My Russian Adventure Pt. 01

Have fun reading my story, based on the Moscow Music Peace Festival in 1989. Many thanks to my Editing Cousin, your input means the world to me.

MY RUSSIAN ADVENTURE - part 1

Summer of 1989

The Turnover Cafe was our fraternity's hangout. Diederick, Arend and I dragged chairs out of the cafe, and took a table as well. It was a nice summer day with the kind of clouds Dutch skies can make so well.

Our university was the only one in The Netherlands where we still had a fraternity, and a sorority as well. The Turnover Cafe was also the home base of the sisters, and normally this place was crowded, but the holidays had begun.

I had put off drinking my coffee, I couldn't buy another after this one.

"You still have coffee I see, Bareld." Didi looked at Arend. "You fancy another?" Teasing me about my perpetual money shortage was a running gag, but Diederick was a generous person. He'd buy me a coffee and he didn't need anything in return.

Diederick and I had been friends since I joined the fraternity four years ago. As a freshman I studied French, well, hardly, so after a year I switched to anthropology. It suited me much better, no more pounding words. My name is Bareld de Jong.

"Why didn't you back me on my motion to merge with the sorority? I said, "do you want us to end up in the old boys club?"

Diederick was our chairman, his voice carried weight. He could have changed the outcome.

"I met with the sisters. They didn't want it. They said, we're the only uni where we're still separated, it's mainstream! We are unique, and it's fun, we don't want to spoil that just because of common opinions."

"Hm, that sounds like them. Fighting male supremacy on their own terms," I said, "and anytime they want a merged activity, they get it. Why didn't I ask myself?"

"You're just too fond of girls," Arend said, "and they--"

"Are fond of me, I heard that one before Arend." I shook my head. "I should have asked them before I proposed the motion."

"It was a fun meeting," Arend said, "A heated discussion, strong emotions, loved it."

Diederick introduced Arend to me at the New Year celebration of our fraternity. He was someone you'd easily overlook, medium build, sandy hair and no distinguished clothing style. He seemed shy but he wasn't really, he just needed time to open up to you. And once he did his eyes started to sparkle and funny little remarks poured out of him. He had some ideas for sketches.

"I know at least two girls who'd want a cabaret group," I said, "or do you want it to be strictly male? British army style?"

"No, no, contemporary for sure, look at scene one..." and he reached for his bag.

Didi said, "you got this, don't you Bareld? You can use the backroom of the Turnover Cafe on frat nights, you know that." He winked at me and left us.

I recruited three girls and a boy, I joined myself and we started rehearsing. Arend directed, and I took care of the practical stuff. We became a close knit group. One of the girls was Petra. She and I had previously had a fling, but now we got steady. She had a great voice and if I may reveal an intimate detail, she employed it fully during climaxes.

The day we performed we got a full house, and the show was a blast. The atmosphere was exuberant in the foyer, and Theater Guy had to call, "Last round!" twice before people were starting to leave. My father stayed, and followed us backstage.

My father was someone who took care of himself. A slight belly showed his love for food and a good wine, and his tan screamed he loved the sun. He liked the attention of others, and as a master conversationalist he held it easily. A master manipulator in my eyes.

Backstage we crammed into one of the dressing rooms to mark the end of a great project with a toast. I'd gotten us a bottle of bubbles and a bunch of glasses. This was a private moment, I didn't want my father present, but somebody had passed on a glass to him. I could hardly take it from him and say, "get lost," so I filled it, and said instead, "anything you want to say dad?" so he could give his compliment or whatever and leave us.

Stupid me, I could have known he had no intention to leave. Dad said, "people, people." The room was quiet instantly. "It was a privilege to be here tonight. Your combined enthusiasm caught me right from the beginning. Petra." Meaningful silence. "You have a voice that's so wonderful it affects everyone as soon as you open your mouth. Have you ever wondered why everybody starts to smile when you're around? There you have your answer." Snickering around him. "And you, what's your name?"

"Cecile."

"Cecile, your timing can make a common remark funny. That's a talent you have, and I know it's a talent that's not just useful on stage, it's useful in a boardroom too!" That got him a laugh.

The concept was simple. He took a detail one did right on stage, blew it up to a precious treat, and looked that person deep in the eye. It left them in awe, as if they were blessed by the messiah.

