26 A Different World
TWENTY-SIX
A Different World
I was nervous about meeting Vitali and Natalia.
It had been hard enough breaking through the language barrier with Wlad, whose English wasn’t terrific.
In fact, I’d suggested he take English and elocution lessons, and he’d agreed to them, telling me it was a brilliant idea.
But whether Vitali and I would be able to speak comfortably in English was a big unknown—as was whether he’d be interested in his brother’s girlfriend.
Wlad and I had also never appeared in public before, let alone on a red carpet like the gala would have.
I decided to wear a strapless, emerald green dress, and I settled on my tallest platform heels so our height difference wouldn’t be so glaring.
Then I told myself this was just another day out.
Maybe I didn’t know anyone, and maybe I wasn’t sure how to act—or if I should blend into the shadows—but I could do this.
I just needed a little reassurance from Wlad.
“I’m a little nervous about meeting everyone,” I said. “I’m just some American woman who’s thirteen years younger than you. Am I going to make a fool of myself?”
Wlad put his hands on both of my shoulders. “Do not worry,” he said, looking me right in the eyes. “Be yourself. You are the salt and pepper in my soup. You are the seasoning.”
I breathed a big sigh of relief, then hugged Wlad like my life depended on it.
Not long after, Wlad and I walked into the gala and made a beeline toward Vitali and his wife, Natalia.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, shaking Vitali’s hand.
“And it is nice to meet you,” he answered.
Vitali and Wlad could have passed for twins even though there was a five-year age difference between them.
Vitali was strong and commanding, just like Wlad, and I could sense the warmth between them immediately.
Wlad had told me they’d always been close.
Next to Vitali stood a strikingly beautiful woman with dark brown hair and eyes and perfect cheekbones.
She was carrying a small boy, and by her side was a slightly older girl and another boy who looked to be about ten.
“This is Natalia, my wife,” said Vitali. “Natalia, this is Hayden.”
I shook her hand, and she smiled at me. It was the loveliest, warmest smile I’d experienced in years.
“And who’s this?” I asked, motioning toward the children.
Natalia beamed with pride. “This is Yegor, who is nine, Liza, who’s seven, and Max, who’s four. They’re going to watch the performances, then they’ll go home while we have dinner.”
“It’s so nice to meet you all,” I answered. I’d always loved kids, and this crew was adorable.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Liza responded sweetly, enunciating the words in a way that made it clear she’d been practicing her English.
When I saw Natalia grab her little hand, ready to usher her to our seats, the tension in my body fully dissipated.
This was a strong family who supported each other.
Maybe I didn’t have any reason to feel left out after all.
“Can I get you another drink?” a waiter asked me while we were seated at our table, ready for dinner to be served.
“Yes, white wine, please,” I responded, silently hoping that the bartender would make it a tall pour.
I was seated between Wlad and Natalia, and scattered around us were a collection of men, most of whom were Wlad and Vitali’s business associates and friends.
The men spoke fast and loudly, all in Russian, and I couldn’t understand a single thing they said.
I guess if I can’t talk, I can drink, I told myself. At the very least, wine would loosen me up.
Every now and then, one of the men would raise his voice, and the rest of the table would become silent.
Then another would pick up one of the many vodka bottles scattered around the table, pour each man a small glass, and stand, raising his own glass.
A toast would ring out, and all of the men—including Wlad, who hardly ever drank—would take a shot.
Natalia and I stuck to our wine. No one ever offered us a shot.
“These men love to toast,” said Natalia, turning to me after what felt like the hundredth toast about who-knows-what.
“I bet it’s the only way they can get Wlad to drink,” I answered. Then I realized that if the night went on like this, he’d be drunk within the hour.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Natalia added, smiling. “If you and I asked Wlad to raise a glass to something, he would be forced to drink. And getting Wlad drunk for fun is a terrible plan.”
As I laughed and filed Natalia’s idea away for future shenanigans, I realized how much I liked her. At a table full of loud, dominant men, she was warm and gentle, yet I could see the strength inside her. I hardly knew her, but I wanted to be her friend.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said after the toasting quieted down. “What do you like to do?”
“I used to model,” she answered, “but what I really love to do is sing. My parents were musicians when I was growing up.” Then her eyes looked away from me toward something far in the distance, I didn’t know what. “If I could do anything, I would sing for a living.”
I took a sip of my wine and thought about what she’d said.
I was twenty, with a lifelong career that brought me joy and made me proud.
Women in Hollywood had faced dozens of obstacles in their efforts to achieve equality with men—and while we weren’t there yet—we’d come a long way.
The same was true in many other industries across America.
In Ukraine, gender roles were much more traditional and rigid, with men seen as the breadwinners and women viewed as their supporters.
Natalia clearly bristled at this social structure—or at least didn’t defend it.
“I love to sing, too,” I said instead of what was on my mind. “I’ve been singing since I was a kid.”
“Yes, well, I’d love to hear you sometime,” she answered, smiling in the kindest possible way.
“I’m sure we’ll have the chance,” I said, finishing off my glass of wine. “That is, if Wlad invites me back here to be with these guys.”
Natalia laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about that.
And you should just ignore all these men.
But I would worry about something.” She leaned toward me and began whispering.
“Vitali once said there are few things Ukrainian men like less than seeing a woman drunk. Be careful because I’m afraid he’s right. ”