Virginia Slims and California Dreams, Part 5

Virginia Slims and California Dreams
Part 5 of 5
Copyright 1997 by drhumo@juno.com
Reproduced here with permission of author


	Elena knew that she needed to communicate her profound gratitude
to Michael for introducing these wonderful cigarettes to her.  She
devised a plan.

	The next time Marta came for dinner, Elena told her that she
wanted to write another letter to Michael to thank him especially for one
of the gifts.  As wonderful as everything he sent had been, one gift
stood out.  But she wanted to pen this letter in her own hand, not on
Marta's old manual typewriter.  Perhaps Marta could help her draft the
letter, and she would write it over in her own hand after dinner.  

	Marta, along with Elena's family, could clearly see the
blossoming love between Elena and Michael halfway around the world.  They
were understanding and quick to oblige her request.  Elena and Marta
collaborated on the following letter, which Marta wrote neatly in pencil
on some old paper:

Dearest Michael,

I want to thank you again for all of the wonderful gifts you sent to me
and to my family.  We have feasted on all of the wonderful food you sent
us, and everyone is just dazzled by the clothes you sent.

But Michael, I want you to know that one of the gifts was even more
wonderful than the others.  One of them made me realize just how much I
care for you and how much you must care for me.  Of course, I am talking
about the French perfume.  In all my life, I have never experienced
anything so beautiful.  Its aroma nearly intoxicates me:  I have never
smelled anything so sweet before in my life.  I want you to know that I
use it every day, and each time I do, I think about the wonderful man
that sent it to me.  It is unlike anything we have here.

Michael, thank you for everything, but especially thank you for the
wonderful perfume.

All my love,

Elena.

That night in her room, Elena re-wrote the letter on the finest
stationery she could find.  She wasn't sure that she had the grammar just
right, but she was sure that the letter would convey her true feelings:


Dearest Michael,

I want to thank you again for all of the wonderful gifts you sent to me
and to my family.  We have feasted on all of the wonderful food you sent
us, and everyone is just dazzled by the clothes and perfume you sent.

But Michael, I want you to know that one of the gifts was even more
wonderful than the others.  One of them made me realize just how much I
care for you and how much you must care for me.  Of course, I am talking
about the Virginia Slims cigarettes.  In all my life, I have never
experienced anything so beautiful.  Its aroma nearly intoxicates me:  I
have never smelled anything so sweet before in my life.  I want you to
know that I use it every day, and each time I do, I think about the
wonderful man that sent it to me.  It is unlike anything we have here.

Michael, thank you for everything, but especially thank you for the
wonderful cigarettes.

All my love,

Elena.


	She set the letter aside, ready to post it the next day, and went
to sleep.  She dreamed of Michael.  She dreamed of life in California
with him.  She dreamed of their declaring their love before the world and
before God.  She dreamed of their consummating that love before one
another in their bedroom.  And she dreamed of consummating that love on
the highest spiritual plane by sharing cigarettes forever.

               -                -                  -

	It had been almost three weeks since Michael had sent the large
parcel to Elena.  In the meantime, he had received three letters from
her, although he was somewhat disappointed to see that they had obviously
been written prior to her receipt of the package.

	Finally, one afternoon as he returned from work, there was
another letter from Elena.  This one was obviously smaller, and he
realized that it must be a short thank-you note.  He had begun to realize
his love for Elena, smoker or non-smoker, and he feared that some offense
might have been taken at his gift.  He was relieved to see how graciously
Elena had accepted.  He quickly scanned the letter for any mention of the
cigarettes, but was not surprised to find no particular mention.

	His eyes, however, jumped to the typewritten word "everything".  
Elena had obviously underlined it in her own hand after someone else had
typed the letter.  He interpreted the underlining to mean, at the least,
that she had not taken any offense.  But he wondered whether it meant she
would actually use the cigarettes.  He looked at one of her photos and
imagined her smoking.  It seemed so natural, but at the same time he
harbored doubts that his sweet girlfriend would even want to try a
cigarette.