I knew these people, and I knew what they had to overcome to be on that stage. I wanted to celebrate those wins. I wanted to be with them, after tonight we'd return to diverging lives. But daddy had taken the stage, and I knew he was going to wrap it up and send us home with a silver bow.

He continued, "Barrio,"

"When you reported my birth you named me Bareld, remember? That made Petra's name the only one you knew of us," I said.

"Barrio, I know you're modest about your ability to bring people together. But I assure you, it's really special. I'm proud of you." The troupe nodded.

So he was proud of me because I called a few people whom I already knew would say yes. He saw nothing noteworthy of me on stage. I told him a thousand times not to call me Barrio. I gritted my teeth.

Arend said, "mr de Jong--"

"Gerard, call me Gerard."

"I find that hard, mr de Jong, but I'll try. We're proud of Barrio too." He winked at me, I smiled sourly, I couldn't be mad at Arend. "Folks, good work. You did well." We've heard this phrase a thousand times in the past months, it made him such a joy to work with, he never talked anyone down. He looked at me questioningly, did I want to say something? I'd forgotten what I wanted to say, I didn't feel it anymore. I said no with the smallest of shakes.

Theater Guy stuck his head around the corner: "Can I lock up? Or do you need more time?"

"No no," said Arend, "We're done, aren't we?" People were already grabbing their stuff.

My dad nodded, gave me two taps on my shoulder and left.

Outside the theater Arend and I saw everybody leave. It was a bright night, with a sliver of the moon. I felt empty.

"You know how I always say, be truthful on stage, right?" Arend said, " I know your father meant it. He really is proud of you, Bareld."

"He doesn't know me!" I spat, "he doesn't know any of us. He comes barging in, butters everyone up and leaves them drooling, you included, and our moment is gone!"

"Was it meant to be your moment?"

"No. No! It's not about me, it's about us! And now it's about him. Gerard de Jong performed well in the dressing room, so the show must have been okay I guess. Why can't you see that?"

Arend knew to pick his battles. "I'm dying for a beer, join me?" He gave me a firm slap on my back. "I'm buying."

That was a month ago. Now, on the terrace, Arend said, "I still don't get why you're so mad at your father. He liked our show and came backstage to tell us, that's nice, isn't it?"

"By default he assumes he's in charge. He steps into CEO mode. The smug old boys club rules the world. He acts as if he's at the plant on the workpplace where he doesn't know any of the employees! All bullshit! And what makes it worse, everyone is drooling over him like he's swami salami himself!"

I hadn't noticed my chair fell backward when I stood up during my rant. "It seems the only one who knows how to handle him is my mother. She reminds him with a single remark he's no CEO in our house. How come she's the only one who doesn't take his bullshit?"

"Wow," Arend said, "when you had to do anger in the cabaret you struggled so much." He snickered a bit. "But what he said in our dressing room--"

"Bareld knows his father has a silver tongue, Arend, let's leave it at that," Didi said, and audible to me he whispered to Arend, "believe me, I tried to tell him he has a great father." At this point I was ready to storm away, Didi sensed it.

"How come you and Petra split up?" he asked. I sighed and picked up my chair.

"Better subject. Worse subject. She said I was craving a steady relationship more than I was craving her."

"And? Were you?"

"Of course not. Well, maybe a little. Okay, she was right."

"She didn't seem traumatized when I saw her after," Arend said.

"Our break up sex was amazing. She sang my name as a nightingale on steroids," and I added bitterly, "she said, 'we'll have to do this again,' before she kicked me out." One more sigh. "And what about you guys?"

Diederick was still going strong with Anneloes, they were together for quite a while now. Where Arend had a lot going on, and he told us in a tasty way.

Diederick had a thought. "You must have gotten the result of your retake exam?" He grinned, "let me guess, you scraped by? Bachelor now?"

Arend snickered, "Barend the bachelor, congrats."

"No need to be condescending about my grades, I've got enough A's to start an alphabet."

Now they both laughed. Didi said, "but Bareld, what do you want with an alphabet containing 26 A's?"

"I want to go for my masters, but I need a job. I will not go to my father and beg him for money." I refused to be the preppy silver spoon guy.

"I thought you worked at the supermarket? Stockroom?"

"Not any more."

"How come?"

"You won't believe this."

