Page 41 of Notes About Vodka

Her eyes soften, and she smiles that Laura smile—the one that makes me feel like maybe, I’m not such a screw-up after all. It’s also the telltale sign that she has an idea.

“Have you ever tried Skype?”

“Skype?” I repeat, a little clueless.

“Yeah! It’s a video chat thing. You can call them whenever. And actually look at them face to face. Rhea uses it all the time to talk to her parents in Puerto Rico. I could help you set it up.”

“Well, okay then. I’d really like that.”

“First, call your dad, I know it's probably expensive to makethe call, but ask him to Google Skype and download it.” Laura tells me.

She’s right, to call that distance just from my cell phone can cost several dollars per minute, and Skype sounds like a potential solution.

“Well, Val, call him. What are you waiting for. We have the time now, so do it and maybe tonight you can actually talk to him.”

“Okay, well what time is it right now?”

“Just a little after 4 p.m., what’s the time difference again?”

“Right now, it’s only 6 hours between, so it’s 10 at home.”

“Then call, Val, call!” Laura begs me.

“Fine,” I mumble. I haven’t talked to my parents in a few weeks so I have a feeling they are not going to be happy with me. Especially since I don’t know when they go to bed and if I wake them up and its not an emergency…

What will that mean, will they be mad…happy…

Typing in their number, the phone rings.

“What’s that sound?” Laura asks.

“Huh?”

“The sound, the ringtone.”

“Oh, yeah, European dial tones are different.” I tell her just as my mom picks up the phone.

“Previt?!?!?!?” my mother, Lyudmila, answers.

Soft Russian music plays in the background and I can hear a variety of voices from where I’ve pressed the speakerphone button resonating from the background.

My parents live in a 2-bedroom concrete condo on the third floor with thin area carpets covering their hardwood floors so when guests are over, it’s hard to understand what they are saying.

But once I have my mom on the phone, my Russian comes back quickly as I tell her in mynative language.

“Mama! Its’ Val! Eto Val-chick. Your son. Te-bear sinnula! Where is Papa? Stow Papi? Listen mama, my girl had a big idea! Slusha mama, mena genshena bolshoy idea.”

“Valerah! What is her name? What an amazing girlfriend!”

“Mama, it doesn’t matter, but she helped me figure out a free way to talk to you and Papi. Get him now, PASHLI!!!! Hurry!”

“Okay, okay, sinnula. Calm down, PAHADI! SASHA DEMETRIVICH! Te bear sinna cellular!”

Blet, my mom sounds like she’s had a little too much vodka, like when I was a kid.

My dad comes to the phone and I explain to him what we need to do. He has also been enjoying the cognac he recently distilled but at least understands. Asking for help from a cousin, it takes us 20 minutes to install Skype on my dad's computer while Laura and I patiently help them walk through the steps.

Then, I admit that I’m not at my apartment and will have to set up my account later after I escort Laura around a taste of Russian living.

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