When Vassily and Yasha landed at Domodedovo, they found Daniil waiting in short-term parking lot A. Yasha hadn’t seen his uncle in ten years and was pleased to discover he hadn’t much aged, only widened, the way a tree grows. Daniil drove them through the suburbs of Vidnoye, Tsaritsyno, Danilovskiy—his namesake—and the Tagansky District, and finally entered central Moscow, where the first Gregoriov Bakery maintained moderate business on Arbat Street. The bakery’s cashier welcomed the family with warm blini. Exhausted from travel, Vassily ate a pancake and walked around the corner to Daniil’s house, where he took a nap. In the evening, the men played cards and taught Yasha how to swallow vodka without clenching his throat. Vassily refused to drink and told Daniil about the defibrillator they’d soon insert. Yasha told Daniil how much stronger Papa would soon be. Daniil said the surgery was overdue. After Vassily won his third consecutive round, they cleared the tables and slept well.
