60
?AIZECI
I arrived. Not in Timi?oara. At Luca’s. I knocked on the door.
Luca took one look and pulled me in. “You okay?” he asked.
I shrugged.
“My parents are at work. It’s just me and my sisters,” he said.
Luca had four younger sisters. “Hello, Cristian!” They shrieked and giggled when I walked in.
“Your hair,” laughed Dana, the oldest. “Do you use a comb?”
“Nah, I use a hatchet,” I told her.
“Are you shy? My sister says you’re shy,” chimed another.
“She didn’t say he’s shy—she said he’s cute!” said the youngest. The girls erupted with swats and laughter.
“Is it worth the stupid medal?” whispered Luca.
With five kids, Luca’s mom had received a maternity medal from the State. But five wasn’t enough. Ceau?escu wanted women to birth ten kids. If they did, they received the title of Heroine Mother.
“Want to head outside?” he asked.
I shook my head. I motioned as if I was writing.
He nodded. “We’ll be doing homework,” said Luca to the girls.
“Liar,” sneered Dana. “It’s winter break.”
The electricity was on. Luca’s family didn’t have a sofa in their kitchen. They had three narrow wooden chairs and a small table with a red-and-black embroidered tablecloth. Luca pulled a pad and pen from a drawer. He set it down in front of me at the table. He turned on the radio, and then the faucet. Noise decoys.
We sat, saying nothing, me staring at the pad of paper. Could I do this? Should I do this?
I picked up the pen, hesitating. Then I began to write.
First, everything I thought I knew—it’s all a lie.
Secu came to school. They knew about the dollar in my stamp album.
You were the only one I had told. I was mad. I thought you informed on me.
I pushed the pad toward him.
He read my writing, eyes expanding. He shook his head.
“No,” he whispered.
“I know that now,” I told him. I grabbed the pad and took a breath. I wrote the word.
Cici.
“No way,” said Luca. He grabbed the pad. I watched him write.
You’re paranoid. Everything that’s happening, it’s making us all crazy.
“Bunu knew. He tried to tell me,” I whispered.
Luca sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised.
I nodded.
My friend shook his head slowly. “There’s gotta be an explanation.”
Luca. Kind, patient Luca. I wrote the words and passed the pad to him.
I’m sorry.
He stared at the pad. He gave me a small nod and took the pen.
I knew something was wrong.
Liliana’s brother. Could it be Alex, not Cici? I’ve seen them together.
I shook my head. I didn’t think so.
We sat, serenaded by State propaganda warbling from the radio.
How can I help? wrote Luca.
I took the pad. Maybe forgive me for being an ass.
“You’re always an ass.” He pulled the pad toward him.
The suffering here—it’s beyond physical. It’s mental stuff. They’re messing with you. They do it to a lot of people.
I shrugged.
Luca tore the page from the pad. He turned on the gas burner, lit the paper, and tossed it into an empty pot on the stove. “Stand up,” said Luca. “I can’t punch a guy who’s sitting down.”
He was going to punch me? I couldn’t blame him. I stood up. He raised his fists then quickly wrenched his arm around my neck and rubbed his knuckles through my hair. We laughed and wrestled around the kitchen, like we did when we were young.
I had told Luca that I thought he was an informer.
I had told Luca that I thought Cici was an informer.
But I hadn’t told Luca that I was an informer.
But the way he said it: They’re messing with you. They do it to a lot of people. I somehow thought he knew.
I left Luca’s apartment and trudged down the stairs. When I got to the front door of the building, someone opened it.
Liliana.
We stopped and stood, staring at each other. And suddenly this crazy feeling emerged, like birds were flapping around in my chest.
“Bun?,” she said.
“Bun?.” I nodded.
We lingered, suspended in silence. She casually brushed her bangs from her eyes and I saw the outline of something drawn on her hand.
“You were wondering something,” she said.
“Oh, was I?” The birds in my chest, they flapped faster. She was so pretty.
“Yeah. I’m a Pisces.”