Last Monday I was putting on my dust jacket to start my shift, when Andrien, she's our floor manager, said I had to go to the office. Manager Guy wanted me.

He was a cheery chap with a no-nonsense attitude, and came straight to the point. "Hello Bareld, with the upcoming holiday some of our staff will be gone, I hired newbies to fill the gaps and I want you to show them the ropes."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty much a newbie myself."

"Ha ha, No, I've seen you get it, you'll work them in."

"I'm still asking Andrien how things work and where they are."

"That's what I like about you, you have the right attitude. About Andrien, you know about her knee injury?" I nodded. "She will be operated on, and gone for four weeks. I want you to be her stand in."

"Me? Floor manager? I only just got here."

"Bareld, it's just a month I'm not going to hire another. I want you to fill in."

"That's crazy. I would have to tell Checkout Granny what to do?"

"She's no leader."

"A leader? I don't have the knowledge or skills of a floor manager, so sorry but no, I'll keep to the stockroom."

"Like I just said, I hired fresh blood so I don't need you there. Are you telling me now you won't stand in for Andrien?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"I won't do that."

"Come on, it's not that complicated, with a little bluff you'll hold up. I know you can do it."

"Bluff? Bluff? You want me to pretend when I don't know shit? What kind of management is this?"

"Are you implying I don't know my job?"

"By asking the question you gave the answer. Can I go back now?"

His head turned slightly red. "Yes, go, and send Buddy over."

My jaw dropped. "Buddy? And you're gonna ask him the same question?" He gave a slight nod. "If you make Buddy floor manager you definitely suck at your job."

"What's that?"

I shouted, "you suck at your job!" In the silence that followed I saw a range of emotions pass through his face. Disbelieve, pity? Cold anger.

"Go back and pack your stuff. I don't need you anymore." With his elbows on the table and his hands together he gave me a stare. "Close the door behind you."

"Ouch," Diederick grinned, "He clearly struck a nerve."

"I wish I'd been there." Arend scratched his head. "A great scene."

"To be honest Bareld, I'm with Manager Guy on this one. You could wing Andrien's job easily, and the rest of the staff would be much happier with you. Now they'll have to deal with Buddy."

I groaned. I knew where this was going. "I'm not a leader."

"I have to step down as chairman as you well know, and Ronald is the one candidate to succeed me--"

This was new to Arend. "Ronald? You can't be serious!" Ronald was attractive, smart and charming. With an ego the size of a steamer.

"--there could be two candidates, if you weren't so goddamn stubborn. And you would win the vote."

"How do you know?" I said, "and I don't want to boss people around, it's not me."

"Am I bossing people around?" Didi asked.

"Well, no, but you're smart. Like asking the sisters before the vote. You're a good chairman, Diederick."

"You would be too. Do you know what's the first thing Ronald wants to do?"

"I don't want to know."

"Throw the sorority out of The Turnaround."

Arend called out, "he can't do that!"

"Easily. The cafe's deal is with the fraternity only, the sorority is there because we allow them to. Most people don't know, because it's been like this forever."

"Ronald has lots of friends and he'll be easily accepted as chairman," I said.

"He will be bossing people around and you wouldn't. He'll fuck up the fraternity."

"You don't know that. And I'm not a leader!"

Arend gave me an incredulous look. "You led the cabaret."

"I didn't, you did! Stop pushing me around!"

"A mule is compliant next to Bareld when it's about power," Didi said to Arend, "arguing is pointless." He sighed. "You know I work for Harry Wiltes, don't you, the tv production company? End of August there's a big project, maybe he needs extra hands. Muscle. Call him, it pays well."

I was relieved he let go. "I can't," I said, "kickoff for next year is early, remember?"

"Hasn't held you back before."

"True."

When I made the call it was answered by Geraldine Jonker, his companion. "We're fully staffed, so I'm sorry. And if something would open up, the job would be to load and unload trucks, and carry stuff around. I wish you luck finding something else."

Was she reacting to my posh accent? "Please note my phone number. I'm fully prepared to do physical work. As a matter of fact I prefer it."

"Do you now? All right, give me the number."

My roommate tried to cheer me up. "Come on, you have to go out again. I'll buy you drinks. You dumped Petra weeks ago, I know you're dying for some action." Roommate was an okay guy, but we permanently didn't understand each other.

"I didn't dump her, it was mutual. Or, she dumped me."

