Dima’s Dad: Borin Dreams of Love
The four who live: Moon over Berlin, B1C12
“Arkady!” Borin boomed, opening his arms and folding his old friend into a crushing embrace. He stepped back and squinted at the smaller man, frowning. “But you’re all skin and bones! Don’t tell me Ground Forces rations are short these days.”
The general was joking. His brother-in-law had always been skinny. But those bags carved under his eyes? The deep lines etched into his face?
A broad smile cracked open to let out a snort. “Ha, Fyodor! We certainly don’t feast on caviar and cream like you lazy flyboys.”
“I’m wounded, Comrade General,” Borin said, voice dripping with mock pain. “But speaking of caviar…” He stepped aside to let his friend enter the sunny apartment. “Come in. I’ve scrounged all of Germany to spread a lunch worthy of such an esteemed guest.”
“So, bread and borscht, is it?” Arkady joked, looking around. “Nice place… Bit small, wouldn’t you say? I keep a large house outside Magdeburg. It’s convenient — some of my staff officers live in.”
“There’s a house in Potsdam I could use,” Borin said, leading Arkady to the kitchen table. “But it would mean a long, early commute for Dima. He’s at the Ministry prep school downtown. Besides, I prefer living closely with him. A big staff…