	Being now well aware that his correspondence probably went
through a friend of Elena's parents, Michael made quite sure that he
didn't mention anything about smoking.  However, he sent photographs
quite frequently, and he always made sure that some of them showed him
smoking a cigarette.

	Two weeks later, he received the letter that Elena had created by
her ruse.  By the mistakes in the grammar, he almost immediately
understood how she had manufactured the letter with the unwitting help of
the translator.  He was ecstatic that his distant love could love smoking
as much as he did.  He kissed her picture and whispered, "I love you. . .
your secret is safe with me, dear."

                -               -                       -

	Her first package of cigarettes had lasted Elena almost two
weeks.  For her first month as a smoker, she smoked only two or three
cigarettes a day.  Her supply of two hundred cigarettes seemed infinite. 
After a month, however, her pace of smoking began to increase.  At first,
she would smoke three cigarettes almost every day.  Soon she was bold
enough to smoke occasionally after her class at the University.  By now,
everyone knew of her American boyfriend, and the cigarettes were seen as
an almost natural part of her eventual Americanization.

	She saw two problems, however, with her new life as a smoker. 
First, life as a closet smoker was going to be hard.  It was becoming
increasingly difficult for her to stay at home with her parents, who had
no idea that she smoked.  Occasionally when they were out, she would find
one of her father's cigarettes and smoke it near an open window.  While
these cigarettes satisfied her growing hunger for nicotine, she found
them woefully inadequate in giving her the kind of pleasure she derived
from her Virginia Slims.

	She had, however, resorted to pilfering her father's cheap
cigarettes because of the other problem.  What had initially appeared as
an infinite supply was now dwindling.  One evening she counted and
realized that she only had 43 cigarettes left:  Two unopened packages and
one package with only three.  Even if she rationed carefully and smoked
only two a day, her supply would still be depleted in three weeks.  She
couldn't imagine life now without her Virginia Slims, and she knew she
had to get word to Michael.  Fortunately, that night Marta was coming to
dinner.

	Most of the groceries that Michael had sent had been consumed
long ago.  There was, however, one tin of coffee and one box of
chocolates that had been set aside for a special occasion.  Alexsandr
poured all of them a glass of cognac after dinner.  As her father smoked
a cigarette with his drink, Elena felt the now familiar hunger for one of
her Virginia Slims.  Satisfying her own urges would have to wait,
however, as she needed to attend to her urgent message to Michael.

	She asked her father, "you know what would go well with this
cognac?"  She immediately realized the irony of her question.  Of course,
there was only one thing that would go with it, and that was one of her
Virginia Slims.  But, she continued with her ruse:  "One of those
chocolates that Michael sent would be perfect right now."

	All in attendance agreed, and Elena fetched the box of
chocolates. As they removed five pieces, only a handful remained.  Elena,
in keeping with her plan, pointed this out to everyone.  Then she
suggested that perhaps she should write to Michael and ask for some more.

	Elena's mother was the first to respond, and quickly attempted to
veto the idea.  "Elena," she retorted, "Michael seems like a very
high-cultured man.  I think he might look down on a woman who begs for
one particular gift."  

	Elena thought to herself, "If I'm right in my suspicions, he will
love it if I request the particular gift I really want."

	She responded to her mother, "oh, I don't think so.  He's said
many times now that whatever he can do for me would please him.  I think
he would take it as a great compliment if we requested these, especially
as he knows we can't get ci--chocolates this good here."

	Elena was convincing, and soon she and Marta were busy drafting a
letter to Michael thanking him for the chocolates and very politely
asking him whether it would be possible to send a few more.  

	Alexsandr offered to mail the letter the next morning.  "Oh, no,
that's fine Papa.  I wanted to send some photographs to Michael anyway. 
So I'll put the pictures in with the letter and post them tomorrow."

