Heads You Win

Elena tentatively stepped forward, her eyes never leaving the man seated on a high stool behind a wooden desk, wearing a dark blue uniform with three stars on his lapels. Uniforms only meant one thing to Elena—trouble. And the more stars, the more trouble. As she approached the desk Alex pushed past her and gave the officer a huge grin, which was met with a frown. Dimitri pulled him back.

“Are you one family?” the officer asked.

“No, sir,” replied Dimitri. “But I am an American citizen,” he said, handing over his passport.

The officer turned the pages slowly, checking dates and entry stamps before handing it back. He then opened a drawer in his desk, extracted a long form, placed it on the counter, and picked up a pen. He turned his attention to the woman in front of him, who appeared to be shaking.

“What is your full name?”

“Alexander Konstantinovitch Karpenko.”

“Not you,” he said firmly. He pointed his pen at Elena.

“Elena Ivanova Karpenko.”

“Do you speak English?”

“A little, sir.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Leningrad, in the Soviet Union.”

The officer filled in a couple of boxes before he continued. “Are you this lady’s husband?” he asked Dimitri.

“No, sir. Mrs. Karpenko is my cousin, and her son, Alex, is my nephew.”

Elena obeyed Dimitri’s instructions and said nothing, because she wasn’t willing to lie.

“So where is your husband?” asked the officer, his pen poised.

“He was—” began Dimitri.

“The question was addressed to Mrs. Karpenko, not you,” the officer said equally firmly.

“The KGB killed my husband,” said Elena, unable to hold back the tears.

“Why?” demanded the officer. “Was he a criminal?”

“No!” said Elena, raising her head in defiance. “Konstantin was a good man. He was the works supervisor at the Leningrad docks, and they killed him when he tried to set up a trade union.”

“They kill you for that in the Soviet Union?” said the officer in disbelief.

“Yes,” said Elena, bowing her head once again.

“How did you and your son manage to escape?”

“My brother, who also worked on the docks, helped smuggle us onto a ship bound for America.”

“With the help of your cousin, no doubt,” said the officer, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” said Dimitri. “Her brother, Kolya, is a brave man, and with God’s help we will get him out as well, because he hates the communists every bit as much as we do.”

The mention of God’s help and hatred of the communists brought a smile to the officer’s face. He filled in several more boxes.

“Are you willing to act as a sponsor for Mrs. Karpenko and her son?” the officer asked Dimitri.

“Yes, sir,” responded Dimitri without hesitation. “They will live at my home in Brighton Beach, and as Elena is an excellent cook it shouldn’t be too difficult for her to find a job.”