Alynwa's Mind: It's Crazy in There

Illya awoke from a nap on the living room couch to the sounds of Napoleon and Leona Nicole chattering happily on the terrace and the scent of hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.  He continued to lie there for a few minutes more so he could listen to Napoleon attempting to explain the 4^th of July to a three year old.

“Today is America’s birthday, so we celebrate by cooking outside.  Hot dogs are traditional July 4^th food.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re easy to cook on the grill; just like hamburgers.”

The little girl was quiet for a minute and then she asked, “We would be outside in the rain, too?”

Napoleon laughed, “No, we would stay inside, but we would still eat hot dogs.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Americans eat on the 4^th.  And later on tonight, Papa and I will let you stay up late to watch the fireworks.”

“What are fireworks, Daddy?”

“Fireworks are, ah, well…Fireworks are lights in the sky that are a bunch of pretty colors that make different shapes and a lot of noise.”

“Is it scary?”

“No, it’s exciting.”

Illya came off the couch and walked out onto the terrace.  When Napoleon bought the penthouse next door, part of the renovations had been to remove the wall that separated the two terraces to create one large terrace that wrapped around the entire apartment.  He sat down at the table and held his arms open so that Leona ran to him for a hug.  “I could hear some of your conversation.  We will be able to see the fireworks from right here.  There will be fireworks over the East River.  Is the food ready now?  I am very hungry.”

Napoleon smiled broadly and handed Illya a plate with a burger on it.  There were condiments and side dishes already on the table.  He leaned down to whisper in his daughter’s ear, “Your Papa’s always hungry; never forget that.”

Leona giggled and snuggled closer to her Papa.  He kept one arm around her while using his other hand to eat.  “Papa, did you know it’s our birthday?”

Putting his burger down to wipe his mouth, he answered, “If you mean it is the 4^th of July, yes, I do know.  I am Russian so it is not my country’s birthday, but it is Daddy’s so that is why there are hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.”

That caused Leona to frown as she thought about what she had been told.  Meanwhile, Napoleon put a plate with a hot dog cut in half lengthwise and then across into manageable pieces for her and then put relish and catsup on it for her.  Illya turned her around so she faced the table.  “Daddy, Papa can’t have birthday cake?”

Illya perked up.  “There is cake?”

“Not birthday cake; we have cupcakes with red, white and blue icing,” Napoleon replied, “and Papa can eat cake if he wants.”

“Good, Daddy!  Can I eat one now?”

“What, Sweetie?”

“May I have a cupcake now, Daddy?”

“After you eat your hot dog and some veggies.  I grilled those, too.  When you’ve finished eating, it will be time for your nap so that you can be awake for the fireworks.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Nine twenty that evening found the two men and their daughter sitting on their terrace overlooking the East River.  Napoleon had put his radio in one of the windows facing the terrace so that they could listen to the patriotic songs that play during the display.  As the fireworks began, Leona watched in awe.  She “oohed and ahhed,” she clapped her hands together in delight, she jumped when a boom was especially loud and finally, she put her hands over her ears as the fireworks reach a crescendo and ended with a cacophony of sound that echoed along the skyscrapers.  When it was over, Napoleon carried her inside followed by the Russian.

“Say goodnight to Papa.  It is way past your bedtime,” Napoleon said as he leaned her toward Illya.

She kissed his cheek and said, “Goodnight, Papa.  Love you.”

“Спокойной ночи дочь. Я тоже тебя люблю. (Goodnight, Daughter.  I love you, too.)”

Illya watched his partner carry their child to her room.  He decided to have a drink before retiring so he went into the kitchen, removed his bottle from the freezer and pulled two glasses from the cupboard.  He put ice in one for Napoleon and went into the living room.  Less than five minutes later, Napoleon came in and settled onto the couch after getting his single malt scotch out of the liquor cabinet.

“I swear she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.  I thought she might be jumpy after all that noise.”

Illya nodded as he took a swallow from his glass.  “An example I intend to follow as soon as I finish my drink.”

“As do I, Tovarisch.  Today was a good day.”

Illya finished his drink, stood and stretched.  “Yes, it was.  Happy Birthday, Amerikanski.”

Four – year – old Leona Nicole Hyun Reilly awoke from her Saturday afternoon nap feeling happy and refreshed.  She squeezed her teddy bear, Rollo, and smiled as she looked around her penthouse bedroom.  Papa and Daddy had surprised her two nights ago when they had come to Uncle Lamont’s and Aunt Rosie’s house to collect her to bring her home with them.  They had told her that they would all be together for a month.

“Napoleon, what are all these little pieces of paper strewn about your desk?” Illya had come to his partner’s apartment after work to watch a baseball game. Though he refused to purchase such a “symbol of Western decadence,” as he once haughtilly described it, for his apartment, he had no qualms about watching TV at Napoleon’s place. On his way to the living room, he had noticed the mass of paper on the desk as he passed by his partner’s home office.

“Don’t touch it! you’ll mess up my system!” Napoleon came up behind him quickly. “I’ve been working on my taxes every night for the last four nights.” He reached around the blond and pulled the door shut. “Please stay out of there; I can’t afford for anything to get lost.” He continued walking to the living room with Illya following, brows knit in confusion.

“Napoleon, why are you doing your taxes? Why have you not given your paperwork to Accounting? Today is April tenth!”

