TE17 Mysterious Montenegro

Alta Ifland

with vodka. But what a difference between the wobbling chair implanted like a single tooth inside the gaping mouth of his former office with its echoing bare walls, and Bill’s enormous leatherarmchairs fromwhere theirvoices lazilyemerged! No, this was better than anything else Serioja had ever experienced. His eyes moistened with love and gratitude, as he kept talking, and when he was too worn-out to remember any words in English, he switched to Russian, while Bill listened with his head drooping lower and lower until he finally began to snore. Bill’s snoring was like a pleasant murmuring, not the loud, disturbing kind of snoring of some men, but more like the rustling of leaves over a carpet of pebbles, and Serioja let the snoring accompany his Russian-spoken monologue for a fewminutes, then he too began to snore. A week went by without incident, and when Bill told him out of the blue that he (that is, Serioja) had to leave, Seriojawas shocked. He insisted on being given a reason, but Bill kept repeating that things couldn’t just go on this way, and it was probably better for him to return to Russia.

“Moldova,” corrected Serioja.

“Sorry, Moldova.”

Serioja packed his few things and, with tears in his eyes, hugged Bill. If he ever came to Chisinau he should look himup and come visit because there people are happy to receive guests, and he for one would be thrilled to host him. His mother, who cooks like a goddess, would give him a royal treatment. Although they are poor folks—their entire apartment could fit inside Bill’s living 180