Valentine Steam Room

Not being a big observer of what I snarkily think of as "Hallmark Holidays", I went about the Wednesday February 14th morning by packing up the gym bag and heading out. I wanted to check out the new yoga class while it was in progress, to see if this was going to be my thing or not, and robustly swim some laps and do the jacuzzi-steam ritual. Weekdays at the gym present you with a completely different crowd than the weekend and after-work groups, and there were a lot of the regulars in the pool aerobics class, all over 60 and doing more chatting than kicking & stretching.

Over the weekend a friend had asked me about The Russian, and I had to admit I hadn't seen him in a long time, and the last time I had, he seemed fragile and disengaged. I thought about him this morning, knowing he was one of the weekday members, maybe someone could tell me how he's doing.

Entering the pool area, in the midst of a large class in the pool, without my eyes on, I glide through the noise and fog in the direction I need to go, and almost walk into a man extending his hand to me. It's The Russian, and he's got color in his face, he's smiling and shakes my hand firmly. We both step into the jacuzzi and he is eager to tell me a new joke, "Thees is polite," and while two other women step in behind us, he delivers the punch line with the worst attempt at a Yiddish accent I could ever imagine. Then he explains the joke to me, and I frankly am just so happy to have run into him today that I let him labor on with the tangents just to hear his resonant Moscovian tones burr off the tiled room. If only I could have called my pal so she could hear his voice and know why this unexplained magnetism pulls me in every time. When the heat gets to be too much, I get out and sit in one of the seats beside the pool so I can still hear him telling stories in the jacuzzi, he has a droll sense of humor, and is totally authoritative.

One of these days I am going to get brave and just tell him I want to hear more of his stories, let me write the book, there are hours and hours of his voice to be immersed in, to travel inside the Soviet Union and Cuba and the other places he went as a "consultant". There hasn't even been the occasion in the years I've been acquainted with him to tell him I studied Russian in school, have Russian cats, read Russian literature, studied Russian history...he may have been a Soviet, but he's from Moscow and is Russian. His English is perfect, absolutely perfect. His accent, however, is absolutely 100% Boris & Natasha, Cold Warrior Incarnate. What do you call someone who is completely carried away by vocal qualities (other than ridiculous)?
Today you can call me pleased, and feeling maybe this Valentine-thing has glimmering facets Hallmark could never imagine.