Chapter 3: Diplomatic Relations, Part II

August 1981, Chicago, Illinois

I called Stephanie to talk to her about Tatyana because I needed her input.

“Steph, you remember me writing about a Russian girl named Tatyana that I met in Austria?”

“Yes; wasn’t her dad some kind of diplomat?”

“Yes, he was Trade Attaché in Vienna. Well, he’s here in the US trying to set up a company to distribute Russian-built tractors, and she and her mom are with him, taking a vacation. Tomorrow night, I’m her escort to a reception hosted by the Russian Trade Office here in Chicago.”

“Wow! So like formal? You know you’re irresistible in a tuxedo, Steve!”

“That’s why I’m calling. Yesterday she and I hung out and did a bit of sightseeing, though she had a KGB bodyguard with her. We made out a little bit later that evening when we were alone.”

“A little bit? So you just did it once?” my sister teased.

“Not even close. We kissed, and I fondled her breast through her blouse. That’s it. But I’m confused.”

“You want to know if that would that be classified as ‘behaving’?”

“Bingo. I didn’t really feel guilty, but then again, we just kissed for a short time.”

“Is there a chance it might go further?” she asked.

“What do you think?” I chuckled. “This is me we’re talking about, after all! But I need to figure out where to draw the line.”

“I think this is like Laura, Big Brother. It’s a girl you know, you aren’t just hopping into bed with her, and there’s nothing romantic, is there?”

“No. But I suspect she might be a virgin.”

“Well, that’s a yellow flag for sure, and it might be a red one. You’ve had trouble in that area before. I’m not just talking about Annie and Dona, but Trish as well.”

“That’s what gives me pause in this situation. I’m certainly not looking for a relationship with anyone. That’s why Kathy is perfect. You know how we are, and it’s kind of like with Debbie V. I mean sure, in some bizarre set of circumstances I could be happy long-term with either of them, but they aren’t Kara, Karin, Bethany, or even Joyce.”

“By the way, I had a chance to talk to Bethany a bit on the way home. I think she’s actually going to really date in Madison, as in if she finds an acceptable guy, sleep with him.”

“That’s good. Even if things don’t work out with Kara the way I want them to, Bethany needs to break this infatuation she has with me. Even if she only ever has sex with one guy, one time, in Madison, it’ll make all the difference in the world. She might find she doesn’t need me the way she thought she did, or she might prove to herself that she does. I’m pretty sure she needs to do that, just like Birgit was sure I needed to be with Melanie.”

“Damn, Big Brother. You’ve really changed. I used to agree with Jennifer on the whole ‘having sex with someone would end things’ idea, but now I’m not so sure. In fact, I’m convinced that’s no longer true. Well, maybe for Kara, but nobody else.”

“It’s only true about Kara, because she’d only do that if she thought things were completely over for us. She’s either going to marry me or be celibate until someone besides me puts a ring on her finger. It’s just who she is.”

“That’s probably true. I haven’t talked with her that much in the past two months, but I think you’re right. You are a very, very special exception to what she thought was right.”

“Of course, we haven’t answered the question.”

“You’re right. And I don’t think we can. In fact, going forward, we can’t. You have to, Big Brother. Not me. Not Bethany. You. That’s what Kara said. And she’s right.”

I sighed, “I know. I just needed to talk to somebody about it, I guess, just to clear my mind.”

“I’ll always talk to you and help you, but I can’t answer those kinds of questions for you. I’m not ‘Squirt’ anymore. That’s sad in some ways, but good in others. I’m not reading your journal and I won’t. We have to make a true, clean break, Steve. And you’re finally in a place where you can handle it.”

“I know,” I said softly. “Thanks, Stephanie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

We hung up, and I had no more clarity than when I had made the call. I was going to have to figure this one out on my own. One thing that was clear was that the special relationship that I had once had with my sister was gone. I was sure that in the future, we might have talks similar to the ones we used to have, but they would be few and far between. They had to be, for our own good. It was sad, but it was also gratifying that we were both growing up. My little sister was no longer that, a little sister, but a young woman with her own life, her own decisions to make, and her own path. And that path necessarily diverged from mine.

Deep in thought, I showered, dressed in black slacks and a black polo, grabbed my fedora, and headed downtown for my dinner with Tatyana.

