The Mountain

A coo in Tamara's lap broke our kiss. I looked down at baby blue eyes that were full of curiosity. They moved all over my face in wonder as I searched hers. A smile I couldn't control forced my lips to curl. Milena copied mine, hers was a toothless smile and held unbridled excitement. Tamara giggled as my heart melted. I was no longer Jonathan; I was Melina's father. She and Tamara were now the most important people in the world.

I spent the next few minutes making Milena laugh. I never thought I would be one of those idiots spouting foolish gibberish to babies. Melina's smile was just too precious, and her unpracticed toothless laugh made my heart sing. Tamara was biting her lower lip to control her smile as I played with our daughter. I loved life at that moment.

Tamara eventually made me lie down on the couch. I had Milena sitting on my stomach as Tamara slowly pulled the tissue I had forgotten about, out of my nose. She was muttering something about brothers as she struggled to undo what her mother had done. I had fun flexing my stomach, making Milena bounce that in turn, caused her to smile.

Dinner was a casual affair. I had refused to answer my mother's two attempted calls. I was still angry at her and needed to stew a bit before I could forgive her. Yana served a very tasty sausage dish, laced with garlic, called Yershig. She served it with bottled water that seemed out of place. Viktoria was invited to help translate.

I spent most of the dinner trying to find out facts about Milena. Her birthday, how the birth went, and everything else I could gather with words. Milena slept fairly well and could almost make it through the night now.

I found myself slightly jealous when Tamara decided to feed Milena. Tamara was struggling to keep a straight face with Milena attached to her breast, as I failed miserably to hide my idiotic concern. It was such a beautiful thing ruined by my stupid brain.

I explained, as best I could, about my hospitalization. There were small bouts of words between Tamara and her mother as I explained. From what I could understand, Tamara was going through a litany of I-told-you-sos and Yana was admitting she had misjudged me. My parents had stirred up a hornet's nest. I explained how Ruben had given me the clue that led me to them. They all agreed that Ruben was a better friend than Armenian language teacher.

I excused myself to use the restroom. One of the few things I could ask about in Armenian without error. Tamara showed me the way, leaving Milena in the arms of her mother.

The apartment only had one bathroom. The place was utilitarian and contained little in the way of conveniences. The perfect Soviet hovel. There was a toilet, tub, and sink. The tub was full of water with a handled pot sitting on it's ledge. I looked at Tamara, who mimed lifting water from the tub with the pot and filling the toilet tank. She turned on the faucets, and they gurgled a bit, but no water came out, showing me the lack of plumbing. She mimed washing her hands and using the pot to rinse them off. Her motions were quite clear. Her words of explanation were lost on me. I wondered how they got water into the tub if the plumbing didn't work.

Tamara moved over to the corner and crossed her arms across her body and smiled. It took me a moment to realize that she intended to stay as I relieved myself. In my best Armenian, I told her to get the heck out as kindly as possible. She shook her head and laughed. I could see the moment on the mountain in her eyes when she was forced to pee in the hovel with me present. This was some kind of loving revenge. If I remembered, I had peed also in that hovel. Of course, she went first. I shrugged my shoulders and unzipped my pants. I could hear her snickering as I emptied my bladder into the toilet, keeping my back to her as best I could. I couldn't help it, as strange as it was, it made me smile. When I was done, and parts put away, Tamara was biting her bottom lip thinking herself funny. It made me laugh, which set her off as well. We needed it.

I flushed and refilled the toilet tank. I then washed my hands as Tamara dumped water over them. As I was drying them on a towel, Tamara scooted up behind me, her body molding to mine as she whispered something in my ear. I heard the word love mixed with others, her hands roaming over my chest emphasized the words. I turned in her arms, and we kissed passionately.

"I change," Tamara said, in simple Armenian I could understand, "Milena change me." She took my hand and placed it on her stomach and moved it along her hips. I could hear a little anxiety in her words. Silly fears about the changes in her body and my reaction to them. I smiled into her lips and let my hand travel to her butt. I pulled her in close and let my tongue wake up the feelings I had been waiting a year to feel.

"Beautiful," I whispered, unable to express much more in Armenian. Her smile was all the confirmation I needed. The mother of my child desired me. A part of my body was suddenly concerned about the sleeping arrangements for the night. In some ways, surviving on a mountain top is easier than normal life. In other ways, Milena existed. I greedily wanted both.

