TS 2 Part VI Chapter 6

Chapter 6

October 15^th, 2010

Khanty Mansiysk.

The well known Rolls Royce parked in front of the house and Guntram sighed, letting the curtain fall across his studio window. He turned around and began to fumble with his painting robe's buttons to get rid of it. 'Why is Constantin back? I was supposed to have one more day of holidays! One, two, three, four, five, six... Massaiev is getting old.'

“There you are. Come downstairs. Mr. Kuragin is here,” Massaiev said from the door. “Wash your hands well and use the alcohol gel.”

“Have you realised that I'm almost twenty-eight years old?” Guntram replied very irked. “I'm not a child to be reminded to be clean.”

“Just do it, Fedia. You will understand it later. Hurry up!”

Grudgingly, Guntram went to the bathroom to wash his hands and apply the gel. 'Since when Constantin is so touchy? He never had troubles with the turpentine before and I'm not a careless pig. Mikhail Petrovich is overdoing it once more.'

An almost bursting with excitement Massaiev waited for the young man at the corridor and almost dragged him by the elbow to Constantin's studio, knocking the door and opening it without waiting for the answer. Guntram entered and was surprised to see the fire lit in the chimney as the Russian still considered that he was “in early Fall” and was only heating the rooms where Guntram was with him.

“Welcome home, Alexander,” Guntram greeted him and advanced only to the middle of the room, waiting for the other's man permission to approach him.

Constantin closed the distance and laced his arms around Guntram's waist to kiss him possessively. Very shyly, Guntram returned the kiss but became restless when Constantin began one of his close inspections, staring at him intensively. “Did you miss me, angel?”

“It gets lonely without you,” Guntram answered the closest to the truth he could. Constantin could always guess if he was lying and the past months without any kind of frictions between them had been a blessing for Guntram's nerves. The idea of repeating his experiences in Paraguay frightened him more than any other threat the man could do. 'He's your lover, Guntram. Learn it fast. He restored your health, gave you a new life and your art is taking you to places you never imagined you could,' told him his mind. 'I should love him, but I can't. I'm only counting the days for the year to be over.'

“Well, that is about to end, my love.” Constantin kissed him on the forehead, obtaining a nervous mandatory smile from Guntram. He led the young man by the hand to the large sofa facing the fire and walked around it and Guntram gasped, taking an involuntary step backwards when he saw it.

“What is this?” he asked with his eyes fixed in the large basket decorated with frills and laces.

“This is your baby. It's a boy, angel,” Constantin said very softly but strongly holding Guntram in case he would faint or collapse from the impression.

“My baby?” He repeated the words, feeling his head madly spinning around but Constantin steadied him.

“Yes, yours. I promised you a baby and here he is.”

“How?” he croaked.

“Artificial insemination and a foster mother. He was born six days ago in Moscow, on October 9^th at four in the afternoon. Come, sit down before you fall,” Constantin led the dazzled man to the sofa and forcefully sat him next to the basket. “Dr. Sverdloff took some samples from you when we were in Paraguay, at the beginning of your stay using a percutaneous aspiration of sperm, if you need to know. It was preserved in liquid nitrogen till we found the adequate donor.”

“Is he really mine?” Guntram asked in awe not minding much about the explanation, his mind only focused on the baby.

“I can show you the genetic tests if you want. He is a hundred percent yours.”

“Is he...?”

“Sick? That will take some years to find out. Nevertheless, there is a genetic test to identify the gene that causes your condition. Sverdloff will have the results in three weeks time. The paediatrician assured me he's in perfectly good health.”

“May I touch him?” Guntram articulated the words very slowly.

“He's your son, of course you can hold him,” Constantin answered and took some distance from the man looking at the sleeping infant. 'As I thought it would be. He's already in love with the child,'

Guntram turned around his head and contemplated Constantin for a long time with fear clearly written in his eyes. “Come on, take him,” the man coaxed him. “He will adore you too,”

“Are you really giving him to me?” Guntram asked almost crying and Constantin took his hands.

“Guntram this was the first thing I promised you and I never lied to you. You are healthy enough as to look after him. Take him and rise him as you want. He looks exactly as you. This baby is what we need to be a family. He is entirely yours as he is blood of your blood and flesh of your flesh. All his papers will be under your name, angel.”

A giggle escaped from Guntram's lips and he put his hand over his mouth to suffocate it and his eyes shone like Constantin had never seen before. Unexpectedly, he jumped over Constantin and kissed him on the lips for a brief moment, chuckling like a child.

