30/8/91                   

Gorbachev’s First Day Back at the Office

“Hello, Miss Lexia?”
    “Mr. Gorbachev! You’re back!”
    “Yes, Miss Lexia. I came into the office early. To catch up a little, y’know, after my vacation.
So, did my favorite secretary miss me a little?”
    “You’re back! You’re back!”
    “I’m only a couple of hours early, nothing to get excited about. I thought I’d beat the crowds
today, and get cracking while the Kremlin is empty. I even got a parking space, right out front!”
    “It was terrible, Mr. Gorbachev, I tried to call you, but –“
    “Yes, I know, there’s no phone out there in the vacation dacha. I don’t like to be bothered with nagging little problems when I’m on vacation. The world can do without me for a few days.”
    “But ... but ... sir, the army, the KGB, Mr. Yanayev ...”
    “So, they can’t run things without me? Well, enough chitchat, Miss Lexia, can you come in quickly?”
    “But sir! You mean you haven’t heard?!”
    “You can tell me all about it when you arrive. And bring me a cup of coffee, would you?”
    Gorbachev settled into his plush red leather chair and drummed his fingers on the big mahogany desk. So much to do, Where to begin? I wonder, the Soviet president mused, what Bush does first when he gets to the office.
    Gorbachev opened the top drawer and rummaged around a bit. His brow furrowed. Dammit,
my pencil. Where’s my pencil? It’s supposed to be right there. A dark thought came to his mind:
somebody has been sitting in my chair...
    Without a pencil or a secretary, what’s a world leader to do? Gorbachev resumed drumming His fingers on the desk. Lithuania, he said aloud. Those people were becoming a pain in the butt.
    Suddenly he remembered the gas bill hadn’t been paid. Raisa had mentioned this more than once  during the vacation. “Don’t forget to pay the gas bill,” she had warned. Raisa. A smile crossed his lips, his eyes twinkled. Raisa. She consented to go fishing with him on the third day of the vacation.
She caught a little minnow, and was she proud! I must remember to tell George and Barbara. And I’ll have to ask what they’re wearing to the Middle East peace conference. I’ll wear blue if George doesn’t wear brown.

WELL, WHERE’S Miss Lexia?
    It occurred to him that there really wasn’t very much to do, and he needn’t have bothered coming in early. Boy, I sure chose a quiet few days to get away.
    The door opened and Miss Lexia blew in. She looked flushed and anxious, and this annoyed him. But she was wearing the floral print blouse he so liked, so he silently forgave her lack of composure.
    “Right,” Gorbachev said, rolling up his sleeves. “First things first. Where’s my pencil?”
    “Mr. Yanayev...”
    “He took my pencil? But he’s got one of his own. I wondered why he’s been loitering around my office so much recently.”
    Miss Lexia looked at her boss in thunderstruck amazement. In Ouagadougou, in Chibougamau, In Kalamazoo, everyone in the world knows... One man on earth doesn’t know, and Miss Lexia was looking at him. If nobody ever told him, would he ever find out?
    She took a deep breath and steadied herself. “Your pencil. I’ll call in the police, we’ll have it found by mid-morning. Until then, you can use mine.”
    “Thank you,” Gorbachev said thickly, suspecting a little condescension in her gesture. “First things first. America. I’ve been a little out of touch – ‘gone fishing,’ as they say. Have we heard from Bush?”
    “Oh, yes sir! He tried calling you. Didn’t know you were incommunicado. So he called Yeltsin instead.”
    “Yeltsin!” Gorbachev seethed. “That wombat’s ass! He thinks he can push me out of this job by sharing a few pleasantries with George. Hah! He’d better get off his high horse, and learn the world of politics before he takes me on!”
    “But really, sir, I think he supports you.”
    The Soviet president smirked. “I have a sixth sense for intrigues. Yeltsin would lead the first Tank to my overthrow. I bet he stole my pencil.”
    “Uh, sir?”
    “Yes, Miss Lexia?”
    “You were overthrown. On Monday.”
    Gorbachev smiled. He liked when she teased him. “So today’s Wednesday. Unless I came to Work in Bolivia by mistake, I would think the paperwork alone of a proper Soviet putsch should take a week.”
    “Not when the bureaucracy is in on the plot. Mr. President, you don’t seem to understand: when you were out fishing with Raisa, you weren’t the president anymore, you were a Crimean fisherman.”
    “A fisherman doesn’t sit at a mahogany desk.”
    “Yeah, but a president should have a pencil, no?”
    “This coup of yours. Did anyone notice? I mean, one minute I’m in charge, and the next minute I’m in charge all over again, almost as if – as if I was on vacation!”
    “CNN was there.”
    Gorbachev swallowed hard. His eyes bulged. “They were?”
    “You were front-page news all over the world,” beamed the secretary. “Here, I saved the clippings.”
    “Enough shenanigans, Miss Lexia, we have work to do! I have to get in touch with the West.
And the East. And the South Pole – in case you think I don’t know what’s going on, I did hear about The rescue of our scientists in Antarctica. Don’t you think I’d know if there was a revolution going on outside my office window?”
    “But you were gone fishing –“
    “Miss Lexia! It’s so utterly absurd! Imagine, a Communist takeover, of all places here in Moscow!”