The Ring of the Queen (The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Part VI

  When your mother asks, ‘Do you want a piece of advice?’ it is a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway.

  -Erma Bombeck

  “I’m so glad you took time out of your busy schedule to come and have dinner,” my mom said as she ran around the kitchen preparing one of her meals fit for a king. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

  My mother was the perfect mom. At least by definition. She wanted the best for her family. She went to church every single Sunday and all the major holidays. She volunteered her time at soup kitchens and food banks. She baked cookies for the volunteer firemen up the road. She kept the house perfect, the kitchen stocked, the porch swept and the car clean. June Cleaver had nothing on her. She looked more like a grandmother however. She was short and stout, but not really fat. She wore the elastic pants that I called old lady pants. She wore flowered blouses and black flats most of the time, but that night she wore a bright red sweater with metallic thread running through it. She still had on black elastic pants, but she’d jazzed it up a little. The thing that had changed recently about mom was her hair. She’d worn bifocals for years, but it was just recently that she’d given up on dying her hair. She’d always covered up her gray by dying her hair it’s natural brown, but since everyone had passed on, she’d gotten away from that. She’d also gotten away from wearing the full face of makeup that I’d been used to my whole life, and now she only wore lipstick.

  “You call me every day,” I replied, sitting at the table, snacking on the cucumbers that she’d put out with the veggie plate for appetizers.

  “You don’t answer me,” she snorted.

  “I’m busy, God. Why don’t you just call me later or text me?”

  “First, do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’d understand, but fine.”

  “You are so flip. For your information, young lady, I sleep at night, and I want to hear your voice. I don’t text. Texting is for people who don’t really want to communicate.”

  “It’s flippant, and texting is just modern. You’re old fashioned. You know, legally I’m an adult.”

  “You’ll always be my little girl. And, now you are pretty much my only family. That leaves you with a certain responsibility. I love you. I want to stay close.”

  “I know mom, but I want to be me. I want to make a life, and have a family of my own someday. I have all kinds of dreams, and I can’t do any of them if I continue to be your little girl. Can you understand that?”

  I could see that she was getting to the last of the dinner preparation even though it was only a little after five. I understood that change was difficult for my mom, and that the world had forced her into way too much of it in the last year. I also realized that the hardest thing in the world is to outlive a child, and I didn’t know if I could even survive such a thing and hoped that I would never have to find out. I wanted to talk to her about the trip, but I knew that I shouldn’t broach that subject until Dr. Al arrived. I didn’t want to be the one to push my mom over the edge, but I had to start doing things for myself. I wanted to be the little girl that she wanted me to be, but I just couldn’t. I looked at my watch, seeing that it hadn’t moved.

  Instead of stressing out about the impending conversation that I had to have with mom, I decided that I would set the table. I got up and started to get some mid-range dishes out. My mom had the dishes that she didn’t care about, that you could break and she wouldn’t blink an eye. She had the good china that she used for holidays, weddings, showers, and funerals. Then she had some blue painted stoneware that she got out for meals that she made for guests, but not on special occasions. That was the set that I broke out for that night’s meal.

  She watched me for a moment. “Why three places?”

  I knew I’d forgotten something. “I forgot to tell you, sorry. I invited Dr. Al.”

  She gave me the look. I hated the look that told me that she knew something was up. I had always been really bad at manipulating or lying to my mom, and adulthood hadn’t changed that.

  “What’s up?” She asked. “You know I adore Dr. Al, but I don’t think you would have invited him just because.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “18 ½ years of experience. Now, give. What is it that you think you need back up to talk to me about? You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “I told you I would tell you if I had a boyfriend. No, I’m not pregnant. Last time I checked, there would have to be a guy involved.”

  “Well, maybe if you would do something with that gorgeous blonde curly hair of yours, or you would wear a little makeup.”

  “Mom! I don’t really care about dating right now.”

  “Just because one boy turned out to be a homosexual doesn’t mean that you should give up. There are still boys that like girls, right?”

  “I’m not giving up; I don’t give a crap right now. I’m busy”

  The doorbell rang. I was relieved. I hoped to God that it was Dr. Al being his usual 15 minutes early. I nearly ran to the door and opened it. It was Dr. Al. He had a brown paper bag that looked to be full of wine, and was wearing his fancy tweed jacket.

  “Dr. Al! I’m so glad you’re here!” I exclaimed as I guided him inside the house. I took his hat and the bag of wine bottles and motioned him to have a seat on the sofa.

  Mom entered the room right behind me. “Dr. Al, so good to see you.”

  “Look, he brought some wine,” I told mom as I ran the bag to the kitchen.

  I came back with a bottle and three wine glasses. “Let’s have a drink.”

  “Thank you so much for the wine,” mom said. “I love a good Bordeaux.” She took the open bottle, poured two glasses of wine and handed me the third glass. “You can have yours in about three years.”