Dessert was something called Paklava. A pastry with a gut of cheese that I found very tasty. It went well with the potent coffee Yana served.

I asked Viktoria about the water and received a lesson in Armenian history. An earthquake destroyed most of the infrastructure in the late 1980s. Although electricity had been fully restored long ago, the water systems had yet to be fully rebuilt. The Kurkjian buildings had water from seven at night until three in the morning. There wasn't enough pressure to feed the whole city at the same time. Everyone bathed at seven, and then they filled the tub and some jugs for the next day. To them, it was just part of life, a minor inconvenience.

I was holding Milena, watching her sleep in my arms when a discussion erupted between Tamara and her mother. Viktoria looked away as if it wasn't happening. Tamara's brothers were trying not to laugh. I heard my name in the mix, and I could see Yana trying to make a point and Tamara putting her foot down. When it was over, Tamara looked at me.

"I go you tonight," Tamara said slowly, in Armenian. Yana looked less than pleased. I was more than pleased. Tamara had a stubborn look on her face. I knew it was for her mother, but it also dared me to say no. I smiled, the same smile I used on the mountain when we were thinking the same thing. I loved the smile I got in return. I looked down at Milena. "Both my loves are with me tonight, my beautiful one," I whispered.

Viktoria called us a cab. Tamara went downstairs to pack up a few things. She was staying with a grandmother I had yet to meet. From what I could discern, her pregnancy caused friction, and the family thought it best that she and her mother had some distance. Yana shooed the brothers away but kept Viktoria to translate.

"You leave?" Yana asked through Viktoria.

"Leave?" I pondered, "Leave for where?"

"Leave Tamara and baby. Go home," Yana clarified.

"I just found them," I said, my anger rising, "no one is taking them away now." Viktoria waved her hands, trying to erase her statement. She thought for a moment then started again.

"You stay with Tamara long time," Victoria restated. Yana was looking confused. They were asking if I had intentions of leaving Tamara. Yana didn't like Tamara staying with me. She was trying to figure out if I was in it for the long haul.

"Forever," I said. Viktoria didn't understand the word. "Long time," I restated, "til I die." Her eyes widened, and she translated, hopefully correctly, to Yana. Yana looked at me when Viktoria finished.

"Tamara my baby," Yana said. It needed no translation.

"Milena my baby," I said, raising my daughter from my lap, "Tamara my love." Yana eyes looked me over as she assessed the truth of my words. Finally, she nodded and reached into the pocket of her dress and withdrew my ring box. She pushed across the table to me.

"You marry?" Yana asked.

"If Tamara say yes," I answered in Armenian before Viktoria could translate. Yana smiled and rattled off words that left my realm of understanding.

"She say," Viktoria said with a smile, "If Tamara say no, you see her. She change Tamara mind." I laughed as I took the ring box. I had a future mother-in-law in my corner. Right then, I liked her more than my mother.

"She think maybe you not stay with Tamara," Viktoria said unprompted. They were Viktoria's words and not Yana's. She was becoming a friend. I still had some trust to earn. I gave her a smile.

"I'll never leave Tamara again," I said. Viktoria smiled back. I think she was Tamara's friend as well.

Tamara returned with Garik. Between the two of them, there were two suitcases and two gym bags. My eyes widened. Tamara smiled at my surprise.

"Me," Tamara said, indicating her one small suitcase, "Melina," she continued, pointing at the rest. I looked down at my sleeping daughter and laughed. She fit in the notch of my arm yet had more stuff than Tamara and I combined. At least Yana was laughing as well. I guess she had a little more trust in her daughter.

The trip back to the hotel went without incident, and I think I finally got the tip right. A calm smile and the tip of an imaginary hat from the cabby confirmed it. I had a crib brought up to the room, declined the fourth call from my mother, and brought Tamara to the first real room we would share together.

Tamara worked quickly, setting the crib to rights and organizing Melina's stuff while I entertained Milena on the bed. I found out that she was rather ticklish. I would run my finger lightly along the instep of her tiny feet, and she would laugh and kick at me. It was most entertaining.

