Home Game

by Endre Farkas

  Tommy limped over to the Garden of Remembrance. Emma-mama had called the willows in the courtyard the Family Trees and the stones beneath them the fallen leaves. He hadn’t understood then that this was the cemetery of the Jews killed by the Hungarian Fascists during the war.

  His ankle throbbing, he gingerly hobbled up to the museum on the second floor. Gabi and he had run up there eleven years ago, hoping to see knights’ armours, shields and swords, but found only silver goblets, censors and breastplates for the Torah. In a corner, in a dark room, which Tommy had hoped was a dungeon, was a drum skin made from a desecrated Torah and dresses sewn from prayer shawls. He was surprised to see them still on display along with the same photographs of dead Jews piled in a heap. This isn’t a museum, he thought to himself. This is a Wailing Wall. He remembered being sad and crying back then but not knowing why. This time he knew but didn’t cry. Instead he was angry. The exhibit hadn’t changed in eleven years. He had.

  50

  Gabi was waiting for him at the Hajdubékes station. Their embrace was fierce, as if a precious piece of their childhood had been returned. As if what began in mid-air on the Golden Green was now complete. “Welcome back,” Gabi said, as he picked up Tommy’s suitcases. He set off in a hurry to get him home. Tommy lagged behind. “Sorry.” Gabi slowed down. “I forgot. Is it still bad?”

  “It’s tender and weak. I can’t put my full weight on it yet, but it’ll be okay.”

  “That was a cheap shot. That prick should have been red carded. Our coach should have been carded too.”

  “Never mind that. How are you?” Tommy wanted to know but didn’t want to push Gabi on the subject. He didn’t know how far he could go. Archie had suggested caution. Gabi didn’t seem worried, but he could have been putting up a front.

  “The referee should be hanged by his balls. If he had any,” Gabi said.

  Gabi sounded like his dad. Dezsö-papa had always spoken his mind, even if it got him into trouble. And it often did, according to Tommy’s parents. Dezsö was always being reprimanded or demoted. He ended up drinking too much and dying too young, his father once told him. Since Gabi seemed open to talking, he decided to ask, “Are you in trouble?”

  “Some.”

  “What kind?”

  “Well, I’m off the team. And I have to attend some special classes.”

  “What kind of classes?”

  “Where they correct your thinking.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain later. Don’t say anything to my mother.”

  “Doesn’t she know?”

  “Not about the classes.”

  They walked along Market Street. In spite of the changes and the fact that he’d been only seven years old the last time he was here, the place felt familiar. Tommy stopped at the town square. He looked up at the statue. The last time he’d seen it, it was being pulled down by a mob.

  “Wasn’t it a statue of a soldier that was there?”

  “Yeah, it was a Russian soldier.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Lajos Kossuth.”

  “Who’s he? Isn’t your university called that?”

  Gabi set down the suitcase. “Kossuth is the father of Hungarian democracy and freedom. Too bad we don’t have live ones like him anymore. Now, men like him only exist in stone. It’s safer.” Gabi turned and pointed to a store across from the statue. “Do you remember that?” They walked toward it.

  “Apu’s hardware store.” Tommy’s father had been the manager of The People’s Hardware. Often, he ran in there to get a few pennies to buy his candy. “What happened to Gyuri?” Tommy asked.

  “You remember him?”

  “After Puskás, Gyuri was my hero. He was the star of the Békes soccer team. Then he informed on Apu to the police.”

  “Yeah, the pig. Your father recruited him, got him a cushy job at the hardware store, even gave him money now and then, and then he went and betrayed him. My dad told me that your dad was fired for having too much inventory!”

  “Apu never tires of cursing him. I still don’t understand how having too much stock is a crime. What happened to him?”

  “He made it up to Division II. Played a couple of seasons for Debrecen but drank too much and ended up in jail.”

  “Apu will be happy to hear that.”

  “There used to be a candy kiosk there.” He pointed to where a fountain now stood spouting water through fish mouths.

  “You remember a lot,” Gabi said.

  “I don’t remember her name.”

  “Mrs. Tátrás. She died about three years ago.”

  “So where do you get your rock candy now?”

  “I get my candy from some very sweet ladies,” Gabi smiled.

  For a minute, Tommy didn’t get it. Then he guffawed.

  “There’s our old school. Remember that?”

  “Yeah. Is Mrs. Gombás still teaching there? And Small Potato?”

  “Mrs. Gombás got transferred after the Russians restored order. Some say she got sent to a re-education class. She never came back to Békes.”

  “Anyu will be glad to hear that.”

  “And Small Potato is now the principal. Too bad it’s vacation time. He’s away. We could’ve paid him a visit.”

  As they were standing in the schoolyard in front of the soccer pitch, a policeman approached. “So, the traitors have returned?” he said.

  Tommy was taken aback. The officer was about their age. His hard, round, piggish face looked like it had been in a few fights.

