A coo in Tamara’s lap broke our kiss. I looked down at baby blue eyes that were full of curiosity. They moved all over my face in wonder as I searched hers. A smile I couldn’t control forced my lips to curl. Milena copied mine, hers was a toothless smile and held unbridled excitement. Tamara giggled as my heart melted. I was no longer Jonathan; I was Melina’s father. She and Tamara were now the most important people in the world.
I spent the next few minutes making Milena laugh. I never thought I would be one of those idiots spouting foolish gibberish to babies. Melina’s smile was just too precious, and her unpracticed toothless laugh made my heart sing. Tamara was biting her lower lip to control her smile as I played with our daughter. I loved life at that moment.
Tamara eventually made me lie down on the couch. I had Milena sitting on my stomach as Tamara slowly pulled the tissue I had forgotten about, out of my nose. She was muttering something about brothers as she struggled to undo what her mother had done. I had fun flexing my stomach, making Milena bounce that in turn, caused her to smile.
Dinner was a casual affair. I had refused to answer my mother’s two attempted calls. I was still angry at her and needed to stew a bit before I could forgive her. Yana served a very tasty sausage dish, laced with garlic, called Yershig. She served it with bottled water that seemed out of place. Viktoria was invited to help translate.
I spent most of the dinner trying to find out facts about Milena. Her birthday, how the birth went, and everything else I could gather with words. Milena slept fairly well and could almost make it through the night now.
I found myself slightly jealous when Tamara decided to feed Milena. Tamara was struggling to keep a straight face with Milena attached to her breast, as I failed miserably to hide my idiotic concern. It was such a beautiful thing ruined by my stupid brain.
I explained, as best I could, about my hospitalization. There were small bouts of words between Tamara and her mother as I explained. From what I could understand, Tamara was going through a litany of I-told-you-sos and Yana was admitting she had misjudged me. My parents had stirred up a hornet’s nest. I explained how Ruben had given me the clue that led me to them. They all agreed that Ruben was a better friend than Armenian language teacher.
I excused myself to use the restroom. One of the few things I could ask about in Armenian without error. Tamara showed me the way, leaving Milena in the arms of her mother.
The apartment only had one bathroom. The place was utilitarian and contained little in the way of conveniences. The perfect Soviet hovel. There was a toilet, tub, and sink. The tub was full of water with a handled pot sitting on it’s ledge. I looked at Tamara, who mimed lifting water from the tub with the pot and filling the toilet tank. She turned on the faucets, and they gurgled a bit, but no water came out, showing me the lack of plumbing. She mimed washing her hands and using the pot to rinse them off. Her motions were quite clear. Her words of explanation were lost on me. I wondered how they got water into the tub if the plumbing didn’t work.
Tamara moved over to the corner and crossed her arms across her body and smiled. It took me a moment to realize that she intended to stay as I relieved myself. In my best Armenian, I told her to get the heck out as kindly as possible. She shook her head and laughed. I could see the moment on the mountain in her eyes when she was forced to pee in the hovel with me present. This was some kind of loving revenge. If I remembered, I had peed also in that hovel. Of course, she went first. I shrugged my shoulders and unzipped my pants. I could hear her snickering as I emptied my bladder into the toilet, keeping my back to her as best I could. I couldn’t help it, as strange as it was, it made me smile. When I was done, and parts put away, Tamara was biting her bottom lip thinking herself funny. It made me laugh, which set her off as well. We needed it.
I flushed and refilled the toilet tank. I then washed my hands as Tamara dumped water over them. As I was drying them on a towel, Tamara scooted up behind me, her body molding to mine as she whispered something in my ear. I heard the word love mixed with others, her hands roaming over my chest emphasized the words. I turned in her arms, and we kissed passionately.
“I change,” Tamara said, in simple Armenian I could understand, “Milena change me.” She took my hand and placed it on her stomach and moved it along her hips. I could hear a little anxiety in her words. Silly fears about the changes in her body and my reaction to them. I smiled into her lips and let my hand travel to her butt. I pulled her in close and let my tongue wake up the feelings I had been waiting a year to feel.
“Beautiful,” I whispered, unable to express much more in Armenian. Her smile was all the confirmation I needed. The mother of my child desired me. A part of my body was suddenly concerned about the sleeping arrangements for the night. In some ways, surviving on a mountain top is easier than normal life. In other ways, Milena existed. I greedily wanted both.
