Heads You Win Read online

  “It’s an airplane,” he said. “It’s landing at JFK, which is only a few miles away.” A second plane appeared, which seemed to Alex to be pursuing the one in front. “You’ll see one every couple of minutes,” said Dimitri.

  Elena was more interested in checking out each cafe and restaurant they passed. She couldn’t believe how many people were having breakfast. How could they possibly afford it? She wondered what a hamburger was, and who Colonel Sanders could be. The only colonel she’d ever known was the dock commandant, and he certainly didn’t own a restaurant. And Coke? Wasn’t that something you put on the fire at night to keep warm?

  After a few blocks they came to a street market, where Dimitri stopped to chat with a couple of traders he clearly knew. He selected some potatoes, carrots, and a cabbage, which he paid for with cash. Elena picked up some of the fruits and vegetables displayed on the next stall that she’d never seen before. She smelled them, and tried to memorize their names.

  “How many would you like?” asked the stallholder.

  Elena dropped the avocado and quickly moved on.

  Dimitri moved across to another stall, and was happy to take Elena’s advice before he chose a chicken, which the stallholder dropped into a brown paper bag.

  As they left the market, Dimitri handed a coin to a boy who was yelling something at the top of his voice that Alex couldn’t make out.

  “More Yanks killed in Vietnam!”

  Alex was surprised that the boy selling the newspapers was younger than he, and was not only allowed to handle money, but to work alone.

  They turned a corner into a side street, not quite as busy, not quite so noisy, with rows of large houses on either side. Could it be possible that Dimitri lived in one of them?

  “I live at number 47,” he said. Alex was impressed, until Dimitri added, “I rent the basement.” After a few more yards he led them down a short flight of steps. He put a key in the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

  Elena followed him into a sparsely furnished front room, and wasn’t in any doubt that Dimitri was a bachelor.

  “Where are we going to live?” Elena asked, after Dimitri had shown her around.

  “Perhaps you could stay with me until you find your own place,” said Dimitri. Elena didn’t look convinced. “I have an extra mattress, so you can take the spare room, while Alex sleeps on the sofa. As long as he takes his boots off.”

  “Thank you,” said Alex, who felt almost anything would be an improvement on a wooden deck that never stopped pitching and tossing.

  Finally Dimitri took Elena into the kitchen. Elena emptied the chicken and vegetables they’d bought at the market onto the kitchen table, then set about preparing the meal. The sink had two taps, and she scalded herself when she turned on the first one. She was even more surprised when Alex opened a small white box and peered inside.

  “It’s a refrigerator,” Dimitri explained. “It makes it possible to keep food for several days.”

  “I’ve seen a fridge before,” said Elena, “but never in someone’s home.”

  Elena rolled up her sleeves, and an hour later placed three laden plates on the kitchen table, as if she was still serving officers. Once she’d sat down, she couldn’t stop talking about their life in Russia. It quickly became clear how much she was missing her homeland.

  “That was the best meal I’ve had in years,” said Dimitri, as he licked his lips. “You won’t find it hard to get a job in this town.”

  “But where do I start?” Elena asked as Alex filled the sink with warm water and began to wash the dishes.

  “With the Post,” said Dimitri, reverting to English.

  “The post?” said Elena. “But I’m not expecting any letters.”

  “The Brighton Beach Post,” said Dimitri, picking up the newspaper he’d bought from the boy on the street. “Every day it has a jobs section,” he said, turning the pages until he reached the classified advertisements. He ignored accountancy, business opportunities, car sales, only stopping when he reached catering. His finger moved down the column until he came to “Cooks.”

  “Cook wanted in Chinese restaurant,” he read out. “Must speak Mandarin.” They all burst out laughing. “Pastry chef required in an Italian restaurant” sounded more promising, until he added, “must be fully trained sous-chef. Italian preferred.” He moved on. “Pizza cook—”

  “What’s a pizza?” asked Elena, as Alex drained the sink and rejoined them at the table.

  “It’s the latest thing,” said Dimitri. “A dough base, with different toppings, for variety.” He checked the location. “And it’s only a couple of blocks away, so we could call by tomorrow morning. They’re offering a dollar an hour, so you could make as much as forty dollars a week while you look for something better. They’ll be lucky to get you,” he added.

  Elena didn’t reply, because her head was resting on a table that didn’t move. She was fast asleep.

  * * *

  “The first thing we’re going to have to do,” said Dimitri after they’d finished breakfast, “is get you some new clothes. No one’s going to give you a job dressed like that.”

  “But we haven’t got any money,” protested Elena.

  “That won’t be a problem. Most of the stallholders are happy to give credit.”

  “Credit?” said Elena.

  “Buy now, pay later. Everyone in America does it.”

  “I don’t,” said Elena firmly, placing her hands on her hips. “Earn now, and only buy when you can afford it.”

  “Then we’ll have to try the Goodwill shop on Hudson. Maybe they’ll be willing to give you something for nothing.”

  “Charity is for those in real need, not for those capable of doing a day’s work,” said Elena, reverting to her native tongue.

  “I don’t think you’ll have much chance of being offered a job even in a pizza parlor if you look like a Russian refugee who’s just got off the boat,” said Dimitri.

  Alex nodded his agreement.

  Elena was finally silenced.

  Dimitri took a five-dollar note out of his pocket and handed it to Elena.

  “Thank you,” said Elena, reluctantly accepting it. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.”

  “The Goodwill store opens at nine,” said Dimitri. “We must be waiting outside at one minute to.”

  “Why so early?” asked Alex, determined only to speak English.

  “A lot of people clear out their wardrobes at the weekend, so the best deals are always on a Monday morning.”

  “Then let’s get going,” said Alex, who couldn’t wait to be back on the street. He wanted to see if the boy was still standing on the corner selling newspapers, because he hoped his mother would also allow him to look for a job, perhaps even as a trader on one of the stalls.

  “And then we must look for a good school that will take Alex,” said Elena, dashing her son’s hopes.

  “But I want to start working,” pleaded Alex, “so we can both earn some money.”

  “If you hope to end up with a worthwhile position, and eventually earn a proper salary,” said Elena, “you’ll have to go back to school and make sure you’re offered a place at university.”

  Alex couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he knew this was the one thing his mother wouldn’t compromise on.

  “Then you’ll have to make an appointment with the education officer at City Hall,” said Dimitri. “But not before you both get some new clothes and Elena’s landed that job in the pizza parlor, so we’d better get going.”

  Once they were back on the street, Alex tried to take in everything that was going on around him. He wondered how long it would be before, like Dimitri, he too melted into the background.

  One of the first things Alex noticed was that not all of the men were wearing a suit and hat, while many of the women were dressed in brightly colored clothes, some of them in dresses that didn’t even cover their knees. The paper boy was standing on the same street corner, shou