Heads You Win

“But where do I start?” Elena asked as Alex filled the sink with warm water and began to wash the dishes.

“With the Post,” said Dimitri, reverting to English.

“The post?” said Elena. “But I’m not expecting any letters.”

“The Brighton Beach Post,” said Dimitri, picking up the newspaper he’d bought from the boy on the street. “Every day it has a jobs section,” he said, turning the pages until he reached the classified advertisements. He ignored accountancy, business opportunities, car sales, only stopping when he reached catering. His finger moved down the column until he came to “Cooks.”

“Cook wanted in Chinese restaurant,” he read out. “Must speak Mandarin.” They all burst out laughing. “Pastry chef required in an Italian restaurant” sounded more promising, until he added, “must be fully trained sous-chef. Italian preferred.” He moved on. “Pizza cook—”

“What’s a pizza?” asked Elena, as Alex drained the sink and rejoined them at the table.

“It’s the latest thing,” said Dimitri. “A dough base, with different toppings, for variety.” He checked the location. “And it’s only a couple of blocks away, so we could call by tomorrow morning. They’re offering a dollar an hour, so you could make as much as forty dollars a week while you look for something better. They’ll be lucky to get you,” he added.

Elena didn’t reply, because her head was resting on a table that didn’t move. She was fast asleep.

* * *

“The first thing we’re going to have to do,” said Dimitri after they’d finished breakfast, “is get you some new clothes. No one’s going to give you a job dressed like that.”

“But we haven’t got any money,” protested Elena.

“That won’t be a problem. Most of the stallholders are happy to give credit.”

“Credit?” said Elena.

“Buy now, pay later. Everyone in America does it.”

“I don’t,” said Elena firmly, placing her hands on her hips. “Earn now, and only buy when you can afford it.”

“Then we’ll have to try the Goodwill shop on Hudson. Maybe they’ll be willing to give you something for nothing.”

“Charity is for those in real need, not for those capable of doing a day’s work,” said Elena, reverting to her native tongue.

“I don’t think you’ll have much chance of being offered a job even in a pizza parlor if you look like a Russian refugee who’s just got off the boat,” said Dimitri.

Alex nodded his agreement.

Elena was finally silenced.

Dimitri took a five-dollar note out of his pocket and handed it to Elena.

“Thank you,” said Elena, reluctantly accepting it. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get a job.”

“The Goodwill store opens at nine,” said Dimitri. “We must be waiting outside at one minute to.”

“Why so early?” asked Alex, determined only to speak English.

“A lot of people clear out their wardrobes at the weekend, so the best deals are always on a Monday morning.”

“Then let’s get going,” said Alex, who couldn’t wait to be back on the street. He wanted to see if the boy was still standing on the corner selling newspapers, because he hoped his mother would also allow him to look for a job, perhaps even as a trader on one of the stalls.

“And then we must look for a good school that will take Alex,” said Elena, dashing her son’s hopes.

“But I want to start working,” pleaded Alex, “so we can both earn some money.”

“If you hope to end up with a worthwhile position, and eventually earn a proper salary,” said Elena, “you’ll have to go back to school and make sure you’re offered a place at university.”

Alex couldn’t hide his disappointment, but he knew this was the one thing his mother wouldn’t compromise on.