He turned his back to Constantin and delicately removed just a bit the white covers and looked at the soundly asleep baby, his head covered with a bonnet. Guntram looked at the little face and fought against his desire to touch the point of his rounded nose or his rosy cheeks or smooth his frown. He bent his body over the basket and carefully tried to put the bonnet away but the baby huffed and squirmed, upset that someone had disturbed his sleep. Guntram removed his hand very quickly and Constantin chuckled softly.

“No doubt he's yours. You do the same every time I want to wake you up. Being a dormouse runs in your family, angel. He has been sleeping since we took off, four hours ago. He should be hungry soon. Pick him up; he is not going to break.”

Still hesitating but burning with the desire of having his son in his arms, Guntram entirely removed the cover and saw the thick pyjama the child was wearing before he cradled him against his chest until the baby squirmed and woke up, fixing his partly open eyes on his father.

“They are blue,” Guntram whispered in awe. “Just like mine.”

“He has your sweet nature too, but we shouldn't abuse his kindness, Fedia. He needs a bottle and soon,” Constantin said and the silent Massaiev left the room. “He's gone to look for his nanny. She's a trained nurse and will help you.”

“Will you take him away from me?” Guntram looked at the man heartbroken.

“No, never. He's yours but we need her to clean him, change him and for all the things babies need,” he reassured him, taking his hands and slightly squeezing them to comfort his lover.

“We have nothing prepared for him,” Guntram realised.

“He has more than enough clothes and milk, angel. Tomorrow you will choose what you want for his room.”

“I don't know what to say to you,” started Guntram, but a rubicund woman with a bottle in her hand interrupted him and the words died in his mouth. She spoke to him in Russian and Constantin made a dismissive gesture with his hand and she left the room, leaving the warm bottle over the table.

“That was Galina Ivanovna. She only speaks Russian, but she's very good and has a lot of experience,” Constantin said as he grabbed the bottle and passed it to Guntram who offered it to his son. “How are you going to call him?”

“I don't know,” Guntram murmured, with his eyes glued to the child strongly sucking the teat. “He's so beautiful.”

“He takes most of your features, yes, he is.”

“Where is he going to sleep tonight?”

“In his crib. He has a portable one. How about the suite that is at the end of the corridor? The nurse can take the small bedroom next to it and we will still have some privacy.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.” Guntram answered mind absently, enthralled by the way the baby was drinking his milk, glad to be gently rocked once more.

* * *

During dinner Guntram was restless, almost not touching his food, his mind racing about the child. He had not doubts the baby was his, something inside him screamed that he was his son, but he was growing more and more concerned. 'What if Constantin takes him away? What if he hurts him to make obey? What if someone hurts him? What if I die? What would happen to him? I could never escape from here with him or live without him.'

“Did you decide how you are going to call him? We only have five days to register him at the city hall.” Constantin asked him as he drank from his wine. “Don't you like your dinner?” he inquired with a well known edge to his voice and Guntram quickly swallowed a piece of meat.

“Not really,” he lied. 'I want to call him Konrad but that's like waving a red flag in front of a raging bull.'

“Guntram?” Constantin suggested.

“No, it's an odd name, Alexander and he should be independent from me. Guntram Junior sounds horrible.”

“Yes, it sounds like an used cars salesman's name,” Constantin chuckled and observed how Guntram had started to eat without any kind of complaints. 'Sometimes, you have to remind him where the boundaries lay although his attitude toward me has significantly improved.'

“May I call him Conor? With one “n” only,” Guntram asked out of the blue, surprising Constantin with his choice.

“Conor? An Irish name?”

“I always liked it and he's your baby too, He's here because of you. I would have never had the courage to have him on my own. Conor is almost like Con, you know?” Guntram blurted at full speed, unable to believe that he was risking it. 'If I call the baby Con, he will learn easily Konrad when he's older. Thank you Konrad for your jealousy outburst.'

“I don't follow your logics, Fedia.”

“I also liked Constantin when I was young,” he mumbled. “He's yours too.”

The Russian examined Guntram very carefully, not believing for a second that Guntram was accepting his rule over him so meekly.

“I'm very grateful to you, Alexander. It's the dream of my life and you made it come true.” Guntram said with a quiet voice, looking into the man's eyes. “You also saved my life.”

“It's an odd choice.”

“Perhaps you know a Russian equivalent, but Conor Tarasov sounds very well.”