I arrived at the hotel, turned my car over to the valet, walked into the lobby and went straight up to the fifth floor. When I exited the elevator, the plainclothes officer stopped me and asked me for ID. I questioned him and he said that because I wasn’t escorted, he needed ID and then he’d check to see if I was actually invited.

“Chicago Police?” I asked.

“FBI. The female officer at the other end of the hall is with the State Department.”

I handed over my driving license for him to review. He took out a radio and called in my name, and when he received the all clear, he walked me to Tatyana’s door and knocked.

“Miss Voronin, are you expecting a Mr. Stephen Adams?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said.

The agent handed me my license and walked back to his post. Tatyana kissed me three times on the cheek, Russian style, and led me into the room.

“Does your mother know that I’m here?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. She trust me to be good girl! She put your name on list with FBI and Russian Security Office. That is who FBI agent call on radio. Here is invitation for reception. It is in hotel ballroom downstairs.”

“And Major Anisimova?”

She laughed, “KGB like you think! But she is nice. I like her. She let me do what I want most of time.”

“Tatyana, I notice you don’t use articles like ‘a’, ‘an’ and ‘the’ when you speak.”

“That is true. The Russian language does not have them. So sometimes it is hard to remember to do it,” she said deliberately.

“It’s fine, Tatyana, I was just curious.”

“You should learn Russian. Would be good to know for when Soviet Union rules whole world!” she said with a big smile.

“I think Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher might have something to say about that!” I chuckled.

“Yes, is true. But we can be friends even if Comrade Brezhnev and President Reagan are not.”

“I agree. Even our leaders have practiced détente from time to time!”

“Yes, is called «разрядка» in Russian. But this means not being ready to fight. I prefer we are actually friends.”

“Me too!”

“Dinner is ordered. I expect waiter in twenty minutes. Do you want drink?”

“Yes, whatever you are having.”

“White wine.”

She poured me a glass, and we sat on the couch to wait for our food. She told me about her day. They had gone on a boat tour of Chicago on the river and along the lakefront. She’d only returned to her room about twenty minutes before I’d arrived, long enough to change into the skirt and blouse she was wearing and order dinner. We talked about the reception the next night. She asked if I knew how to dance and, because I was sure she was talking about formal dances like a waltz, I said that I had very little experience.

“Stand. I teach you. Is easy!” she smiled.

“Maybe for you, but I’m much better at swimming and ice skating than dancing.”

“If you ice skate, you can dance. Trust me, please.”

I stood up, and we moved to an open spot in the room. She showed me where to put my hands, and then led me through the steps.

“We do turning box only, because little room here, but is good enough for reception. Is simple. Step first with left foot, then sideways with right foot...”

She helped me through the steps until there was a knock at the door and the waiter, accompanied by Major Anisimova, brought in a rolling table with our dinner. He quickly set up the table, uncovered the plates, opened a bottle of red wine and left with Major Anisimova close on his heels. We sat down at the table.

“Does she always do that?”

“Yes, if person comes in room who is not known to her, she must be there. You are OK because she met you yesterday.”

And I thought my mom was controlling and overprotective when I was fourteen! This was like the service at The Maisonette or Bethany’s dad’s country club, except twenty-four hours a day!

“Tatyana, don’t you find all of this a bit oppressive? I mean, being constantly watched by the KGB and needing a bodyguard?”

“I have always had bodyguard. Is life of diplomatic family. At home in Leningrad I am free to come and go as I wish, so long as mother approve. Nobody watch me and no bodyguard. Only when out of country. You do not see bodyguard when we ski in Austria?”

“No. I assumed someone was watching you, but I never saw any bodyguard.”

“Is young man from Vienna embassy. He look like skier on holiday. He follow us the entire time. He see you kiss me and was jealous!” she giggled.

I might get shot yet! Of course, I’d avoided it with the East German border guards when Anders Jonsson, my host father in Sweden, had made a wrong turn during a trip to Berlin. And if I could get through that, I could probably get through this, as long as I didn’t upset my young lady friend!

Dinner was prime rib with mashed potatoes and green beans. We ate and drank our wine and chatted about what it was like for each of us growing up. I was amazed at how similar things were, despite the wide chasm between our governments. Of course, I wondered how much of her story was the result of being a privileged kid. I’d heard all kinds of stories about Russia, but there was really no way to verify without seeing for myself.

