He gave a low chuckle. “Cici’s not the kind of girl you work with. She’s the kind of girl you work for. But for the record, she did help rescue my sister.”
“That’s all I care about. Tell Liliana I came by to see her.”
The elevator doors rattled shut.
Mama exploded the moment I walked through the door. She stalked around me in a rattling fit, alternating between fury, fear, and relief.
“You selfish boy! Do you know what you’ve done to our family? To my nerves? There’s hot water. You must bathe. It will ease the pain. Do you think you’re indestructible? Do you only care about yourself? Where do you hurt?”
“I just want to lie down.”
She fluttered around me, poking and prodding. If I showered, at least I could have some privacy. I headed toward the bathroom.
“I’ll make cabbage soup,” she said. “Your father’s out looking for Cici. The radio and television say the streets are very dangerous.”
My sister was more dangerous than the streets.
“I saw Cici.”
“Where?” demanded my mother.
“At the hospital. She was visiting Luca. But she left. Don’t worry about Cici, Mama,” I told her over my shoulder. “She’ll take care of herself.”
That’s what I told my mother.
And shame on me, I believed it.
78
?APTEZECI ?I OPT
I slept in my parents’ bed. Fever sucked me in and out of mangled dreams. I was fighting at the barricade, dodging bullets, lying in a pool of green paint at Station 14, running through the corridors of Jilava, and reaching for Luca. He reached back with his remaining arm and gently touched my forehead.
My eyes fluttered. The room was dark. My father leaned over the bed, touching my forehead.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Tired.”
He nodded. “You’ve been sleeping for several hours.”
I closed my eyes, wanting to sleep for several more.
“Liliana’s here to see you. Do you feel up to it?”
“Yeah, of course.” I summoned some nonexistent energy and boosted myself up in bed.
A few moments after my father exited, the door opened, and the shadow of Liliana appeared. She moved toward me and sat on the edge of the bed. She set her hand upon mine.
“Bun?.”
“Bun?.”
I wanted to see her face, sweep her hair from her eyes, and tell her she was safe. I reached beside me and turned on the lamp.
We stared at each other, mouths open.
“Cristian,” she gasped, looking at me. She gently touched the wreckage of my body and the ruin of my face.
I said nothing. I couldn’t. Liliana’s face was badly bruised and swollen. Her necklace was gone and in its place was a slicing red rope burn circling her neck. “Are you all right?” I asked.
She reached up and slowly pulled the winter hat from her head. Her beautiful, mysterious brown hair—it was hacked off, uneven, and partially shaved. Small scabs patched her scalp.
“Oh my god, Lili. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I was lucky. But the brother and sister. They’re still there.” Her eyes welled.
“This will all be over soon,” I said, not knowing if it was true. We sat in silence, hands clasped.
“You liked my bangs,” she whispered.
“I like your eyes,” I told her. “And now I can finally see them. Your hair, it kinda looks like mine now.”
She laughed and placed a hand on my chest. “You’re still wearing my scarf.”
“It smells like you.”
Liliana smiled. She moved her hand to my face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
I was a mess.
It was all a mess.
“Luca,” I said.
“I heard.”
She held up a hand, clean, but shadowed in green paint. “Cristian, how could anyone understand this?” she whispered. A tear fell onto her cheek. “Will they believe us?”
I shrugged, then shook my head.
They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. But we were there, together. We understood. And Liliana, she understood me. And she knew it. She leaned in to make the point and kissed me. I scooted over on the bed, making room. I wrapped my arms around her and we lay there, sharing the pillow.
An hour passed.
Her breathing slowed to sleep.
Gunfire sounded in the distance.
“I love you,” I whispered.
79
?APTEZECI ?I NOU?
December 24th.
Two days passed and the revolution continued.
Liliana and I sat on Bunu’s couch in the kitchen. We alternated listening to reports from Radio Free Europe and watching the newly formed station, Free Romania Television. My father began to speak. He asked us about our experience. He asked us how we felt. He asked if there was anything he could do for us. He said more in two days than he had said in two years. Poor Mama fell silent, frightened, muttering into her ashtray.