	Elena just knew that Michael would understand about the
chocolates and cigarettes.  Even though the chocolate was not
particularly important, it was a needed ruse to smuggle the cigarettes to
her, so she couldn't very well do as she had done before and simply
substitute "cigarettes" for "chocolate."

	Instead, she took the letter and simply added a few
interlineations.  When the letter requested chocolate, she added a carat
and penned in the words "and cigarettes".  

	She looked at the letter, and realized that with the
interlineation, it had a certain plaintive tone to it.

	Her English had improved markedly.  She still lacked self
confidence to use it, but her English would have been entirely
understandable, even had she written the entire letter herself.  But
despite her lack of confidence in her language abilities, in order to
counter the letter's plaintiveness, she added a final postscript by
herself:

Michael, I really love the Virginia Slims and would love it if you could
send me some more.  They are almost gone.  I love them, but you know
what, Michael?  I love you even more.

	Elena mailed the letter the next day.  And when Michael read
these words, if there had been any doubt about it before, he knew that
Elena owned his heart.  Another fifty pound parcel was on its way the
same afternoon.  Of course, it consisted mostly of the same packaging
material as before.  The real reason for the shipment was carefully
packed within:  two cartons of Elena's Virginia Slims.

	Even with careful rationing, Elena had run out of Virginia Slims
almost a week before the parcel arrived.  At first, she had decided that
she would simply wait.  The first morning, however, showed her the
futility.  She woke up even before dawn with a deep hunger for one of her
beloved cigarettes.  She knew that there could be a long wait ahead.  She
pilfered two of her father's cigarettes, and on the way to the University
that morning, lit one with her pink bic lighter.

	The strong Russian cigarette quickly put an end to her nicotine
cravings.  After the mentholated Virginia tobacco to which she had been
accustomed, however, the cigarette's taste depressed her.  She thought of
Michael and how much she missed him.  Doubt began to creep into her mind.
 As much as she loved him, she wondered whether he really loved her. 
Maybe he had forgotten all about her and found some California girl who
really knew how to smoke.  

	And she began to have doubts about the postscript she had added
to the last letter.  Perhaps she had been a fool to proclaim her love. 
And though something told her she was wrong, she thought that perhaps
Michael had been offended when she said that she loved him more than the
cigarettes.  What she didn't know, however, was that far from being
offended, Michael would view this as a most sincere confession of love. 
Michael would understand.

	In her depression, Elena surmised that possibly she could bear to
live without her Virginia Slims.  But the thought of losing both her
cigarettes and her Michael seemed too much to bear.

	That week passed drearily for Elena.  She stopped at the market
that first afternoon and bought some cigarettes.  She saw a vendor
selling some Marlboros like Christina had smoked, but the vendor would
have wanted American dollars for the American cigarettes, and Elena had
none.  She had to settle for the same kind of cheap Russian cigarettes
both her father and Pasha smoked.

	The very thought of smoking the same kind of cigarettes as Pasha
sickened her.  Had she not already been so addicted to the nicotine, she
probably would have sworn off smoking then and there.  As the week
passed, all she could think about was these Russian cigarettes in their
ugly package and how sad it would be to have to marry someone like Pasha.
 She knew that she needed two things to live:  She needed Michael and she
needed her Virginia Slims.

	After an agonizing week, the fifty-pound parcel arrived.  Elena
tore it open, left the groceries for her parents and ran to her room with
the precious red box that had been packed in the interior.  She looked
briefly at the clothes that Michael had sent, but her eyes soon fixed on
the two cartons of Virginia Slims.  She took one package, hid the rest of
the red box in her armoire, and with hardly a word raced out the door
with one pack of cigarettes and her pink lighter.

	Five minutes later, she stopped in a park, tore open the package
and furiously smoked one of her cigarettes.  After becoming accustomed to
the much stronger Russian cigarettes, however, she found that she needed
a second, and then a third, Virginia Slim.  An hour later, much more
composed, she returned home.

