The Cosmopolitans by Nadia Kalman Read Free Book Online

allotment of Peace.) I treat history like my grandmother told me to treat dogs, wolves, inspectors, anti-Semites and bees: I don’t bother it, it doesn’t bother me. You would be happier if you did the same.
    The Molochniks, condensed:
    Osip’s Y2K team dissolved, and another round of layoffs spared him, but took his pension. Stalina got into a long feud with a shiftless sample provider and was deemed insufficiently nurturing by her laboratory director.
    Katya ran away to California, because California was mellow and no one there would care about her voice.
    Norwalk Technical College kicked Roman out for cheating. He hadn’t bothered to hide it: in Nizhny Tagil, everyone had done the same. None of the Chaikins were very surprised. Soon afterwards, Leonid received a promotion and a wonderful new haircut, memorialized by his mother in a dozen photographs.
    Milla found a job, right out of college, right in Stamford. Her parents were as happy as she’d hoped, the happiest they’d been since Katya had left.
    After many, many visa delays, Pratik Rehman, an exchange student from Bangladesh, arrived at the Molochnik household.
    Yana said she was disenchanted with academia, and enrolled in graduate school for education.
    In the wake of the events, anything was possible. Despite Pratik’s generous and repeated geography lessons, certain members of the Neighborhood Watch continued to ask him about Afghanistan. Katya finally called: she was fine, if they’d just stop looking, she would be fine. She was taking classes, she was doing so much better than she had in Stamford. If they’d just stop looking, she’d call again. Following the example of an influential trance musician who had just done the same, Malcolm proposed to Milla.

     
     
     
     
    Stalina
     
     
    Milla and Malcolm sat on the couch, looking at the fireplace, the lamps, everywhere but at Osip and Stalina, like coquettes in an Ostrovsky play. “I’ve been wondering,” Malcolm said, petting the stubble on his right cheek, “What’s going on with the statues?”
    Stalina glanced at the Art Deco figurines arrayed on the bookshelf behind her. Perhaps Malcolm’s parents were able to afford more elaborate pieces, but she doubted they possessed her aesthetic courage. Some of her figurines danced in the nude. The Soul said, “ This rogue is challenging you in your own home. ”
    “No, not those,” Malcolm said, laughing. “The ones outside. Yeah, like driving in today, I saw this girl in a leather jacket, right by the mall. But then, I looked, and she was a statue.”
    “I told him they’re everywhere,” Milla said breathlessly.
    “I do not know,” Stalina said. Malcolm hadn’t driven in to talk such irunda , nonsense.
    “Dad? Do you know why they’re here?” Milla asked.
    “I am hearing maybe something to do with developer’s son.” Osip, today, would not make a joke about property values: he understood the seriousness of the situation.
    “ She is as our fertile land after rainfall, or before appending Finland, ” the Soul said. Today, it smelled of flowery perfume, the kind of perfume that some men would buy and drink. Was it possible that Milla, with all the excellent American birth control available, had still somehow managed to get herself pregnant?
    “Okey-dokey,” Stalina said, bracing herself.
    “We got engaged a week ago,” Milla said, glancing at Malcolm with every other word.
    “And you are in the position?” Everyone, including Osip, looked at her strangely. She’s been trying to translate from Russian, to avoid having to use the only American way of saying it she remembered, a crude colloquialism: “You are sticking up?” Osip gave her a reproachful look.
    “Mom, no,” Milla said, and then to Malcolm, “She means ‘up the stick.’” She and Malcolm giggled because it was very funny that she had such a stupid mother. As soon as she noticed the look on Stalina’s face, though, Milla stopped. She probably hadn’t meant