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

need girlfriend?’
    Harmon looked at me as I finished setting the table; I scowled.
    When he saw me frowning, he smiled and looked back at Olga, ‘I need girlfriend.’
    She cooed.
    I crossed my arms and bit my lip. This wasn’t at all how I’d imagined it.
     
    That evening, as usual, I waited for Olga. I expected her between nine and ten after her children fell asleep. But she didn’t come. At half past ten, I put together a plate of food and took it up to her flat. No one answered, though I heard faint voices. I left the food in front of her door. I waited every evening for two weeks, but she never came. Not even to give back our plate.
     
    Before returning to Haifa, Mr. Kessler asked me to give him and his three Israeli colleagues a tour of Odessa. He surely asked out of pity. Harmon was happy with Olga, if his baby talk and her giggles were anything to go by. Still the office atmosphere was tense. Harmon was terse, I nervous. Vita and Vera hovered in the hall, waiting for the next installment.
    Feeling like a prisoner unexpectedly released on parole, I stood on hustling bustling Soviet Army Street and raised my face to the sun. I closed my eyes and listened to the voice of the city: babushkas perched on overturned pails coaxing passers-by to buy sachets of sunflower seeds, ‘Come, come, a taste of sunshine!’; the gypsies begging in front of the sky blue Orthodox church; the whispers in the park across the street where people watched the old-timers stare at their queens and make their moves.
    ‘I didn’t realize chess was a spectator sport,’ Mr. Kessler said.
    His comment returned me from my reverie. Under a canopy of majestic acacias, I guided the men past the dark brick philharmonia (formerly the stock exchange – ours was founded in October of 1796, earlier than New York’s), past the apartment of the white witch who could cure any complaint (from a cold to a curse). Sharing my love of Odessa – the most beautiful, cosmopolitan city in the world – with foreign colleagues was the best part of my job. ‘Odessa is the humor capital of the former Soviet Union! It’s no coincidence that Odessa Day is on April the first. Odessans love wordplay and jokes. For example: In Russian, what is the plural of “man?”’
    The men looked at me expectantly.
    ‘Queue!’
    They laughed and continued to look at me with warm interest as I guided them down the boulevard of pastel neoclassical architecture.
    I continued: ‘Odessa was founded by Ekaterina the Great in 1794. Legend has it that she gave an order to name the city for Odysseus, the hero of the Greek epic. They even say that there was once an ancient Greek colony here. Visitors are surprised to learn that we Odessans speak our own blend of Russian, mixing in Yiddish phrases, a bit of Ukrainian, as well as a little German and French. Odessa was a part of a region called ‘Little Russia.’ But Odessa is not Russia! Russia is cold and hard – a nation of czars, madmen, and tyrants. Odessa is a warm, welcoming harbor that thrives thanks to the Black Sea – and the black market.’ Thinking of another black aspect of our history, I added, ‘Odessa is beyond the Pale.’
    ‘What does that mean?’ the youngest asked.
    ‘Didn’t you read any history books?’ Mr. Kessler responded. ‘Because of the Pale of Settlement, Jews weren’t allowed to settle in Moscow, St. Petersburg, or Kiev, so they came to Odessa.’
    The men looked at me with pity in their eyes. I straightened my spine and met their gaze. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.
    Four emaciated soldiers – they were no more than nineteen years old – wearing gray uniforms three sizes too large, approached us on the street. ‘Please, just a slice of bread,’ one said.
    I emptied my pockets of candy and apples, which I carried because in Odessa it was important to have something to smooth over bureaucratic difficulties. I called this goodwill; Jane called it bribes. She learned quickly