Oksana by Quinn M. Kelley - HTML preview

Chapter XIII.

The same day I was given the shadow boxing demonstration, about the Russian Mafia, I took some photos with her in front of the Black Sea coastline, as well as the Itaka Night Club.

I took photos of Oksana on a bench in front of a school. On the other side of the street, he saw a brown bear chained to a stationary streetlight, wearing a muzzle.

The second trip presented me with several added attractions I had not seen on the first visit. The Marine Fleet Museum, on Lanjeronovskaya Street, and the walk by The Columns, near Vorontsovsky Palace.

The Potemkin Steps, I walked many more times on my second trip than my first. I walked out to the port, to pier off into the shipyard. Once again, we did not make it to the Odessa Opera House (under construction), and I did not get to step inside a Russian Orthodox Church.

We did encounter one nefarious nun, as we approached the doorway.

Observations on the street? It starts before one American steps toe onto a brick of any Odessean Street. Before one is to encounter a pair of Ukrainian Militiamen, a foreigner is required to wear his or her U.S. Passport around their neck for proper presentation.

I was only asked to do this at the airport. I was also asked to speak Russian only, on the street. Oksana told me in Odessa, in March 2004, that I was more sick and poor than I was during my last visit (July 2003).

Oksana enjoyed looking American, dressing in her Adidas nylon running suit, expensive Air Max Running Shoes, her Samsung cell-phone, and expensive Italian Leather Coat. I had bought her all these things, and all she seemed to want was more, more, more.

It was not going to last forever. It could not. Oksana had concrete feet; and her mother controlled her natural instincts to take to the skies with me. Oksana was pointing out to me the vehicle she wanted one day; a cute, blue Toyota car, parked under the Odessa-Kempinski Hotel.

I just smiled ear to ear; I believed it was another poke in my ribs. It was just another subtle reminder that I was never going to be able to furnish all the “material luxuries” that aspired to her senses.

Sex was not one of those euphoric locks that I perceived existed. This would be a relationship fissure. No give and take. I gave her my heart, like a fool, and she put a dagger through the center of it.

I gave Oksana back rubs and put her to sleep in the late afternoons, when we were taking long walks. Living in that climate would take a toll on one's body.

I really wanted to get her to America, to provide her with a better existence.