, Jeff, Michael and Stephen, and all five sat down to their meal.
