Hello, Privet! #1: Hello/Привет

Chapter 24

SOPHIE

"We are really hoping for Cassidy to get into Harvard next year, Sophie," says Mrs. Whelan. She folds her hands in her lap as if in supplication. "Can you help us?"

I note the use of the collective pronouns 'we' and 'us.' For most families, getting a child into the Ivies is a very big deal and is a family effort. If you aren't legacy, or from an ethnic minority, or from other states, it will be much harder to get into a top school like Harvard. I guess parents still think their children will only be successful if they get into an Ivy, and failure to do so will be seen as a major life setback. College admissions are brutal in the sense that for the first time, young people are measured as adults for their potential to succeed later in life. All that stress and disappointment and expense—as if an elite education is essential to make something of your life. I mean, look at me. Even if I got into Harvard, I'm a dropout and interviewing for a tutoring job.

I smile politely at Mrs. Whelan.

We are in their apartment at Sutton Place, drinking tea and eating tiny sandwiches, talking about her daughter's chances of getting into Harvard.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

"Will Cassidy get into Harvard?" she asks me again.

"Do you want my honest assessment?" I ask gently.

"Yes, Ms. Rosenbaum. Please." Poor Mrs. Whelan is looking at me as if I'm a doctor about to tell her the bad news. At that moment, I feel a twinge of envy. I wonder what it's like to be so optimistic about the future like that, thinking that nothing can possibly go wrong, and that her daughter was going to have a bright, successful life, if only she could get into Harvard. I wish I had that kind of blind optimism and belief in the future. It would certainly make everything easier for my family.

I smile at Mrs. Whelan sympathetically. "I'll have a few backup schools if I were you," I say slowly. "Maybe Cornell?"

"Cornell?" Her face falls with disappointment. "But Cornell is barely an Ivy."

I was even about to suggest going somewhere out of state, but I hold my tongue and continue smiling sympathetically. Cassidy used to be tutored by Minju, and Minju says that what she did was do Cassidy's homework for her while Cassidy talked about clothes, movie stars, or Gossip Girl or what socialites are doing.

"Well—she's going to have to bring up those math grades, for a start. But you know, she can't make it on her own if she can't even grasp the fundamentals."

"Please help her, Ms. Rosenbaum. We are counting on you."

ANTON

What I like about Dr. Rosenbaum is he never even makes a comment about my bruises. I am healing quickly. In a few days, the evidence from what happened in London will be gone. I say to him, "This morning, I called to Russia to my mother and I told her she's probably going to see it on TV."

"Uh-huh. What are you referring to?"

"Kirill—he saw it in some magazines and saw it on TV. You read it?"

"Actually, no. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Anais and I—we broke up."

"Oh."

"I am just worried about all these people, the Russian press, everyone, all wanting to talk to me about it. I am tired of it." I shrug. "You saw it on TV?"

"I don't watch TV."

"Good. Then you did not see me leave my press conference."

"Ah...the one about the Russo-Georgian conflict. It was on YouTube. John sent me the link."

"What did you think of it?"

"Your fans seem to like that you say exactly what you think. They agreed that the reporters should have asked you about tennis and not about the war." Dr. Rosenbaum smiles. "But that does not mean that what you did was acceptable behavior."

I gesture impatiently. "I know, I know. I still paid the fine for leaving the press conference. These are the rules and there is nothing I can do about it."

Dr. Rosenbaum coughs. "They were also asking you about your girlfriend—"

"The press has nothing to do with my personal life."

"This topic offends you?"

"I don't know what to say when they ask me these questions."

"Just tell them the truth, the way you're telling me."

"Yes, but I do not feel comfortable talking about my life to strangers."

"You have said the same thing about me before."

"Yeah, but the reporters, they don't even care. They just want to tell the most interesting story of the day. Why they are interested in me—I cannot understand." I wave my hand. "But they talk about you all the time. I hate it. So I lose my roof—blow my roof—when they ask me these things."

"You have to understand these people have a role to play, they have a job to do. When you became a star tennis player, you knew this was something you would have to deal with as well."

"Yeah, John told me at the beginning, I was young, you see. They said to my mother, my life will change if I do this."

"Uh-huh." Dr. Rosenbaum writes something in his notebook. "How do you think this has affected the way you deal with others?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask them?" I say, remembering her—the girl—the devochka who went with us to Toronto.

"Do you think people treat you differently because of this?"

I shrug. "I show up and I can—I can get anything in seconds. This is the only good thing about being me."

"And these people around you—"

"Why are they important?"

"It's a reflection of what you are like, the people around you. If they are happy to be with you, not only out of duty."

"Kirill is my true friend. And there is Kolya, you know. We all play tennis." I shrug. "We have been friends for a long time." Then I remember that Kirill is leaving.

"What about other people? For example, Henry—"

"Henry was trying to change me."

"But isn't this the reason why he was hired in the first place?"

"What? Please, I don't understand."

"You hired him to introduce changes to your game because obviously you think some things were not working before—"

"Okay—that is true." Then I shrug. "But I keep telling you, I cannot stop myself when I fight with him."

"Perhaps you need to work out your aggression in a different way—"

"How?"

"Sometimes taking a walk helps."

"What if I am in the match and I cannot walk?"

"That can be a problem," Dr. Rosenbaum agrees.

"Look, I know what I have to do, and Henry—he has already told me this, but you see, I am old. I cannot change myself. I already said, I have been playing so many years." I shake my head.

"That's true." Dr. Rosenbaum nods. "But perhaps you just haven't found the right motivation to change."

"I am motivated. I want to change. You don't know how much. I just can't." I shrug. "I am the problem. Something wrong with me."