The woman shuts the door. She flicks the needle guard off the syringe with her thumb. She rushes forward, dropping the clipboard. Julia cries out, but the needle is through her sleeve and in her arm before she can stop the woman. She tries to twist away as the woman’s thumb gropes for the plunger. Her other hand clamps over Julia’s mouth.

The chemical wave hits her like a tsunami. Numbness, then a feeling like she can’t move.

“It’s just enough,” the woman says.

Julia falls back on the floor. She can’t move. Her hands, her feet, feel like anchors. She tries to make a sound.

The woman starts to hum as she works quickly, gathering up the sheet from the cot, twisting it tight, shaping it into a rope, smiling at her.

The woman ties one end into a noose and slips it over Julia’s head.

“It won’t hurt,” the woman says softly in her breathy accent.

56

From Iris Pollitt’s “From Russia with Love” Adoption Journal

2002

Grant is ours, and no one can take him away from us.

The judge congratulated us and signed documents and we signed the final papers that needed to be signed. Danielle looked nearly faint with relief. Pavel smiled at us, shook our hands.

“Let’s go get your boy,” Danielle said.

I nodded, feeling stunned. Kyle was silent though. I hadn’t told him I might say what I was going to say. I didn’t think he was angry with me, maybe just shocked that I had broken the main rule laid down to us when we started this journey.

“Kyle?” I said. I took his hand.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“You’re a fighter,” he said. “I don’t know that I ever knew what a fighter you were. Even when Julia got diagnosed, this was something different from that. She was ours; we were just making sure she got what she needed. This was you fighting to have him.” He swallowed.

“I didn’t know I’d go quite that far.”

“You read the room. I’m glad she was a fan.”

“We have him. Despite everything. We have him.”

We were so happy. We put our foreheads together, moved closer, kissed and hugged.

Today our driver was a woman named Tatiana, early forties, kind smile. She told us her sister worked at Volkov as a caretaker and she was always happy of a chance to visit. Pavel sat in the front with her, and the three of us sat in the back. Maria was in her own car and would meet us at the orphanage. On the drive, I thought Kyle was going to crush my hand.

We had a son.

Forget you, warning woman. Thank you, Anya. I hope you find some peace and happiness.