I Hope He Is A Gentleman

"Morning Remy," Henry greeted me, poking his head out from behind his desk. I forced a smile and set my coffee down on my desk. I hadn't started drinking coffee until my sophomore year in college -- what a mistake that was. Though I was always prompt in arriving to the Consol Energy Center each morning, once again, Henry put me to shame. In fact, I think he was the first intern to arrive every day. Anna confronted him about it a couple days ago and he just bowed his head and argued that his dorm was close by. None of us held it against him, especially not me. Good for him for wanting to make a good impression.

"Hey, Henry," I responded and set my bag down. I glanced down at the stack of papers on my desk, knowing that Henry was the one who put them there because they were stacked meticulously and in a perfect pile. The first couple were just basic forms to fill out, another was a schedule that was clearly sent to all the interns. "Oh, one of the players came by and dropped something off for you," Henry added all of a sudden. I looked up, but Henry's eyes hadn't left his computer.

"Which one?" I asked, flipping through the pages again with one hand and taking a sip of my coffee with the other. I didn't see it.

"Malkin." I swallowed a gulp of hot coffee faster than I expected and it burned my throat on the way down. "He left it in the top left drawer."

With cautious fingers I pulled open the drawer. I didn't have that many things at my desk, unlike some of the other interns. Having only been working here for a little over a week, Miranda and Lisa completely decorated their areas with photos and small trinkets; Lisa also had a plant. Even Henry had a framed photo of his family. I finally caved in a couple of days ago and brought in a photo of my dog. I suddenly felt embarrassed that Evegni Malkin had stopped by my desk and probably assumed that I was some orphan and my only friend in the world was my dog. "Did he say anything when he came by?" I asked, reaching into the drawer and pulling out a ziplock bag with four pryaniki (or cookies for eating with tea) and a small note inside.

I didn't hate Geno, I just didn't understand where his unkind attitude towards me came from. I barely ever spoke to him, and when I did, it was cautiously and slowly -- I had to think before I spoke anything at all in Russian. I was by far one of the quietest interns, and I didn't stray far outside of my job restrictions (the rumor mill was flying that some of the other female interns were getting outside babysitting jobs for players).

"He asked if you were here already, and I told him you weren't." I nodded and thanked Henry for his help before opening the plastic bag. The biscuits looked delicious, and I couldn't help but bite into one after a final sip of my coffee. Any frustration I had with him dissolved just like bite I took. I then opened the note, which was written in elaborate Russian script on a piece of paper with the Penguins logo on it.

I sighed and set out on the task of trying to translate not just Russian, but authentic Russian handwriting. All the Russian I read in class and in my books was in print; Russian script was an entirely different animal. Still, after only a couple of minutes, I could understand the gist of what Geno wrote (translated roughly to English):

Hi Remy,

I hope your test was easy. I don't know if verbs of motion in Russian are hard, but I know they're different than they are in English. I'm sure you did well, though. I brought you a snack, apparently the interns don't eat breakfast. That's not very healthy. We have practice this morning and then a team meeting after. I'll stop by your desk later.

From,
Zhenya

I swear, my stomach dropped a couple inches. I tried to tell myself that Ben or James probably put him up to this after he snapped at me yesterday, but this was above and beyond any apology he owed me -- which he didn't even to begin with. And this certainly made up for how horribly my test went last night, a fact I tried not to think about.

"What did he leave you?" Asked Henry, looking over his computer at me.

"Oh, uh, just some Russian snacks," I stuttered. "We both like them." Henry nodded, and before he could continue questioning me, I added, "I can take care of all the press junkets today, by the way." Those forms were the worst, and Henry looked clearly relieved that I took those off his shoulders.

"Thanks," he said, and I nodded. Silence ensued, but all I could focus on was the idea that Geno was going to come by my desk later on.