	When pressed for an explanation of her sudden departure, she
quickly composed a story of wanting to tell a friend about her good
fortune of receiving the package.  All thought it odd, of course, that
she would apparently abandon the treasure trove immediately upon
receiving it.

	Elena did resolve that in the future, she could not allow herself
to run out of cigarettes.  She would have to account for the delay in
shipping and get her request to Michael promptly.  Even though her 400
cigarettes seemed once again to be an infinite supply, she realized that
she might at some point want to smoke as many as ten cigarettes a day. 
At that rate, this supply might be exhausted in as little as 40 days! 
She vowed to request more as soon as she had finished the first carton. 

	Elena had her supply problems licked.  But there was still the
problem of being a closet smoker and not being able to smoke at home. 
Her father always smoked a cigarette after dinner, and it was becoming
more and more agonizing every day to be without one herself.  Almost
every night, she would find some excuse to go out with her girlfriends,
all of whom now knew that she smoked.

	She didn't know how to bring up the subject with her parents. 
The opportunity presented itself, however, one afternoon when her father
returned early from work.  She kissed him hello, and offered to make
Alexsandr a cup of tea.  Elena poured a cup for her father and one for
herself.  As he sat down to tea, Alexsandr reached for the cupboard where
he normally kept a pack of cigarettes.  Finding it empty, he simply sat
down.

	Elena saw the opportunity, however.  "Oh, Papa, did you want a
cigarette?"

	"Yes, but I seem to be all out.  I'll have to buy some more in
the morning."

	"You know, Papa, I forgot to mention this, but in the last
package Michael sent from America, he sent some American cigarettes.  Let
me get some for you."

	Without a further word, she went to her room and retrieved a
half-full package of Virginia Slims from her purse.  She returned to the
kitchen and offered the open box to her father.

	"Here, father, try one of these."  

	Alexsandr took one of the cigarettes and lit it with a wooden
match.  "These are very good," he mentioned.  He took a few puffs before
making two realizations.  First, why had his daughter not given him any
cigarettes sooner?  He was the only one in the household who smoked.  And
why were half of the cigarettes already missing from the package?  The
answers to these questions came to him, of course, immediately. 
Obviously Elena had been smoking, at least these ten or so cigarettes. 
But he asked her anyway.

	"Lena, why is it that this package isn't full?  Your Michael
doesn't seem to be the kind of person who would pass on a half-used box
of cigarettes?  Wasn't this package full when he sent it to you?"

	There was nothing accusatory in Alexsandr's voice.  He had simply
stated the question matter of factly.

	Elena replied, "well, I have to admit that I decided to try them
after I got them.  You know, I did really enjoy them."  She didn't reveal
that, in fact, she had more than tried them, that she had been a
full-fledged smoker now for months.

	Alexsandr suspected as much, but saw no need to put his daughter
on the defensive.  It seemed strange that a woman would smoke, and it
seemed rather alien that the smoker was his own daughter.  But over the
last few months, he had begun to resign himself to the fact that his
daughter would probably soon be a Californian, living halfway around the
world from him.  He had seen, as soon as she had begun corresponding with
Michael, that the two were falling in love.  He knew that it was only a
matter of time before they met, married, and moved to California, where
his grandchildren would be born Americans.

	Even a decade ago, the whole notion would have seemed foolish. 
Even the tiniest association with an American would have made the whole
family suspect.  Alexsandr was well acquainted with the effects of such
suspicions.  His own father had been born near Minsk.  During Stalin's
reign, the family had been forcibly relocated to the Kyrgyz Autonomous
Region, ostensibly because of his father's German heritage, but probably
due to suspicion of some Jewish blood in the line.  

	Alexsandr, who had grown up here, truly loved his Kirghizia.  The
mountains were his life and he could not imagine life elsewhere.  He saw,
however, what the forced relocation had done to his father.  When his
father saw the snow capped peaks, all he could see were prison walls.  He
died bitter, having given up any dream of a good life.