Tamara sat down behind me, leaning her head over my shoulder and watched as I teased our daughter. I could feel her smile on my cheek as Milena and I played. Arms came around me, hugging me close. Shivers ran down my spine when I felt lips kissing lightly, just below my ears. It was arousing, but I could feel her desire only to convey love, not excite. Not, at least, while Milena was awake.

The mood was broken when Melina's face became distorted, and a series of wet sounds emitted from her bottom. Milena seemed relieved. Tamara laughed and stood back. I looked up at Tamara with apprehension and a small amount of hope. I saw only humor in her face as she collected a diaper from one of the gym bags. She was desperately trying not to look happy. I think I was about to experience a little revenge for missing the birth of my child.

"Jonathan," Tamara called in her lovely accent. I turned and caught the diaper that she tossed my way. The smile on her face was brutal. She expected me to change my first diaper right that moment. I smiled back as if it was going to be an easy task. Inside, I was cringing.

Undoing the old diaper was easy, opening it brought back my survival instincts. Tamara found my face hilarious. Milena began kicking her feet with excitement, making an awful runny mess worse. I was handed moist wipes and began trying to clean up the discharge while trying not to look at it. For such a tiny butt, my daughter produced a large mess. It took a lot longer than I expected to clean it all up. I rolled the dirty wipes into the foul diaper and closed it up. Tamara had a plastic bag ready for it. I powdered Melina's butt as instructed and affixed the new diaper under Tamara's watchful eye. Milena thought the whole process was exciting.

When I looked up to Tamara, emotionally exhausted, she tackled me right there on the bed. The kissing was fierce. I suspected I passed a test. Milena started cooing next to us which ended our quick bout of passion. I didn't think Tamara could be any happier. Somehow, she found my changing the diaper thrilling. I was secretly hoping my daughter would fill another as I wrapped Tamara in one arm and tickled Melina's foot with the other.

It took a long time to get Milena to sleep. She was in a playful mood, probably due to the new surroundings and an overly attentive father. Once her eyes were closed, her practiced mother was able to deposit her in the crib without her waking.

"Shhh," Tamara warned me with her finger to her lips. The smile in her eyes told me I would have trouble following the command. She shut off the main light and began unbuttoning her blouse. I stopped her with a kiss, moving her arms to her sides. I wanted so much to undress her myself.

"I have been waiting a year," I whispered in English. She needed no translation since the tone was more important than the words. "I want this to last," I added as I began to complete the unbuttoning of her blouse. She smiled and allowed me to my pleasure. I pushed the blouse over her shoulder and let it fall to the floor. My lips began tasting her newly exposed skin. It was softer than I remembered. I delighted in the shiver I sent through her body as my fingers explored.

"Shhh," I warned as a moan escaped her lips. My smile matched hers as she saw the humor in my warning. I undid that clasp on her bra and released her heavy breasts. She whispered something as I explored them, I am sure explaining their increased size and weight. I cared not for the biology, only the beauty. That they feed my daughter made them more wonderful though I took care not to use too much pressure. Light kisses and tender caresses brought more lovely sounds to my ears.

"Shhh," Tamara giggled to me. It was her making the sounds. I suppressed my laugh at the irony. I undid her pants and slowly lowered them. Above her panty line, I could see light lines of her pregnancy, the marks of motherhood in the dim light. Tamara's hand covered one as she whispered her concern. I dropped to my knees and moved her hand. My lips caressing the marks, loving what she had gone through without me, trying to erase my guilt for not being there. Her hand found my hair as I kissed every line, following them across her belly. I looked up as I lowered her panties.

"I love you," Tamara whispered, her eyes glossy with tears. Guilt flooded through me. I hadn't been there when she needed me. I wanted her to know that I would be there from now on. Nothing would drag me away again. She stepped out of her panties, and I kissed the top of her soft mound. I rose, and our lips joined as she began undressing me.

Tamara showed no further shyness when my clothes found the floor. Her hand wrapped around my obvious arousal as she whispered tempting words in my ear. I understood one in ten, but the idea was very clear. My hand found a home between her thighs. Her words lost structure as I explored. I could feel her lips curving on my neck as I softly played with her. She was as excited as I.

