Connie’s ardor ebbed equivalently. Initially she’d seen Yuri as a romantic figure who’d come from a distant land to rescue her from a boring life. But soon after their marriage Yuri refused to do anything except drive his cab and drink vodka in front of the television. And then there was the violence. Connie had never been beaten before. After the first incident she would have left if she’d had someplace to go. The problem was that she’d burned her bridges when she married Yuri against her family’s wishes. Pride kept her rooted where she was.

Connie’s method of dealing with her unhappiness was to eat. She could find solace in a quart of ice cream, french fried potatoes, and a Big Mac, and she sought that solace frequently.

Between that and a routine devoid of exercise, it wasn’t long before Connie’s weight ballooned. The more Yuri drank, the more Connie ate.

As they became more entrenched in their respective bad habits, their mutual hostility grew. Yuri and Connie lived in the same house but ignored each other until mere proximity would ignite a conflagration. Invariably, the quarrels escalated from stereotypic epithets to physical violence, and when they did, Connie suffered more.

A break in this pattern occurred when Yuri befriended Curt Rogers and Steve Henderson. He did not tell Connie about his new friends but spent much of his time away from home as a result of their acquaintance. Curt and Steve never came to Brighton Beach. Yuri always traveled to Bensonhurst to see them. Connie was convinced he was having an affair, a belief that caused several knock-down, drag-out fights.

Then, all at once, Yuri began spending inordinate amounts of time in the basement. First he did construction, and the hammering and sawing drove Connie crazy. When she asked him what was going on, he told her it was none of her business. Then he started bringing in equipment, including powerful fans. Connie even caught sight of large stainless steel drums being carried in by white-trash “honky” skinhead youths. Such people terrified Connie, and she made sure they didn’t see her.

On more than one occasion, Connie demanded to know what was going on in her basement, but Yuri refused to discuss it. She began to think that Yuri was setting up a distillery to manufacture his own vodka. When she suggested this to him one evening, he responded by leaping at her and grabbing her throat.

“Yes, it’s a still,” Yuri snarled. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll kill you! I swear! And if you ever mess with it, I’ll beat you to a pulp. You stay the hell out of my basement!”

Connie had vainly tried to break Yuri’s hold on her neck by pulling his arms away, but she couldn’t. Usually when he was mad he just smacked her a few times, and that was it. But this was different. His black eyes drilled into her like he’d gone crazy.

In utter terror, Connie started to feel faint, her image of Yuri’s empurpled face began to blur, and her knees buckled. Only then did Yuri let go of her. Connie staggered to regain her balance and choked from the pressure he’d kept on her throat. With a burst of tears she ran from the room and threw herself onto her bed. From then on, Connie refrained from bringing up the issue of what was going on in the basement. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth risking her life.