Stalina Read Online Free PDF Page B

dream?” I said.
    “I said something?” he asked.
    “You said ‘prognosis,’” I replied.
    “Strange—sorry to disturb you.”
    “Not a problem.”
    “I can’t remember what I was dreaming.”
    The wisps of brown hair on his head were going every which way. He held his glasses in his hand and had to squint to see me.
    “Are you a doctor?” I asked.
    He put his glasses on. The lenses were thick and tinted blue. He was round in his belly and had a young cherub face. He looked much friendlier now that his mouth was closed.
    “No. Why? Oh, I said ‘prognosis.’ I remember now—it was a dream about having a terrible illness.”
    “I hope that is not the case,” I added.
    “No, I’m fine. I watch too many of those hospital shows on television. I like your accent.”
    “I’m Russian.”
    The bus started moving again. We passed more signs.
    Pete’s-A-Place: Hartford’s First Sicilian Pizza
    “Pete’s-A-Place, Pete’s-A, piz-za—that’s funny,” I said to my neighbor.
    “You have pizza in Russia?” he asked.
    “Yes, we enjoy it very much.”
    Freddy’s Glass Eye Emporium—Buy and Sell Connecticut
    I hope never to need one of those.
    Berlin Sneaker Circus
    The bus turned onto Windsor Avenue. We passed motel after motel.
    Route Five Pay and Stay
    Amalia had written me about these places.
    Windsor Castle Motel
    She was a dispatcher for the Majik Cleaning Agency of Hartford. She mentioned that they often hired maids to clean the rooms, and she would try to get me a job at one of them. At first I thought I would easily get a job in my field of science, but I quickly learned that was not going to happen. I needed to work. I went to several testing labs for hospitals. Amalia suggested they would need someone with my training. But in order to work for these places, I would need certification from a school in America. They are very particular about how samples taken for testing are handled and disposed. All new employees are required to work with the most contagious materials. I was not impressed with the conditions, nor did I have time or money to go to school. And on top of that, the idea of working with dangerous waste was not what I wanted for my life here. I know it is important work, but it felt good to leave at least some of my past behind me. Amalia understood, and soon after my arrival she told me of a cleaning position available at the final motel the bus had passed. Plain, honest work. The Liberty Motel. I liked the name. It was the reason I was here. The bus was just minutes from the Hartford depot. My neighbor had fallen back to sleep and was snoring loudly.
    The last lab where I worked in Russia kept me on because of the hazardous materials they were storing. Anthrax and smallpox were their specialty. It was dangerous to work around these things, but as a Jew I was very dependent on the ebb and flow of who was in charge, so in order to keep my job I was willing to work under conditions that many others would refuse. “Your sickle must rest silently,” the head of the lab would say. That was no issue for me.
    But in Connecticut, just before the Christmas holiday in 1991, I was very pleased when Amalia organized a job for this Jew at the Liberty Motel a few weeks after I arrived in Hartford, USA. At first, Mr. Suri, the manager and owner, resisted hiring me because he wanted someone younger.
    “It’s not because you’re Jewish, he just prefers younger employees,” Amalia assured me.
    She told me how the last maid he hired, a woman my age, was caught giving favors to a customer in the laundry room.
    “I’m trying to run a legitimate business here. Don’t send me any more of your hard cases,” he told Amalia.
    “I have someone perfect, Mr. Suri. She has dignity. We were childhood friends. Her English is excellent. Stalina will be a great asset to your establishment,” she told him. “Trust me.”



Chapter Six: Liberty Motel, Rooms for the Imaginative
     
    One of the first things I