	As much as he loved Kirghizia, Alexsandr had a deep sympathy for
his father's plight.  It would have been the same for him, he supposed,
if someone forced him from this beautiful land and sent him to Minsk.  He
would be miserable there, and he assumed that for his father it was the
same.  

	After his father died, Alexsandr vowed that no matter what the
cost, he would allow his daughters to follow their dreams.  

	Ten years ago, it would have been incomprehensible that Elena's
dreams would be of California.  Alexsandr's father had called it
"Stalin's Practical Joke" when the Autonomous Region had become the
"sovereign" Kyrgyz Soviet Socialist Republic.  Though no one spoke of it,
everyone knew what "sovereign" meant:  It meant the same thing that
Stalin's word meant--it meant nothing.

	When the winds of political change came, something told Alexsandr
that it was another practical joke when the Kyrgyz Supreme Soviet
actually did what it supposedly had the power to do all along:  declare
its independence from Moscow.  At first, Alexsandr believed it no more
than he had believed in the earlier practical jokes.

	It took time, but his beliefs changed.  His tiny Republic sent
its first ambassador to the United Nations.  Turkish businessmen began to
be seen in Bishkek.  The American Vice President paid a state visit. 
Slowly, Alexsandr came to believe that his mountainous republic was a
true member--albeit a small one--of the world community.

	And if he could believe that, after what had happened to his
father--he supposed that he could believe anything.  As much as he would
miss her if she ever left this land of mountain lakes, he knew that he
would do anything for her to live her dreams.

	Alexsandr took another puff of the long American cigarette and
another sip of his tea.  He supposed that his daughter would catch her
dream, and he was happy for her.  And he knew that those American
cigarettes were part of her American dream.

	Despite his occasional philosophical whimsy, everyone who knew
Alexsandr knew him as a practical, matter-of-fact man.  So he offered to
his daughter, matter-of-factly, "well, if you like them, then why not
join your Papa for a cup of tea and a cigarette."

	Elena laughed as she joined her father and lit one of her
Virginia Slims.  It seemed strange, but she felt a bond to her father
like she had never experienced before.  Alexsandr could see that his
daughter truly enjoyed smoking--much more than he had ever enjoyed
smoking his Russian cigarettes.

	Alexsandr asked his daughter whether he could keep the rest of
the package.  She assured him that it was OK, but that she thought that
these cigarettes were really more for women.  "That's OK, Lena.  I just
want this one package."

	That night after dinner, Alexsandr poured a glass of the best
cognac for himself, his wife, Elena, and her sister.  They raised a
toast; then, he removed one of the Virginia Slims from the box and lit
it.  He remarked to no one in particular, "you know, Michael sent us
these cigarettes from California.  They're very good."

	His wife and other daughter were somewhat shocked at what he said
next.  "You know, Lena, you should try one of these.  I think someday
soon you'll be an American.  If American woman like to smoke, then maybe
you'll like to also."  

	Elena thanked her father, took the cigarette, and allowed her
father to light it with a wooden match.  After the dinner and the cognac,
this cigarette seemed to taste better than any before.  At first, her
mother and sister were shocked at what Alexsandr had done.  But they
looked at Elena.  No longer did they see a little girl from Kirghizia. 
They saw a woman of the world; an American; a Californian.  

	-                       -                            -

	Epilogue.  Michael shipped only two more cartons of Virginia
Slims to Kirghizia.  Within two months, he personally delivered two more.
 

	Elena now buys her cigarettes at a supermarket in San Jose,
California, where she lives with her husband Michael.  About once a
month, she visits a meat market in San Francisco and sends a large parcel
to her family.  Among the other items, it always contains at least a
carton of Marlboros for her father, and a carton of Virginia Slims Light
Menthol, which her sister, now a first-year student at the University,
has grown to enjoy as much as Elena does.

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