lukewarm tea and cookies the consistency of hockey pucks.
“You like?” she asked as I took my first nibble.
“Dee-lish,” I replied, trying not to chip a molar.
At last, the ghastly dinner ground to a halt, and I asked if I could help with the dishes.
“No,” Minna grunted. “You too clumsy.” She glared at a tiny stain on the tablecloth near my wine glass. “You spill wine.”
I certainly did not spill any wine. That spot, I can assure you, was there when I sat down, along with several other colorful specimens. But I was not about to argue with the woman. After all, she had just fed me dinner. True, it was a spectacularly awful dinner. But it was dinner nonetheless.
Instead, I put on my most gracious smile and said, “I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Not to worry. I’ll send you cleaning bill.”
Oh, for crying out loud. First Mrs. Hurlbut’s tulips. Now a dry-cleaning bill. This date was costing me a fortune.
My smile slightly less gracious, I told her to go ahead and send me the bill.
“Such a wonderful meal, Aunt Minna!” Vladimir said, patting his flat tummy. Amazingly, he’d packed away quite a lot of pizza. “I go take Jaine home now for huggy kissy.”
In your dreams, buster.
He dashed off to get the car keys, while Minna retreated to the kitchen to do the dishes. Boris had long since returned to his soccer game, which left me alone with Sofi. Who now got up from the table and, without any preamble, grabbed me by the collar of my sweater.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I protested. “Go easy on the sweater, willya? It’s fifty-five percent cashmere.”
But Sofi didn’t care about my sweater’s cashmere content.
With unibrow furrowed most menacingly, she muttered, “You stay away from Vladimir. Otherwise I break your kneecaps with my bare hands.”
And I knew she could do it, too. I’d seen the way she’d pulverized those walnuts.
“No need to resort to violence, Sofi,” I said, trying to wriggle free from her grasp. “I have no designs on your cousin whatsoever.”
“I love my Vladdie with all my heart.” Her squinchy eyes glowed with what I assumed was a reasonable facsimile of affection. “And no skinny American tootsie is going to steal him away!”
“Not a problem,” I assured her. “He’s all yours.”
“Good,” she said, at last letting me go.
As she stomped off to the living room, no doubt to resume her walnut-cracking duties, I stared after her, boggled. To think there was a woman on this planet who actually found Vladimir attractive.
You could’ve knocked me over with a chuchvara.
Dinner Chez Minna having limped to a close, I climbed into the rustmobile gratefully.
The sound of its asthmatic engine coughing to life was music to my ears. Before long, I told myself, this hellish evening would be over and I would be cuddled in bed with Prozac and a comforting pint of Chunky Monkey.
Or not.
We weren’t halfway home when the rustmobile sputtered to a halt.
“Not to worry, my beloved Jaine,” Vladimir assured me. “This happens all the time. I just have to make sweet talk to her.”
“Sweet talk?”
“Nice car,” he said, patting Old Rusty on the dashboard. “Pretty car. Such pretty color. Such strong engine. And horn like the angels play. You start for Vladimir. Okey doke?”
This nauseating chatter went on for several minutes. Frankly, I was surprised he didn’t write the darn thing a poem.
But the rustmobile, much like yours truly, was immune to Vladimir’s charms. No matter how much Vladimir whispered sweet nothings, the car refused to start.
With a sigh, I took out my cell phone and called Triple A.
“Who you calling?” Vladimir asked.
“Someone to start the car.”
Vladimir’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You know this guy? You make huggy kissy with him?”
“No, Vladimir. I don’t know him and I haven’t made huggy kissy with him.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Well, okay,” he grunted, not quite
“You like?” she asked as I took my first nibble.
“Dee-lish,” I replied, trying not to chip a molar.
At last, the ghastly dinner ground to a halt, and I asked if I could help with the dishes.
“No,” Minna grunted. “You too clumsy.” She glared at a tiny stain on the tablecloth near my wine glass. “You spill wine.”
I certainly did not spill any wine. That spot, I can assure you, was there when I sat down, along with several other colorful specimens. But I was not about to argue with the woman. After all, she had just fed me dinner. True, it was a spectacularly awful dinner. But it was dinner nonetheless.
Instead, I put on my most gracious smile and said, “I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Not to worry. I’ll send you cleaning bill.”
Oh, for crying out loud. First Mrs. Hurlbut’s tulips. Now a dry-cleaning bill. This date was costing me a fortune.
My smile slightly less gracious, I told her to go ahead and send me the bill.
“Such a wonderful meal, Aunt Minna!” Vladimir said, patting his flat tummy. Amazingly, he’d packed away quite a lot of pizza. “I go take Jaine home now for huggy kissy.”
In your dreams, buster.
He dashed off to get the car keys, while Minna retreated to the kitchen to do the dishes. Boris had long since returned to his soccer game, which left me alone with Sofi. Who now got up from the table and, without any preamble, grabbed me by the collar of my sweater.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I protested. “Go easy on the sweater, willya? It’s fifty-five percent cashmere.”
But Sofi didn’t care about my sweater’s cashmere content.
With unibrow furrowed most menacingly, she muttered, “You stay away from Vladimir. Otherwise I break your kneecaps with my bare hands.”
And I knew she could do it, too. I’d seen the way she’d pulverized those walnuts.
“No need to resort to violence, Sofi,” I said, trying to wriggle free from her grasp. “I have no designs on your cousin whatsoever.”
“I love my Vladdie with all my heart.” Her squinchy eyes glowed with what I assumed was a reasonable facsimile of affection. “And no skinny American tootsie is going to steal him away!”
“Not a problem,” I assured her. “He’s all yours.”
“Good,” she said, at last letting me go.
As she stomped off to the living room, no doubt to resume her walnut-cracking duties, I stared after her, boggled. To think there was a woman on this planet who actually found Vladimir attractive.
You could’ve knocked me over with a chuchvara.
Dinner Chez Minna having limped to a close, I climbed into the rustmobile gratefully.
The sound of its asthmatic engine coughing to life was music to my ears. Before long, I told myself, this hellish evening would be over and I would be cuddled in bed with Prozac and a comforting pint of Chunky Monkey.
Or not.
We weren’t halfway home when the rustmobile sputtered to a halt.
“Not to worry, my beloved Jaine,” Vladimir assured me. “This happens all the time. I just have to make sweet talk to her.”
“Sweet talk?”
“Nice car,” he said, patting Old Rusty on the dashboard. “Pretty car. Such pretty color. Such strong engine. And horn like the angels play. You start for Vladimir. Okey doke?”
This nauseating chatter went on for several minutes. Frankly, I was surprised he didn’t write the darn thing a poem.
But the rustmobile, much like yours truly, was immune to Vladimir’s charms. No matter how much Vladimir whispered sweet nothings, the car refused to start.
With a sigh, I took out my cell phone and called Triple A.
“Who you calling?” Vladimir asked.
“Someone to start the car.”
Vladimir’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You know this guy? You make huggy kissy with him?”
“No, Vladimir. I don’t know him and I haven’t made huggy kissy with him.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Well, okay,” he grunted, not quite
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