  Gabi said nothing.

  “How much did this Judas give you to sell out your motherland?”

  “What do you want, Szeles?” Gabi said.

  Tommy tensed.

  “Officer Szeles,” the policeman replied. He eyed Tommy. “Your passport.”

  “Why?” Tommy asked.

  “Because a police officer is asking for it. Your passport,” he commanded.

  Tommy clenched his fist. He felt a familiar anger rising in him. Gabi patted his arm as if to say, leave it be. Tommy took a deep breath and handed it over. Szeles examined the cover.

  “So, Canada is where you are hiding now,” he said. “Where is that?”

  “In Canada,” Tommy said.

  Szeles gave him a stern look. Gabi smiled. Szeles flipped through the pages. “You can get it back from the police station when you leave.”

  “No. I would like it back now.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I am a Canadian citizen and I would like to have my passport back now.”

  “You are now in the People’s Socialist Republic of Hungary and you obey its officers and its laws. Do you want to be arrested?”

  “No, but I would like my passport back, please,” he said firmly.

  “We will go with you to the station now,” Gabi said, “and talk to Police Chief Barna, if you want.”

  “Dirty traitors,” he muttered, dropping the passport on the ground.

  Tommy bent to retrieve it. Gabi reached over and squeezed his hand to stop him. He stared at Szeles. Szeles turned and walked away.

  Gabi bent down to pick up the passport. Tommy wanted to lash out but didn’t. That made him angrier.

  “How did he become a policeman?” Tommy asked.

  “He can intimidate people. Rotten louse,” Gabi said, and spat. Tommy did too. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  “Well, here we are,” Gabi announced, pointing to a small house. It looked ancient. Large cracks like veins spread across its pale blue walls and chunks of stucco were missing. The door was askew. Gabi had to lean hard against it to push it open. Tommy reached out to touch the doorpost. The hollow was still there but not the mezuzah. He rubbed it lightly and stepped over the threshold.

  “We’re here!” Gabi c
alled out.

  “Tomikám! Tomikám!” Emma squealed as she came running out from the kitchen. She grabbed him and celebrated the miracle of his return with a shower of tears and a bouquet of loud kisses. She took a step back but held onto his wrists tightly. “Oh my. Oh my,” she repeated between sobs of joy. Her hands slid over his face, stroking his lips, cheeks, and forehead.

  “Oh, my little Tomikám.”

  Lunch was served on the verandah, at the same table that he had played the blind game with his father in the mornings. Sitting on the table in his pyjamas, Tommy would cry out, “I can’t see! I can’t see.”

  “Why? Oh, why?” his father would ask with great worry as he brought him his morning cup of hot milk.

  “Because my eyes are shut,” Tommy would shout, then open his eyes wide and grab the mug from his father, who would slap his palms to his beaming face and exclaim, “A miracle! A miracle!”

  He looked out into the dirt yard, busy with the chickens strutting, clucking and pecking. “I’d forgotten about them,” Tommy said. The playground of his first seven years was so much smaller than he remembered.

  “Do you remember how I tried to stop you from sucking your thumb?” Gabi asked.

  “I’d forgotten that I even did that.”

  “Oh, you were a great thumb sucker. A real loud sucker. Your parents were worried that you’d be doing it in school. They tried to shame you by saying that it was something only babies did, tried to bribe you with rock candy, and slapped your thumb out of your mouth whenever they caught you sucking it. Nothing worked. Then I came up with the brilliant idea of putting chicken shit on your thumb. You yelled and screamed and went running to your mother and she said ‘good’ and told me I should put chicken shit on your thumb anytime I saw you sucking your thumb. And it worked.”

  “It sure did,” Tommy said, sticking his thumb in his mouth. He made loud slurping sounds.

  “Watch out, because I can easily get some more!” He pointed to the chicken coop. It was still there, kitty corner to the outhouse.

  “You still use that?” Tommy asked, pointing to the outhouse.

  “Yup. And still no running water. But the good old well is still there. And we do have electricity.”

  How could so little have changed? Tommy wondered. Change was what Montreal was all about. Every day a store was opening or closing, a new song was number one, a new fashion was coming into fashion. Change was the only constant. But not here. I guess that’s why it’s called the Old World, Tommy thought to himself. “Anyu and Apu told me to get all the news. So, tell me.”

  “Well, we’re doing well. I’m a year away from graduating. I’ll probably work in Debrecen, so I won’t be far from Anyu.”

  “But still far enough for me be alone,” Emma said her eyes misting.

  Tommy and Gabi waited in silence.

  “Aside from us, the only other Jews left in Békes are the Sterns,” Emma continued.

  “How is Rabbi Stern?”

  “So-so. He’s not all there.” Gabi pointed at his temple. “After he was beaten and stuffed into a chicken coop by those thugs, he was never the same.”

  “His wife takes care of him, but she isn’t well either,” said Emma-mama.

