“Your grandfather was a wonderful man. Intelligent, energetic, with such a sense of justice. But his thoughts and ideas—they labeled him a dissident. You know that, of course.”
Dissident. A protester. An objector. Someone who disputes established policy.
“Bunu kept his thoughts within the family. He said there was no such thing as a confidant.”
“No. His thoughts were not as private as you were led to believe,” he said, exhaling a mouthful of smoke. “And now I must warn you. Your family’s hardship will extend beyond your grandfather’s death. The monitoring and meetings may continue.”
“Meetings?”
“Your grandfather had been called to Securitate headquarters several times.”
I stopped and looked at the man. No. How was I unaware of this?
“Yes. And during those interviews with the agents . . .” He looked squarely at me. “He drank a lot of coffee. Don’t make the same mistake. Do you understand?”
I didn’t understand.
Bunu had told me everything. Shared his opinions and refused to whisper. Why didn’t he tell me that he’d been summoned to Secu headquarters? And if the Securitate had pegged Bunu as a dissident, why would they recruit me as an informer?
“The coffee,” whispered the gentleman, so low I could barely hear. “I suspect it contained radioactive poison.”
I turned to him on the sidewalk, my mind racing.
They poisoned Bunu. The poison caused symptoms that mirrored leukemia. It was a quiet way to get rid of someone. Mama wasn’t angry at Bunu for being ill, but for being a dissident.
“You’re telling me they poisoned him. Eventually it would have killed him. So why did they have to beat him?” I asked the man standing in front of me.
“To stall progress, set an example, make a statement. Don’t you see? If they’ll do that to an elderly man, what will they do to hopeful young students who want to ride the tide of revolution?”
What would they do to a young student? The possibility didn’t scare me.
I was more inspired than ever.
And now? I had nothing to lose.
47
PATRUZECI ?I ?APTE
Alex Pavel arrived at the apartment carrying two chrysanthemums. The funeral ritual of an even number of flowers puzzled me. In flower shops, they only sold bouquets with odd numbers, saying even numbers were reserved for funerals. But wouldn’t an odd number be more appropriate for a funeral? To signify that one is “missing?”
Luca and his mother brought coliva, spiced pudding made of boiled wheat that’s molded into the shape of a cake. Theirs was decorated with a cross.
Alex stepped toward Cici with the flowers. When he moved, I saw her.
Liliana.
Standing in my apartment, hair hiding her eyes.
Instead of being happy to see her, I was angry. My reaction made no sense. At that point, nothing made sense. I looked away, suddenly nervous. Why was she here? She couldn’t stand the sight of me but wanted to be seen as polite? Was that it? Or did her mother force her to come and cling to a wall?
But she didn’t cling to a wall. She greeted my parents and Cici. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her coming my way.
I felt her slide in near me. The painful house fire raged within. I took a breath and turned to her. “Why are you here?” I whispered.
She looked at me and lifted a shoulder. “I . . . don’t know,” she whispered. “But I wanted to come.”
Her reply was so genuine—and genuinely confusing. I didn’t know how to respond.
We stood together, looking at Bunu. I didn’t want her there, but suddenly I didn’t want her to leave. Did she notice his gloved hands? Generally, coins are placed in the hands of the deceased so they can pay tolls along the way. Cici was so distressed by the look of Bunu’s hands that she made pale, thin gloves for him to wear.
“I’m so sorry, Cristian,” whispered Liliana. She stepped in close. So close that our arms were touching. So close that it was distracting.
She was sorry. Did that mean she was sorry for Bunu? Or sorry that she accused me of informing on her? Or sorry that we were no longer together?
I nodded but said nothing.
Liliana was so close to me in that crowded room. I took a breath, trying to manage the sensation of heat flooding throughout my body. I swallowed and stood, desperately hoping she’d reach for my hand. If she reached for my hand, I’d wrap my arms around her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her.
“Lili, let’s go,” said Alex. He wedged in beside us.