Being a field agent for UNCLE was, by necessity, a schizophrenic life. Every Section II agent had an alter – ego who only existed on paper; in Napoleon’s case, it was Navarre Solange while Illya Kuryakin’s was Edward (Eddie) Case. All of their financial records; paychecks, bank accounts, utility bills, leases and tax returns, were in those names. To cut down on confusion and to free up an agent’s time for more important matters, the Accounting Department for UNCLE North America was charged with making sure monthly bills were paid and income taxes filed for each agent in addition to acting as liaison between the IRS and the UNCLE operatives. It simply would not do for an UNCLE agent’s “second self” to be audited.

“I know what the date is, Partner Mine; my income statements are already there. What’s on my desk are all the incidental costs that I want deducted as work – related expenses. The lovely Miss Melania is waiting for me to give her the back – up documentation so she can finish.” He walked over to the TV set and turned it on while Illya sat in the recliner and crossed his arms.

“The ‘lovely Miss Melania’ can not wait forever; she is under orders to file your return on time. When do you intend to hand that to her? April fourteenth?”

Napoleon toed off his shoes and stretched out on his couch. “Day after tomorrow, the latest,” he replied. “I just have to go through a few more coat pockets to find receipts and I’m finished. Mel promised me she’ll wait until I bring everything.”

Illya snorted, “And, what did you promise her?”

“Dinner at Terrace on the Green and dancing at the Rainbow Room.”

“It is much less expensive to just hand in everything in a timely manner. My taxes have been filed for weeks.”

Napoleon waggled his head and sniffed, “Well, la de dah! Good for you.”

“Da, it is. Now, please be quiet; the game is starting and I want to pay attention so I can understand.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Illya was sitting at his desk going through his mail.  Why does it seem that the moment Napoleon and I are away on a mission, everyone in UNCLE suddenly decides to contact me about something?  The next envelope he picked up contained a smaller, cream colored envelope with his name printed in calligraphic writing with no return address.  This is different, he thought.

“Napoleon,” he said after he opened it, “Melody Beauchamp is getting married.  She has sent me an invitation to the wedding.”

“Illya, what are you doing a week from tomorrow?”

The Russian looked up from his second helping of lunch.  “I imagine I will be doing whatever it is Mr. Waverly wants me to do, as you will be.  Why do you ask?”

“If we are in town next Tuesday, let’s have dinner together.  In fact, come by my place for dinner; I’ll cook us a fine Italian meal and serve it with wine.”

Illya eyed his partner suspiciously.  “Why?”

“What do you mean why?  Can’t I have my best friend over for dinner?”

The blond smiled knowingly.  “Oh, I know why you want me to commit to dinner.  Next week is Valentine’s Day and you do not wish to ask any of your… admirers out or worse, have them approach you for a date.  Tell me I am wrong.”

Napoleon sipped his coffee and grimaced.  When you take coffee black, lousy coffee has nowhere to hide.  Putting the cup back down on his tray, he answered, “You’re right, Partner Mine.  I made the mistake years ago of making a date without checking the calendar to realize it was Valentine’s Day.  The woman I asked out made a huge deal of it to the other ladies in the secretarial pool.  They were hurt I had not asked them and the one I did take out became angry with me when she realized that she was not ‘special.’  The result was I didn’t have a date for six weeks!  My libido can’t stand me tainting my dating pool like that again.”

Illya grinned as he tucked into his rice pudding.  “So,” he said as he licked his spoon, “if I say yes, you can demur if one of your lady friends wants to go out with you by saying you have plans with me?”

“Exactly.  No one’s feelings should be hurt because I will be with my partner and not another woman.”

The grin on Illya’s face turned positively wicked.  “And, you are not concerned that some of these women might find it odd that you would spend what is arguably the most romantic date night of the year with another man?”

That gave Napoleon pause for a moment.  Then, he retorted, “You know what?  I don’t care.  We leave for Algiers tonight and we both know this affair requires perfect planning and timing and it will be dicey, to say the least.  We will be damn lucky to get in and out in one piece.  It’s not written in stone that Valentine’s Day is only for sex and romance.  If it were, there would not be Valentine’s Day cards you can give to your mother.”

“The day is for acknowledging who is most important in your life and, since I depend on you to back me up in the field and save my life if it needs saving, the most important person in my life, Tovarisch, is you.  So, to hell with what anyone thinks.  I bet you dollars to donuts that Mark and April will be together for Valentine’s Day, too; in fact, I suspect most of the Section II teams will be together.  So, what do you say?  Is it a ‘date?’”

Illya laughed, “When you put it that way, turning you down would be disloyal to our partnership!  Yes, I’ll be there.  Could you include cioppino in this dinner?”

“Absolutely.”

Illya closed his desk drawer and glared across the desks at his partner.

“Napoleon, what is that in your hand?”

“This?  Just a Mr. Goodbar.  Want some?”

“Where did you get it?”

“Its got peanuts in it.”

“I know.  Where did you get it?”

“Well, I wanted to finish my reports and I was getting hungry so…”

“You went into my desk and stole it.  And now, you offer to share my candy with me?”

“Sharing is caring.  If you prefer, I’ll buy you one for yourself.”

“I had one for myself!  Buy me a Baby Ruth.”

“Okay.”

Illya was speechless.  He had never seen anything like it; he had never heard of anything like it.  His American partner was sitting at a table watching him with amusement as the Russian turned slowly in a circle to take it all in.

“Napoleon, this is wonderful!  Thank you so much for bringing me here.  I think this is my favorite place in all of New York City!  What is it called again?”

“Horn and Hardant’s Food Automat.”

Illya placed coins in a slot and pulled out a sandwich. “America is amazing,” he said before taking a bite.