She paused, awkward and averting her eyes, then nodded and returned to my shoulder, crying.
I didn’t know what to say or how to make it better, so I just let her cry—as she probably did during the examination with the “baby police.” Women were periodically checked for pregnancy at their place of work. The makeshift gynecological exams by medical inspectors were disgusting and humiliating, not to mention unsanitary.
Ceau?escu wanted to increase the population, to breed more workers. Population growth meant economic growth. If you were childless, you were taxed.
Everyone knew Ceau?escu’s decrees:
The fetus is the property of the entire society!
Heroic women give children to the homeland!
Anyone who avoids having children is a deserter!
Mama had only managed to have two children. She felt guilty about it.
“Fertility under state control? That’s an abuse of human rights!” Bunu would wail. “How can families take care of multiple children with no electricity and so little food? Cristian, there is no happy ending here.”
Bunu was right. Some infants were put in orphanages where families were assured they’d be cared for and raised properly as good comrades. Would they? Were conditions in the orphanages better than the cement apartment blocks? I pondered those questions in my secret notebook.
“Oh, Pui.” Cici drew a breath, gathering strength. She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
What could I say to my sister? What could I say to my own mother who had to suffer the same indignity? Their bodies were owned by the State. I couldn’t promise that things would get better. In the last few years, they had gotten worse. I couldn’t intervene or help. But I wanted to take the pain away. So I leaned in to her ear.
“Hey, have you heard? Bul? says Romania is repairing the country’s tanks—both of them.”
Cici looked at me with her gray-blue eyes. She paused, as if suspended. And then she laughed, the laugh I loved, and swatted my shoulder.
Slowly, her smile faded. She pulled a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll never change. Promise, Pui. We have to stay close.”
She stared at me with such a desperate, imploring look. My stomach cramped with guilt. If Cici knew that I had become an informer?
She’d hate me.
She’d never speak to me again.
But what choice did I have?
I swallowed. I think I managed a small smile.
“Of course,” I whispered. “I promise.”
Deceit. Treachery. Hypocrisy.
I lied to my sister. The person I loved most.
But at the time, I didn’t blame myself for any of it.
I blamed Him.
11
UNSPREZECE
8:50 p.m.
I waited in the stairwell. Early. Anxious. Maybe a little nervous.
My sister could tell I was energized about something but didn’t pry.
“There’s no hot water. The shower will be freezing. Do you want me to boil some water?” she had asked.
“No, save it for Bunu.”
I showered under the freezing tap. At least the water was running. It could be switched off at any time. I reshuffled and forked my hair using my fingers. No comb necessary.
“Luca called,” said my sister.
I nodded but said nothing. I had been dodging Luca. And he knew it.
Cici brushed her hands across my shoulders and sent me off with a whisper.
“Be careful. Don’t say too much around Starfish. You can’t trust him.”
While standing in the stairwell I spied the Securitate agent who lived in our building. He tramped down the stairs wearing a long black coat, leaving behind a phantom of cigarette smoke. The black leather coat, the black Dacia. Secret agents—they weren’t very secret.
I waded into the blackened street, mining the darkness for Liliana. My hair was still wet, but I was accustomed to the cold. I hoped it wasn’t obvious, showering and all. I also hoped she hadn’t changed her mind.
She hadn’t. She stood in front of her apartment block, waiting for me. The night clouds suddenly shifted, dropping a pale glow of moonlight.
“Bun?,” I said.
“Bun?.”
Feti?a, her building’s block dog, sat next to her.
“Someone fed her?”
“Apparently. Otherwise she’d be eating my shoe. She’s a good amulet. Most people are scared of her.”
“I’m not scared of her.”
“Yeah, because your building’s dog is a wolf!” She laughed.
“He’s not a wolf.”
“Turbatu? Well, his name’s pretty intimidating.”