We fell upon the bed and Tamara pulled me between her legs. There was so much room compared to the hovel, no cold, yet the feeling was the same. There was no more impending doom forcing us into each other's arms. We simply didn't want to be anywhere else. Eye to eye, I entered her. She wrapped her legs around me and held me deep as we shared the same air. I tried to move, but she countered it by lifting her hips, and a smile emerged on her face. She whispered something about putting things together, joining. I relaxed, letting my smile merge with hers. She wanted to hold me in her, just feel me. I couldn't think of a better place to be.

"A little bit of heaven," I whispered. Tamara nodded though she didn't understand a word of my English. I played with the hair, forcing it behind her ear with caressing strokes. We lay, studying each other, sharing looks and smiles, speaking volumes without a saying a word. In time, our bodies revolted, no longer able to withstand such stillness. We moved with the grace of knowing lovers, accenting each other's movements and enhancing the pleasure we found in each other.

Tamara lost herself first, something I was worried my growing excitement wouldn't allow. Her pelvis rose, grinding into mine, The movement, and her moans set my body on fire. I joined her on a luxurious flight into the clouds. Both of our bodies stiffened, my face buried in the pillow in an attempt to not wake Melina.

We held each other as control returned to our muscles. Tamara, giggling, was kissing my shoulder. "We are damn good at that," I said in English when my breath returned. Tamara agreed, knowing my meaning if not my words. I laughed at her happy eyes, and she broke into laughter as well. It was a wonder that Milena never woke.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I awoke as Tamara was untangling herself from me. Milena was crying. Not an end-of-the-world cry. A small cry announcing she was awake. I sat up to ease Tamara's movements. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I heard Tamara soothing Milena as she picked her up. Tamara sat down on the end of the bed and began feeding our daughter. I scooted behind Tamara, kissing her shoulder and watched Milena suckle with her eyes closed. I wasn't even sure she fully woke up.

Tamara leaned into me with a sigh. I became her back support, lightly caressing her sides as her head fell back on my shoulder. We shared a brief kiss as Tamara shifted to make herself more comfortable in my arms. Both mother and child had their eyes closed. I smiled at the wonderful experience. It was a habit of love for the two, but it was new to me.

My daughter was a pig. I lightly stroked her cheek as she suckled. I could feel her muscles working hard. I wondered if it was painful for Tamara. She didn't seem to be bothered as she lay contented against my back. I felt Tamara smile when I lightly caressed her breast trying to figure out how it all worked. I kissed Tamara softly, and she closed her eyes again. The whole situation was surreal and well worth the loss of sleep.

Finally, when Milena was fully sated, her mouth lost contact with the nipple. I smiled at her contented face lost in dreamland. Tamara shivered awake when I moved. I calmed her and lifted Milena carefully in my arms. Tamara sleepily whispered something I didn't understand as I moved toward the crib, my daughter snuggled to my chest.

Milena made a gurgling sound and belched in her sleep. I have no idea what mother's milk smelled like straight out of the breast. I now knew it had a very unpleasant odor when it came back up. I held Milena away from the mess she just made on my chest. Tamara was stifling a laugh as she whispered something close to "I told you so." I laid Milena carefully in her crib and turned to a smiling Tamara who was waving me toward the bathroom. The diaper and the spit-up were happy revenge for me missing so much. I had to smile when Tamara began cleaning me up. She seemed so pleased that I took it well. Daughters were messy. They made up for it by being so damned cute.

I, again, fell asleep in Tamara's arms.

We spent the next day being tourists. Tamara was showing me the sites of Yerevan, walking where we could and driving when we had to. Milena rode on my chest in a baby sling thing that allowed her to see everything without expending any energy. Every once in awhile, I had to hand her over to Tamara. Milena needed reassurance that mom was still there.

We were at the foot of the Cascades, a beautiful art deco version of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, when I decided to risk everything. I knew what I wanted. I believed Tamara wanted it as well. There was fear all the same. I retrieved the little black ring box and placed it into Melina's hand. I pretended not to notice as she tasted it and let out a grunt when it didn't fit in her mouth. Tamara, a mother who knew her grunts, turned and quickly removed it from Melina's fingers. She was talking, mostly to herself as she examined the small box with confusion. Milena reached out to try and grab it back, but mom wasn't having it.