Page 128 of Notes About Vodka

She laughs and wraps her arm around mine. “Absolutely, Mr. Zaitsev. Lead the way.”

San Francisco Adventures

We start our adventure by exploring the city’s iconic sights. We walk hand-in-hand across the Golden Gate Bridge, feeling the wind whip around us, the towering red structure looming above. The thrill of it all—the height, the view, the vastness of the bay below—it makes my heart swell. I squeeze Laura’s hand, and she smiles up at me, her hair tousled by the wind. There’s something so magical about being here with her, sharing this moment that feels like it belongs only to us.

“You know,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to do this. And now, I’m doing it with you.”

“Just wait until we get to Alcatraz,” I tease. “I’m going to lock you up and throw away the key.”

She nudges me, laughing. “You wish.”

We take a scenic ferry ride to Alcatraz, the city’s skyline growing smaller in the distance as the infamous island prison comes into view. The cool breeze carries the salty scent of the ocean, and I glance at Laura, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The tour is incredible, but what makes it even better is my dad is here. His charming accent and endless stories keep us entertained throughout. He’s got this way of making everything an adventure, and I love how Laura instantly warms up to him. And him to her.

The daughter he always wanted.

“Sasha,” Laura says, “are you always this full of stories?”

He winks at her. “Only when Valik’s around to confirm that they are all true.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Don’t believe everything this Russian tells you, Laura.”

She just laughs, the sound carrying through the cold corridors of Alcatraz, and I realize that every moment of this trip—every laugh, every smile—is a memory I’ll carry forever. Wewander through the old cells, the eerie atmosphere adding a sense of adventure to our day.

Dad keeps us laughing with his commentary, and I catch Laura glancing at me, her eyes filled with happiness. It’s perfect—the kind of day I’ve always dreamed of sharing with her.

Napa Valley Romance

From San Francisco, we head to Napa Valley, where my father drives us around in a red mustang convertible. The contrast to San Francisco is striking. The hilly streets and bustling energy of the city give way to the serene, rolling vineyards that stretch as far as the eye can see. The air is warmer, filled with the scent of ripe grapes and earth, and everything feels slower here—more relaxed. We indulge in wine tastings, romantic vineyard tours, and the breathtaking scenery.

Dad of course, becomes our unofficial photographer, capturing candid moments of Laura and me sipping wine, her head resting against my shoulder as we steal kisses among the grapevines.

“Alright, one more,” dad calls, positioning us beneath an old oak tree.

“We’re going to owe him a lot for this,” Laura whispers, smiling at me.

“I’ll pay him in vodka and hugs from his favorite daughter-in-law,” I reply, giving her a quick kiss on the lips just as the camera clicks. She giggles, her laughter blending with the rustling leaves above us, and I know that these are the moments I’ll remember forever.

One evening, we sneak into a private wine cellar—just the two of us—and share a leftover bottle of vintage wine by candlelight. The cellar is dim and cool, the air thick with the scent of aged wood and fermented grapes. We sit on the stone floor, our shoulders touching as we pass the bottle back and forth, the flickering candlelight casting softshadows around us.

“To us,” I say, raising the bottle.

“To our forever,” she replies, her voice soft, and I know in that moment that this is everything I’ve ever wanted. Her eyes glisten in the candlelight, and I lean in to kiss her, the taste of the wine lingering on her lips.

It’s perfect—intimate and quiet—a memory that’s just ours.

Train Ride to Los Angeles

After Napa, we take a scenic train ride to Los Angeles. Dad loves it and tells us about his time traveling the rails between Sochi and Petrozavodsk or from Moscow to Vladivostok. The days or weeks it could take, but how he loved the adventure.Or maybe just the bar train…

Laura and I sneak a bottle of vodka and some fresh blueberries that we picked up at a farmers' market in San Francisco to share with my father. In our cozy train cabin, we make our own cocktails, the sweet blueberries adding a delightful twist to the crisp vodka.

Dad surprises us with a bottle of prosecco and a fresh orange. I quickly use my hands to peel and squeeze the orange’s juice into a plastic cup. Then, I pour us each a bit of prosecco in a different cup. Laura grabs the orange juice, attempting to help, and starts to pour it into the bubbly.

I try to stop her, she’s pouring to fast, but the chemical reaction has already started. Bubbles and juice erupt from her cup.

Laura giggles as it spills all over her dress. I reach over to help, dabbing at the spill with a napkin while my dad cleans up the table.

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