“Conor Fyodorovich Tarasov sounds well but it's not very Russian,”

“I'm not really Russian. I was born in Uruguay and they use a lot of English names like Washington, Nelson, Irving or Walter,” Guntram supported his case.

“Yes, that's true. I remember someone from Uruguay called Washington as first name,” Constantin chuckled. “Very well, my angel. If that's your wish we will call him Conor,” he agreed with a soft smile and squeezed the small hand over the table.

“Thank you.” Guntram kissed Constantin's hand with real gratitude, before he rose from his chair and knelt in front of Constantin, who firmly grabbed his face and kissed the soft lips that matched his passion.

'I should do everything to avoid Constantin to become jealous. He should never think that baby Konrad comes first. Konrad was very jealous when the boys were born and he was their biological father.'

Constantin interrupted the kiss when he heard a soft whimper from the basket. “Someone wants his bottle too, angel. Go now and call Galina to take him to bed,” he said very sweetly. He watched how Guntram picked up his son from the basket, kissing him on the forehead, rocking him softly, before he offered the baby to Constantin with a shy smile.

The man took the baby with ease. “Fedia, he needs a bottle, not only love. Ring the bell and she will come,” he said with a smile. “Trust me, I had four and I know what I'm speaking about.”

“That's true. You have more experience than I. Do you really like Conor?”

“He's your baby and hopefully you will share him with me. I love anything that comes from you.”

* * *

Standing at the door of the new nursery, Constantin sighed. “Angel, let him sleep alone. He's fine and the nanny will look after him during the night.”

“I can't believe he is here,” Guntram whispered, his eyes not leaving the crib. With his right hand he rearranged the covers and continued to look at the infant.

“Let him sleep. Tomorrow you will choose what you like for him. It was also a very long day for him and he needs to rest.” Constantin closed the distance between them and put his arms around Guntram's waist, pressing him against his body. “Conor sleeps exactly as you.”

“Are you telling me that I'm a dormouse too?” Guntram asked with a playful smile, placing his hands on Constantin's shoulders.

“Seems to run in the family,” Constantin breathed the words in his angel's ear. “But I don't believe he will be as gorgeous as you are.”

“No, he will be a hundred times better. I swear to be with him for as long I live. You have done what no one ever did for me and I love you for this.”

“Do you forgive me for taking you away?”

“Yes, I do. Without you, I would have never had Conor. I never thought you were serious about this,” Guntram said with a small voice and kissed Constantin, blending his body against the man, forgetting everything as he burnt his last ship down.

* * *

October 16^th, 2010

Guntram stood in front of the car, holding his baby against his chest, slightly concerned with the very cold wind blowing. 'Will this be enough to keep him warm?' he wondered and pulled the cover close around the thermal suit the baby was wearing.

The chauffeur-guard opened the door of the large Land Rover and Guntram saw a baby seat already placed inside. With great care he set the child in and covered him once more before he sat next to him, watching how Constantin casually spoke with Massaiev. 'Is he really going to let me have him?'

“Fedia, is this not too much for the child?” Constantin asked when he entered in the car and saw the well covered baby. “We are not in winter yet. He will roast inside those clothes.”

“It's about to snow, Alexander,” Guntram protested feebly.

“That means the temperature is zero or just below zero, angel,” explained Constantin. “What he's wearing is enough and does not need the cover on top. Remove the blanket now and once we have to walk in the city to the civil registry, you can cover him again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” he said tiredly and Guntram looked at him but decided to obey and removed the cover to avoid future troubles. His son continued to sleep undisturbed. “That's much better. If he were cold, he would cry.”

Constantin returned his attention to the road and the driver started the engine as another similar van overtook them. 'He already adores the baby, but for some reason he's terrified of the cold weather. It's not as bad as he thinks. Conor is a very nice fellow, indeed. Kind of grows in you.'

“Alexander, I can't sign with Cyrillic characters,” Guntram realised and started to panic. “How am I going to make his papers. They will realise that I'm not Russian!”

“No, you are from Uruguay and have a working visa. I'm your employer, angel. Let me do the speaking and write your name in any place the officers tell you. Conor is not a Russian citizen, but from Uruguay. We have to register his birth now and later obtain his papers at the consulate in St. Petersburg. He will obtain a visa too and that's a very difficult foe in Russia.”

“Why is he not Russian?”

“He has no Russian blood at all. The mother was a donor, a number if you want to know. Nothing else.”

“Is this legal?”

“Yes, it is. Conor is entirely yours. You will appear as the sole parent.”