  I snatched the glass from her and returned it to the kitchen. Nothing like a legal drinking age of 21 to make me feel like a little kid. I couldn’t wait to get to Russia. I could go to a bar there.

  “So, what exactly is it that my daughter is scared to tell me?” I heard my mom ask Dr. Al as I walked back into the room.

  “That’s not fair,” I objected. “I’m not scared to tell you anything.”

  “All evidence to the contrary,” mom replied.

  “Just tell her,” Dr. Al said.

  “I signed up to take a class at another school for the January Term. It’s just three weeks,” I told her.

  I was surprised that she didn’t yell. “What kind of class?”

  “History,” I told her.

  “Well, you should probably take it then. It’s in your major,” she said.

  “Exactly,” I agreed.

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  I shot a glance at Dr. Al. “It’s in another country,” he told her. “It’s set up so that they experience the culture of the history they’re studying. As a history professor, she’ll actually do a lot of traveling. She’ll do a lot of travel while writing her dissertation and so forth.”

  “Dr. Al is right,” I continued. “The best way to learn about history is to go where it happened.”

  I knew all of my mom’s looks, and I saw the look come over her face that she had when she knew that I was about to upset her. It was the same look that she had on her face the time that I’d gone to a party and stayed out all night. The only difference was that she didn’t look like she was going to kill me. She just looked anxious and a little scared.

  “And where did this history happen?” she asked. Her voice rose at the end of the sentence like when she was about to yell.

  I looked at Dr. Al, who motioned me to talk. “Well, it’s kind of in Russia,” I stammered.

  Her eyes went wide. Her face got red. The transformation was instant, and I was afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth. “I can’t stop you,” she sa
id.

  “I told her that I thought maybe she should start out with something a little easier, but she wants to study the Tsars,” Dr. Al explained.

  “It’s a great opportunity,” I said.

  “Will you hear me out on a couple of things?” mom asked.

  “I’ll listen, but know that I may not agree with you,” I replied.

  “Fair enough,” she said. “First of all, I wish that you didn’t feel as though you had to bring back up to tell me something that for all intents and purposes is a good thing.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Secondly, you know that I don’t like the idea of your going to Russia. I blame your grandmother for getting you overly interested in that whole country in the first place.” She paused. “However, that’s water under the bridge. My objections are rational.”

  “What are your specific objections?” I asked.

  “You’ve never been anywhere before. Russia is quite a leap. I mean, most people go to Canada or some other less culture shocking place first.”

  “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life,” I countered. “I speak the language and everything.”

  “I realize that. Another objection that I have is safety. Even the State Department will tell you that the country is dangerous to Americans.”

  “Then why are they inviting us there to study?”

  “The class is exclusively for students from English speaking countries,” Dr. Al confirmed.

  “So, is this a group trip?” mom asked.

  “No, this is a class. It’s not a trip per se,” I replied.

  “You cannot go alone,” she said. “I don’t care how old you are; I will not allow you to go to Russia alone. I don’t care if it’s just a class.”

  “I’m going with another student,” I explained. “We will be staying on campus at Moscow University and we will be going to class all day for three weeks.”

  “Who’s the other student?” mom asked.

  “My friend Tania,” I replied.

  “That girl you talk to online?” mom asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  Mom took a big gulp of her wine. “So, you want to go to a dangerous country with a girl you only know online for three weeks to study history at a university that you’ve never been to and know virtually nothing about. Is that right?”

  “It sounds ridiculous when you put it that way,” I grumbled.

  “It does sound ridiculous,” she said. “Now, after hearing the brass tacks of the situation, are you still telling me you intend to do this?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “I can’t stop you, as much as I would like to,” mom said. “So, as much as I would like to slap you right in the face and tell you that this is not happening; I can’t. You’re an adult, and you have to do stupid things to learn. I don’t want you to do this. You understand that, right?”

  “Yes I do.”

  She turned to Dr. Al. “You know what you’ve done,” she said.

  “I had nothing to do with this. She got the flyer and signed up. I had no say in it at all,” he replied.

  “You know what could happen,” mom said to Dr. Al.

  “I know.”

  “Did I miss something?” I asked. “It’s like I’m five and you’re talking about me, but I’m right here.”

  “I don’t need to explain anything to you, young lady. I won’t try and stop you, but you will make sure that I can reach you at all times, you will call me every day, you will stay on that campus while you are there, you will make sure that you do not go out alone, and you had better come home in one piece.”

  “I think you worry too much.”

  “I think you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  “That’s why it’s an adventure. So, you have a list of rules. Is that it?” I asked.

  “I have one rule that you must obey, is that fair?” she asked me.

  “What?”

  “You will not take your grandmother’s ring with you.”

  The Ring of the Queen