Dessert was something called Paklava. A pastry with a gut of cheese that I found very tasty. It went well with the potent coffee Yana served.
I asked Viktoria about the water and received a lesson in Armenian history. An earthquake destroyed most of the infrastructure in the late 1980s. Although electricity had been fully restored long ago, the water systems had yet to be fully rebuilt. The Kurkjian buildings had water from seven at night until three in the morning. There wasn’t enough pressure to feed the whole city at the same time. Everyone bathed at seven, and then they filled the tub and some jugs for the next day. To them, it was just part of life, a minor inconvenience.
I was holding Milena, watching her sleep in my arms when a discussion erupted between Tamara and her mother. Viktoria looked away as if it wasn’t happening. Tamara’s brothers were trying not to laugh. I heard my name in the mix, and I could see Yana trying to make a point and Tamara putting her foot down. When it was over, Tamara looked at me.
“I go you tonight,” Tamara said slowly, in Armenian. Yana looked less than pleased. I was more than pleased. Tamara had a stubborn look on her face. I knew it was for her mother, but it also dared me to say no. I smiled, the same smile I used on the mountain when we were thinking the same thing. I loved the smile I got in return. I looked down at Milena. “Both my loves are with me tonight, my beautiful one,” I whispered.
Viktoria called us a cab. Tamara went downstairs to pack up a few things. She was staying with a grandmother I had yet to meet. From what I could discern, her pregnancy caused friction, and the family thought it best that she and her mother had some distance. Yana shooed the brothers away but kept Viktoria to translate.
“You leave?” Yana asked through Viktoria.
“Leave?” I pondered, “Leave for where?”
“Leave Tamara and baby. Go home,” Yana clarified.
“I just found them,” I said, my anger rising, “no one is taking them away now.” Viktoria waved her hands, trying to erase her statement. She thought for a moment then started again.
“You stay with Tamara long time,” Victoria restated. Yana was looking confused. They were asking if I had intentions of leaving Tamara. Yana didn’t like Tamara staying with me. She was trying to figure out if I was in it for the long haul.
“Forever,” I said. Viktoria didn’t understand the word. “Long time,” I restated, “til I die.” Her eyes widened, and she translated, hopefully correctly, to Yana. Yana looked at me when Viktoria finished.
“Tamara my baby,” Yana said. It needed no translation.
“Milena my baby,” I said, raising my daughter from my lap, “Tamara my love.” Yana eyes looked me over as she assessed the truth of my words. Finally, she nodded and reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew my ring box. She pushed across the table to me.
“You marry?” Yana asked.
“If Tamara say yes,” I answered in Armenian before Viktoria could translate. Yana smiled and rattled off words that left my realm of understanding.
“She say,” Viktoria said with a smile, “If Tamara say no, you see her. She change Tamara mind.” I laughed as I took the ring box. I had a future mother-in-law in my corner. Right then, I liked her more than my mother.
“She think maybe you not stay with Tamara,” Viktoria said unprompted. They were Viktoria’s words and not Yana’s. She was becoming a friend. I still had some trust to earn. I gave her a smile.
“I’ll never leave Tamara again,” I said. Viktoria smiled back. I think she was Tamara’s friend as well.
Tamara returned with Garik. Between the two of them, there were two suitcases and two gym bags. My eyes widened. Tamara smiled at my surprise.
“Me,” Tamara said, indicating her one small suitcase, “Melina,” she continued, pointing at the rest. I looked down at my sleeping daughter and laughed. She fit in the notch of my arm yet had more stuff than Tamara and I combined. At least Yana was laughing as well. I guess she had a little more trust in her daughter.
The trip back to the hotel went without incident, and I think I finally got the tip right. A calm smile and the tip of an imaginary hat from the cabby confirmed it. I had a crib brought up to the room, declined the fourth call from my mother, and brought Tamara to the first real room we would share together.
Tamara worked quickly, setting the crib to rights and organizing Melina’s stuff while I entertained Milena on the bed. I found out that she was rather ticklish. I would run my finger lightly along the instep of her tiny feet, and she would laugh and kick at me. It was most entertaining.
Tamara sat down behind me, leaning her head over my shoulder and watched as I teased our daughter. I could feel her smile on my cheek as Milena and I played. Arms came around me, hugging me close. Shivers ran down my spine when I felt lips kissing lightly, just below my ears. It was arousing, but I could feel her desire only to convey love, not excite. Not, at least, while Milena was awake.