They drove in silence the rest of the trip to the city, only interrupted for a soft whimper as Conor had lost his dummy. The vans parked in front of a small and modern looking building and Guntram descended from the car, taking his son with him. He followed Constantin inside the building and an obsequious woman welcomed them and praised the baby for several long minutes as Guntram looked more and more concerned as he couldn't understand a single word from her speech.

“Follow me, Fedia. We will make the papers now,” Constantin stated simply and the woman led them to a small office where she had several forms ready and asked several questions to Constantin, writing the papers down and copying the answers in her computer. Guntram saw how the man showed his fake passport to the woman and she took it with an ample smile. He was asked to sign on several pages and she extended him an “international birth certificate” written in several languages stating that Conor Tarasov was his son, born on October 9^th, 2010, leaving blank the space reserved for “mother”.

Guntram smiled and thanked her, but the woman ignored him once more, focusing all her attention on Constantin, who only touched briefly his elbow to indicate him to leave the room.

Once he was outside the small office, he saw one of the men from Paraguay, Dimitri or Dima as all the men knew him, approach him and crack a smile.

“Do you have the papers?” he asked.

“I guess so,” Guntram answered shyly.

“It's a beautiful child,” the big Russian said after he took a careful look at the baby. “She must be getting a lot for this,” he added with a smirk, moving his head toward the closed room.

“What?”

“Compensation for writing papers quickly. Don't worry. Once you have this, the rest is easy to get. How are you going to call him?”

“Conor.”

“Sounds good. Boss told me to drive you to the shopping centre and let you choose what you'd like for his room. Unlimited funds. Don't give me trouble and don't overdo it, all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” Guntram mumbled, caressing his child's head, only concerned about him.

“Cheer up. It's a really nice kid what you have there. Newborns are ugly as toads but for some reason people say they're cute. He looks very much like you,” Dima commented with a shrug. “Sit over there. You look tired and this may take a while,” he added casually, pointing toward a plastic set of blue chairs placed against the wall.

For a long time, Guntram waited for Constantin, consumed by his nerves. The Russian finally left the room bearing a very pleased expression. “I'm afraid I'm running late for a meeting at the company. You should stay with Dima and he will help you to get what you need. I will see you again at five and we will drive home together,” he said. “Don't worry, everything is fine.”

“Did you...?”

“I did what was necessary. It's the Russian way of dealing with difficult things and I don't expect you to understand it, angel. Conor is a hundred percent yours and no one can legally take him away.”

* * *

At the end of the afternoon, Guntram was very tired but happy for the few hours of “surveyed” freedom he had enjoyed with his son. Much to his surprise the large Russian, had a baby-pram in the car and Guntram could place Konrad inside it, noticing that it was from a very well known brand, the same he had used when his first children were born.

The big shopping mall where Dima took him had five baby stores, all of them catering very expensive and exclusive brands. All of the saleswomen spoke perfect English and were helpful to him, taking the shopping list made by the nanny to fulfil it immediately. Guntram was surprised that they immediately produced good clothes for the baby and understood what he wanted in the blink of an eye.

“I had no idea this existed in Siberia,” he whispered to the man.

“We buried Communism in 1991, Fedia. This city has a lot of money with the oil industry around. People have to spend it somewhere. Wait till you see the toy store or the baby furniture shop. I saw a crib with solid gold decorations,” he said with a smirk.

“You're pulling my legs!” Guntram protested.

“Unfortunately not. Keep the whole show down, will you? These capitalist displays of wealth are too much for my taste.”

“Do you know if they have something in good wood like cherry tree or nut? I don't want anything fancy,” Guntram said.

“Woods are a Russian speciality. I'm glad you're not asking for anything crazy,” he answered with a real smile. 'Well, maybe the boy is not problematic at all, just as Massaiev told us he would be. He certainly looks better since he has the child.'

Guntram finally chose a simple design in dark cherry wood for a large crib, changer and two cabinets than only had some discreet traditional Russian carvings over them.

“It's not what I was expecting,” the man evaluated.

“Why not? You told me it was good wood and not chemically treated,” Guntram said nervously. “Is it too expensive?”

“What? No! I was thinking you would want the Mickey Mouse or something like this.”

“No, nothing from Disney. It ruins the children's aesthetic taste. I will draw some illustrations that can be later framed,” Guntram answered mechanically, feeling a pang of sadness at the memory of Konrad's first instructions for the boys' nursery. “He is still too young to like them.”

“As you like. Your stuff is nicer than any poster you can buy.”

