Moonlight in Odessa by Janet Skeslien Charles Read Free Book Online Page A

he’ll never want me! I’m not smart and I’m no beauty like you. With your tiny waist and big green eyes, it’s no wonder you got the job!’ She sighed. ‘Who would want me, a single mother with a flabby gut? No one, that’s who.’
    ‘No, Olga, no! The boys at school always preferred you.’
    She smiled at the memory. ‘You were just a skinny splinter with your nose in a book. Look at you now. Shiny dark hair, brows like an archangel’s wings. A mouth made for kissing, even if you only use it for arguing. If only you’d shut it, they’d be lining up to date you. Look at your skin with no stretch marks! How can I compete? As far as romance goes, I’m on death row.’
    Yet another thing we had in common.
    ‘Olga, you’re talented and pretty. Men always like curves.’
    ‘They go for your bony ass, too.’
    We laughed together.
    ‘All I want is a sliver of security,’ she said. ‘Is that too much to ask?’
    I shook my head. We sat in silence.
    Boba came into the kitchen and brewed us a pot of chamomile tea. Olga looked at the cup as if she had never seen one before. When she had drunk her tea and made up her mind, she simply asked, aware of my grandmother, ‘What would I wear?’
    ‘I might have something,’ I said to acknowledge her response.
    She ransacked my armoire with glee. ‘You have better things than the bazaar! Such quality!’ She tore out dresses then ran to the mirror and held them in front of her. Finally, we found a skirt she could hem. Olga looked longingly at my sandals, but I wore a size ten, she a six. Olga could never fill my shoes.
    Perusing the Western perfumes that clients had given me as thank you gifts, she grabbed a bottle of Dior off the shelf and said, ‘I’ll take it for luck.’
     
    For the first time ever, Harmon was already in his office when I arrived. He’d left a ten-page logistics report on my desk with a note to translate it into Russian. I started immediately, hating the strange tension, but relieved that I didn’t have to deal with him. At 10.30, I heard him get up for his morning coffee, then plunk back down in his black ergonomic chair. Perhaps he was as embarrassed as I was – he didn’t even come out to look over my shoulder like he usually did.
    When Olga walked though the door at noon, her squeaky voice cut through the tension. ‘Such a beautiful office. Superior light fixtures, satiny paint. Look at these bare walls! You need some artwork. Ooh tee ! What a fancy desk!’ She caressed my cordless phone and the snowy white paper, surely thinking of her rotary phone with the beat-up cord and the rough, gray Soviet paper she used as her canvases. I could almost see Harmon’s nose twitch at my perfume – it smelled like she’d used the whole bottle. I went to the door of his office, but did not cross the threshold. ‘Olga and I would like you to join us for lunch.’
    Would Olga change her mind? What would she think of him? When he came out of his office, she greeted him effusively with a kiss on his cheek. ‘Daria has told me so much about you – such a kind and generous gentleman.’
    When I translated Olga’s words, Harmon looked at my face sharply, expecting to find irony. He found none – I had told no one about the incident.
    ‘How many times have I told Daria she’s lucky to work for such a boss?’ I translated the words, but this time Harmon’s eyes remained fixed on Olga’s face, feasting on her plump raspberry lips. She took off her rain coat to reveal velvety thighs in my blue skirt and a silver lamé halter that barely contained her breasts. Harmon ushered her into the boardroom and seated her on his right side, where I usually sat. When I returned from the kitchen with the hummus, pitas, crab, and avocados, Harmon was leaning over Olga, practically sitting in her lap. He’d taken off his glasses and I could see that his eyes sparkled with interest.
    ‘You nice,’ she said, trailing her finger along his cheek. ‘I like. You