"And knowing you, you're gonna get laid. I'll bet you though you can't get Suzie, Petra and her being best friends. She's still pissed at you for hurting Petra."

"Expect no sock on my doorknob, I've no intention of bringing a lady home, so I certainly won't end up with Suzie."

That night, at the Turnover Cafe, I ran into both of them. Things were still a bit tense between Petra and I, and I was glad she didn't stick around. I had a curious conversation with Suzie though. She was a shortish brunette, and being tall myself I had quite some length over her.

"Why are you here?" she said.

"Roommate talked me into it. He said it would be good for me."

"So you're on the prowl again?"

"Excuse me?"

"Get some? Pussy hunt? Score?"

"Do you feel I'm coming on to you?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you're not on the make. I'm probably not your type."

That made me smile. "No, maybe not. And you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, assuming you're not on a dick hunt, why are you here?"

"I'm with Petra."

"Come on, you're dodging the question. Suzie van der Groen, why are you here?"

"You know my last name?"

"I must have guessed right. Amazing, there are so many colors."

"Don't flatter yourself. Want a beer?"

"I have to warn you, I can't return the favor, I've already spent Roommates last tenner."

She got a predatory grin. "Poor boy. Wait here."

Monique and Foekje were in the back and waved me over when Suzie returned with two beers. She nodded in their direction.

"They're your type, right?"

"They're practically opposites, so what's my type then?"

"Why did you fuck them?"

"Shit, Suzie, what do you want?"

"I know you nailed them both, more than once."

"So do I, but never when I was with Petra, so what the hell do you want?"

She looked to the ceiling for a moment. "You're strange. Petra told me I was wrong about you. I'll get you another" She strode off, although my glass wasn't empty. I hadn't even stalled. By now I was very curious where this would lead to.

Foekje joined me. "The inquisition got you in shackles, Bareld?" she teased, "Do you want me to organize a rescue party?"

"Let's agree upon a sign," I said, "when I start rubbing my upper lip, you move in with the troops."

"Will do sarge!" Foekje said while Suzie arrived with the beers. She dipped her finger in one of them and licked it off. "Ooh, tasty, I'm gonna get some!" She scooped up foam with two fingers, snapped it at me, and vanished with a big smile.

"I guess that one is yours," Suzie said, handing me the glass, "Cheers." She was obviously thirsty.

"You come from a big family, don't you?"

"Did Petra tell you about me?"

"No, but I saw two of your brothers when she moved out. And I got the impression there were more siblings."

"Very observant of you."

"It was fun to see, you held up so well against those big guys. They are older as well, aren't they?"

"You noticed? I can't even remember you being there."

"I just picked up Petra's box, then I was gone."

We bantered about family, then separated to join other friends. Around eleven she pulled on my arm to get my attention. She had a feverish look. "Follow me. We'll go to my place."

"Hello Suzie. You know I'm not your brother, right?"

"Don't you want to come?"

"I like being asked, and I'm not clear on what you wanna do."

"Alright, I'll ask. Do you want to come with me?" She took my hand and pulled me along. "It's not clear to me either. But I know I want to get out of here."

I followed her. A bit wary, did she have torture devices? Did she want to show me pictures of her brothers? She was the inquisition after all.

Once inside, Suzie went straight to the fridge and got us beers. We clunked and took a swig. "Petra was right, I got you all wrong. I had a great night, and I feel you see me, you know? And now I'm horny. You did that."

I held my hands up in defense. She continued: "Petra bet me you'd get me out of my pants before midnight. I'll be doing her chores for a month."

What am I, a race horse? "It's only half past eleven," I said, "you can still win that bet."

"No I won't." She started kissing me with a sudden passion, and I responded in kind. Maybe I was subconsciously prepared? Under all the aggression I found a tender woman, and we had a sweet lovemaking session.

When I woke up the next morning in her bed, she was staring at me. Puzzled, like I was some kind of science project. "I have to tell my friends about this. No wait, my friends have told me about this. I didn't believe them."

"This is not going any further, is it," I asked. She shook her head.

"This is not love. But it's also not not love," and she gave me a kiss. Don't call me if you're horny again, I thought, but I held my tongue.

July was a shit month, if I'm honest. A lot of my friends were on holiday, I had shit to spend so I stayed home, and I also avoided my parental home. That would feel like admitting defeat.