“Do you have a boyfriend back home?” I asked.

“I did. Was son of important Party member in Leningrad. But I break it off with him because he treat me like possession. And you?”

Her ex sounded not much different from some spoiled rich kids and football players I knew.

“I’ve dated a lot, and there is one special girl, but we’re not steady.”

“Steady?”

“It means being a couple and not dating anyone else. We might be in the future, but for now, no. She’s back in Milford.”

We finished eating and Tatyana called to have the table removed. We sat on the couch with coffee to talk. A few minutes later there was a knock at the door and a hotel staff member, accompanied by Major Anisimova, took away the table. After they left, Tatyana asked about my stay in Sweden and why I chose to go there. I told her about Birgit and what had happened.

“So was your first love? And she die? Is very sad. In Russia we have saying — «Жизнь прожить — не поле перейти». I think in English is like ‘Life is not crossing pretty field’.”

“‘Life is not a bed of roses’ is probably the closest English proverb. And yes, I would agree.”

I told her more about my time in Sweden and how much I enjoyed it. She told me about the places she’d been, including Iran, Austria, Finland, and Japan, all with her father as he was part of trade delegations. It certainly sounded like an exciting life.

“What is father’s name?” she asked.

“Ray.”

“Ray? Is odd name. So you are Stephen Ray Adams?”

“No, Stephen Mark Adams. Is it the custom in Russia to use the Father’s name as the middle name?”

“Yes. I am Tatyana Ivanovna Voronina. Father is Ivan. I think is John in English. Father is Ivan Konstantinovich Voronin. Father is Konstantin. Mother is Anna Vasilyevna Voronin. Father is Vasily.”

“I like that. So my children would have the middle name Stepanovich if they were a boy and Stepanova if they were a girl in Russia. So in the US, it would be Stephen or Stephanie. That is my little sister’s name. Stephanie.”

“How many brothers and sisters?”

“One of each. Both of them are younger. Jeff is sixteen and Stephanie is fourteen. I get along very well with my sister, but not very well with my brother. Just as I get along very well with my dad, but not with my mom.”

“Is too bad, really. I wish I had sister. Would be nice. Having one child is normal for Party members.”

“So your dad is a member of the Communist Party?”

“Yes. Is necessary for his job. He must be. Just as mother must be. I am member of Komsomol — Youth League. Is normal and expected. I want to be diplomat, so is necessary I join Communist Party when permitted. If I can study in US, I study at Harvard. International Relations course.”

“Your government would allow you to study here?”

“Yes. For diplomats, London, Zurich, or Boston are usual. When I finish I go to diplomat school in Moscow before assignment starts.”

That was interesting. I had thought this might be the only time I’d ever see Tatyana, at least for quite some time. I did want to go to Russia at some point, but that was a far-off dream. If she was in Boston, I might see her from time to time. She was turning into a good friend, one I very much enjoyed being with. I still had the question of how far I’d take things, assuming her limits changed, which was not a foregone conclusion by any means. Quite the opposite, really. So far, she seemed not to be reacting the way girls usually did when I kissed them, which intrigued me.

“You wish dessert?” Tatyana asked.

I had several Smart Aleck comments that I didn’t think were appropriate. Tatyana was perhaps the most proper teenager I’d ever met. We’d been taught in social studies class back in eighth grade that Russians were very formal until you really got to know them and that it was rare that they showed emotion except to their closest friends. That was exactly how Tatyana was acting.

“Yes, that would be great!” I said.

She picked up the phone and ordered cheesecake for both of us, along with another pot of coffee. A waiter arrived about ten minutes later, once again accompanied by Major Anisimova. The waiter set out the cake and coffee on the table in front of the couch and then they left. Tatyana poured us each some coffee, and we ate our cake. I decided to broach the issue of how she was behaving, not as criticism, but as curiosity.

“Tatyana, you seem so formal, even when we’re alone. Americans are usually much less formal.”

“Yes. Is known. In Russia we are careful to always be correct in public or with people we do not know. With my close friends I can be, how do you say, silly girl?”

“That’s how you would say it, yes. You don’t have to be so formal around me. In fact, I’m not a big fan of formality. Oh, I like to dress up on occasion for things like Prom and this reception tomorrow, but usually, I’m pretty relaxed and casual.”

“Prom? What is this?”