Our glimmer of hope from yesterday did not work out. We got a call at nine from the Judge to be at the Zhitomer office of Irina Patrina, the boss of the clerk who caused the trouble for us in Radomischle. The judge had spoken with her boss, who was supposedly very high up, and this man was supposed to have told her to solve this problem NOW. (Correction to yesterday’s entry: the man we described as the clerk’s boss was not her boss but a supervisor in another division.)
Irina Patrina’s office is in the former communist party headquarters building right across the Lenin plaza outside our apartment window. It’s a grand old building, despite the lack of interior lighting (we used a flashlight to read the door signs) and poor upkeep. You could picture Stalin himself descending the grand staircases and pounding down the wide, tall corridors, his boots resounding on the herringbone pattern of (now weathered) red oak flooring.
We were greeted at Irina’s office by a cold stare. She demanded the court order from Svieta and promptly told us it was not a legal order and there was nothing she could do.
We called the judge from outside her office. He called us back and told us to go see her boss, Viktor Vasiljevich. This man had a VERY impressive office with comfortable chairs, an expensive carpet, handmade wooden furniture, and lots of certificates on the wall. We were sure he would take care of everything. It looked even better when he showed me a certificate from a legal course he’d taken in Michigan and we had a nice talk about his visit there. We were old chums!
But once we set down to speak, his tone changed a little. And I knew, as soon as he called Irina Patrina to come and join us, that the jig was up. She launched into a respectful (to her boss) and dramatic presentation about how this was not a legal order. How there are only certain types of cases in Ukraine where an immediate execution order can be issued and that adoptions are not among them.
He thought a while and then agreed with her. We called the judge. The judge spoke with Irina Patrina. She seemed to win the argument. When she hung up the phone, a smile fluttered across her face. Lauren and I both caught this and it infuriated us.
There was nothing to do. I told Svieta to tell her that I had noticed the smile on her face when she finished her conversation with the judge and that I was sorry to see that it gave her pleasure to cause other people so much pain.
We regrouped at our favorite coffee house, Julius Meinl, to consider our options. Should one of us go home for the 10 day period (actually 13 due to the timing of the weekends and the Orthodox Christmas on January 7)? Our business is sorely in need of attention. We have projects on hold. There are new contracts to negotiate. We haven’t billed anything in a month.
Should we move to Kiev so that we could have better access to the internet and maybe commute to Radomischle every other day to see the children? Nastia would understand, but Sasha is only four….
We drove to each of the schools and had great visits. We get closer to them every day. Nastia was so excited to receive a bottle of nail polish from Lauren. She couldn’t wait for Lauren to give her a manicure! (Lauren: And laughed that beautiful giggly laugh of hers when Michael insisted on polishing his pinky. Also, we managed to fit in a game of rummy, which Nastia gleefully won. And we had another “heart to heart” during which I told her if it should happen that we don’t come one day, we will be there the next day. But we are going NOWHERE without her and Sasha. And we are only going to America with them. That seemed to hit home and Nastia couldn’t contain her smile. That was one of if not the warmest moment of the day, at least for me.)
At Sasha’s, the boys were all in their beds at the end of their naptime when we arrived. I went over to Sasha’s bed and picked him up but as you know, everything has to be done just so with him. No hugging till he was properly dressed. Even that, he needs to do for himself. I hope he doesn’t lose his independent streak.
Then the other boys got jealous of the hugs and kisses we gave him. They all wanted to be kissed and they lined up while I hugged and kissed each one.
We found out that Timur, his best friend, who is six, has a mother who works in the bar right next to the orphanage. She never visits. Nobody knows who the father is. Apparently not even the mother. Timur is a very good kid with a huge smile and a generous heart.
When we left Sasha’s his teacher told him to give his mama and papa a kiss. He ran over with a big smile and kissed both of us on our cheeks. These were his first kisses to us!