Chapter One Thousand Six Hundred Thirteen
7th February 1964
Moscow, Russia
There were times when Anya was reminded of exactly who she was as she tried to put her thoughts about the last month’s two key events in the letter that she was writing to Kiki.
The first thing that had happened was Gia and Fyodor had come home from the hospital with Alexei, Anya had been dreading what would happen when they did. She had been unable to identify it for years, but recently Anya had learned that it was common for orphans of live with the fear that they could lose everything again throughout their lives because it had already happened to them once. Because she was nineteen and going to University, what did Gia still owe her?
The worry had consumed Anya that because Gia had a baby of her own that there would be no place for her. Despite the assurances that nothing would change that she had received, Anya knew that things would have to change. That was why when she had been watching Gia and Fyodor carrying a bundle wrapped in a white blanket, she had been certain that the axe was about to fall. Over the next several minutes, Anya had watched absolutely consumed with anxiety.
Finally, Gia walked in talking to the baby. “This is your big sister Anya, Alexei” She said, “She’s being silly and thinks that we are going to kick her out now that you are here.”
“I don’t think that” Anya said, even though she feared that they would do exactly that. She knew it was irrational. But whoever said that fear was rational?
“Here Anya” Gia said handing her Alexei, “You should get acquainted with your little brother.”
Over the next minutes, Gia had stood there and delightedly showed Anya how to hold Alexei. She was terrified at how small and delicate he was in her arms, her fear of getting thrown out was replaced with the fear that she might drop him. The idea that she would ever have a little brother like how Gia was telling her that Alexei was seemed like an impossible fantasy. Then Fyodor walked in and took a photograph of them together, probably catching the surprised look on Anya’s face in the process.
“You will always be a part of this family” Gia had said to her right as Fyodor had snapped the photograph.
The second thing that had happened was that the birth of Alexei had resulted in a visit by the Patriarch of Moscow who had been understandably interested in the spiritual growth of Alexei in the coming years. While he was there, he had known who Anya was when he had spoken with her. He had told her that the Abbess of the Yelizarov Convent had asked how she was doing after she had heard about Anya getting injured.
It seemed strange that the Abbess who Anya remembered as a stern authority figure in her childhood would show that much concern years after she had left the orphanage at the convent. Supposedly, Anya had an open invitation if she wanted to visit Pskov next summer. Would it be the same as it had been when she had been a child until she had left with Gia to start a new life in Berlin? Or would it be different? Anya wasn’t sure which possibility frightened her more.
Writing a letter to Kiki was an effort to put all of that into perspective. Though as Anya was discovering, messy emotions made perspective elusive at times. Looking up, she noticed that Ivan the Fool was sitting on the edge of her desk, watching the movement of her pen intently. She wondered if she ought to ask in her letter about how Ivan’s mother Hera had adjusted to moving with Kiki to Jena. Kiki always liked writing about her animals, so it would be a fun thing to include.
Idlewild International Airport, New York
Having the name of their band mentioned by Kiki on the Tonight Show months earlier had resulted in increased interest in the Moondogs in America. At least that was what their Manager said. It was sort of difficult to tell as they trudged from the airliner to the terminal after such a long flight. John was being particularly cynical as he tended to be when they were decidedly on the back foot. No matter what anyone said, no one in America had the foggiest notion of who they were yet.
“They had planned on having a few thousand screaming girls here to greet us” John said, “But they couldn’t make it on account of the weather.”
It was a cold afternoon, Paul conceded that much. Still though.
“A few thousand screaming girls?” Paul asked, “That’s laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”
“Can’t blame a fellow for having a dream” John said.
Everyone snickered at that. They all knew the sort of greeting that they normally might have gotten couldn’t be further from that.
Brian, their Manager, had promised that they would play a few shows in New York, Chicago, San Francisco and Los Angeles after a television appearance or two. It was all about building up buzz according to him. To Paul however, this trip was starting to have the same feel as the shows they had done early on in Liverpool where the only audience they had were the other bands playing in the club that night and their girlfriends. Paul was inclined to be pragmatic here. If America wasn’t ready for them yet, then that was America’s loss.