“Thank you,” Guntram said shyly and returned his attention to choose the bed linens and towels. “Frog or bear?”

Taking the boy to have lunch was almost a challenge to Dima's nerves as he had forgotten about eating and wanted to walk his son in the shopping centre. Growling like a bear, the Russian reminded him that it was his own feeding time and that if he wanted to be friends, that was the first thing he should learn; respect lunchtime. Guntram opened wide his eyes and nodded, following him meekly to the restaurants area.

As usual, Guntram ordered a salad but forgot to finish it when his son wanted his bottle and he busied himself, feeding him and then walking him to the window to show him the city. Dima, sighed and only said nonchalantly, “hey boy, if you get sick, who's going to look after your baby?” freezing Guntram's heart with his words.

* * *

“Did you have a good time, my angel?” Constantin asked as he picked up the just awoken baby from the pram to kiss and hug him. “How did he behave in his first day out?” he asked casually as he sat in the small café where Dima had taken Guntram after shopping.

“Conor is very nice. He gave me no troubles at all,” Guntram answered meekly, with all his internal alarms soaring when Constantin took the baby with one hand. 'Calm yourself down. He should never be jealous of the baby,' he told himself and bit his lips before he would shout 'hold the head!'

But Constantin had much more experience with children than the young man had ever imagined as he held the baby very professionally, keeping the head well aligned with the back and easily holding him with one arm. “Don't be so nervous. I had four before children and all of them survived me,” he whispered in French with a ironic smile.

“I'm sorry, Alexander. I didn't think.”

“It's logical. It's your cub what' I'm holding,” he answered with a real smile. “This is part of our primaeval brain. Don't worry.”

“Maybe I react too much.”

“Perhaps, but that's good. If you don't look after your child, who's going to do it?” Constantin said and his free fingers played in front of the baby's face, making him try to focus his gaze upon them. “They see no farther than 20 centimetres long when they are born and mostly focus on faces.”

“I didn't know that.”

“I understand they can't see colours till they are three months old and they start by red. The eyes are not mature enough, but that's the price we pay for walking upright.”

“I beg you pardon?”

“Evolution, dear. We walk upright and get more apples from the trees but our cubs are born tree months before their time. The women's pelvic bones changed so we could stand and pregnancy reduced its duration compared to other mammals. This is why babies are so frail at the beginning. They are simply not ready to be out of the womb. Walking is only a few thousand years compared to the millions it took to create us.”

“I was not aware of that.”

“Yet we can't stay in for more than 42 weeks without killing the mother.”

“I was born premature,” Guntram said very slowly. “Maybe that's why I was always among the dwarfs of the class.”

“It has nothing to do with that. It's genetic.” Constantin said nonchalantly, all his attention focused on the baby looking at him. “When did he have his last bottle?”

“Three hours ago.”

“You should give him another soon. Before we drive home.”

“He didn't ask for one.”

“At this age, they eat every three hours and you have to be ready before they start to yell. They can't understand you, so the only way they can know that you love them is if they have their basic needs fulfilled before they have to use their limited energies to get what they need. A contended baby is a happy and less problematic child, angel. Look, he's starting to stir in my arms, wondering what's wrong with him. Five to ten minutes before he explodes,” Constantin said with a smile, looking at the child with real tenderness as Guntram studied him carefully.

“Fedia, you should seriously consider to start to prepare a bottle,” he repeated as he placed the infant close to his chest and Konrad opened his eyes bigger, clearly awaken. Without saying a word, and still not believing that Constantin could be right, Guntram opened the bag where were all the baby supplies and mixed the milk dose with the warm water in a flask, checking if it was at the right temperature.

Constantin took the bottle from the boy's hands and approached the teat to the child's nose and he dropped the dummy to strongly begin to suck it. “He was really hungry,” Guntram exclaimed puzzled. “I didn't realise it,” he added feeling very guilty.

“Babies have a very good sense of smell,” he commented, looking with a smile how the child drank his milk with enthusiasm. “He will not make a fuss with the food. Good for him.”

“May I have him back?” Guntram asked shyly once Konrad was finished and rested his head against Constantin's shoulder 'If he throws up on him, we are dead.'

“No, let him as he is,” Constantin answered after he quickly checked what Konrad was doing, slightly moving the head and looking around. “Don't worry. It will not be the first time a baby loses milk on top of me. I'm used to it and I can change a diaper, without fainting in the process even. This gentleman is very active for his age,” he commented with a proud smile. “Did you get a big crawling carpet for him? We will need one sooner than we think.”