  “You remember their son, Yossie?”

  “Yeah, he was the smartest kid in school, but he always got picked on because of his payos and yarmulke.”

  “He’s up in Budapest studying medicine.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Once, when he was visiting, he told me that he wanted to come back and practise medicine in Békes.”

  “Why?”

  “He said he wanted those who hurt him and his family to come see him and call him Doctor Sir. He wanted to tell them to drop their pants, bend over and jab them with needles. And then, have them thank him.”

  Tommy laughed but understood the depth of Yossie’s desire for revenge. “Who else is still around?” he asked.

  “You remember Carrot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s in the army. I told his mother that you were coming. He’s supposed to be home on leave this weekend, so he might join us on Saturday night.”

  “And Frog?”

  Gabi didn’t answer.

  “I’d like to see him.”

  He lowered his voice “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s changed a lot.”

  “How?”

  “Many ways. And it’s caused him problems.”

  “You know, when I was asked by reporters in Budapest if I was going to visit old friends, I mentioned Frog. But the translator left his name out. And after I asked the Canadian Consul why, he hinted that Frog may be a person who’s in trouble with the government and advised me against connecting with him.”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “What kind of trouble is he in?”

  “All kinds, or he was. It seems to be resolved, but it’s still not the best thing to be seen with him.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story and I don’t know all of it.”

  When Gabi saw Emma returning with coffee and pogácsa, he put his finger to his lips.

  “Enough of the news from Békes,” Emma said as she served. “Tell us what happened after we were taken off the train?”

  “Didn’t Mr. Darvas or the Baroness tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Emma almost shouted. “They escaped with you!”

  “No. They turned back at the border.”

  “They didn’t come back here. What happened?” Emma asked.

  “Anyu and Apu didn’t write to you or Magda for a year because they thought that the mail would be opened and figured it would be dangerous for you. And they thought that Mr. Darvas or the Baroness would tell you.”

  “Oh, it was being opened for sure!” Emma said. “The first letter we received was resealed in such a way as to let us know that they were watching us.”

  “It’s one of their scare tactics. Those pigs still do it and make it obvious.”

  “Gabi.” Emma lowered her voice and shot him a stern look.

  “Yes, you pigs!” Gabi shouted at the wall.

  Tommy had to smile. Gabi’s father also used to shout at the walls when he talked about the secret police. It was one of his ways of fighting Big Brother. Tommy read 1984 in high school and remembered his teacher talking about it as a dark satire of Communism. Gabi had probably never heard of the book. It seemed to Tommy that they were living it.

  “What happened to you?” Tommy asked.

  Emma sipped her coffee and stared off into the distance. “After Dezsö punched the secret police guy in the face, chaos broke out in the car,” she said. “Everybody was pushing, shoving, falling, yelling, crying. Dezsö got beaten up badly. They broke his nose and arm. We didn’t see you or your parents. You disappeared. What happened?”

  “Apu did some fancy footwork pretending to be a policeman. Remember the leather coat he was so proud of?”

  Emma nodded. “Dezsö called it Sanyi’s AVO coat because it’s what the secret policemen liked to wear.”

  “Somehow Apu was able to blend in with them in the chaos. And when Anyu and I were being ordered off, he shoved us into the train bathroom and locked the door. We rode all the way to Sopron in there. It stank worse than that outhouse.”

  Gabi laughed.

  “Aunt Magda told me that Dezsö-papa got two years.”

  “Yes. And I got six months.”

  Gabi sneered. “That meant hard labour and beatings. They call that re-education.”

  Tommy now understood why Gabi didn’t want her to know about his coming re-education.

  “Magda, God bless her, took Gabi. Dezsö came back a broken man. He went silent and moody and began drinking heavily.
He always liked to drink but it got out of control. One day he didn’t come home. They found him in a ditch outside of town.”

  Emma began to cry. Gabi held her and let her cry. He glanced over her shoulder at Tommy.

  “Dad used to tell me silence gives them power,” Gabi said.

  “But, what happened to you?” Emma asked as she dried her eyes. She blew her nose.

  “Oh. Well, our guide, you remember him, took us to his mother’s house near the border. We waited for dark and then he took us to the edge of the forest and told us to walk until we got to a shallow part of the river and cross it. We found the river but not the shallow part. We still managed to cross it but Mr. Darvas almost drowned. You remember, he was carrying these two big suitcases attached by a cord around his neck. He slipped and fell, and the cord wound around his neck. Anyu and Apu saved him. His wife, the Baroness, got so scared that she refused to cross. They turned back.”

  “Why did they call her the Baroness?” Gabi asked.

  “Hannah named her that. Péter Darvas was a member of the Party. That made them big shots. She liked to make people know that she was special.”

  “What happened next?” Gabi asked, as rapt as a child listening to an adventure story.

  “When we got to the train tracks we had to cross, the embankments were so steep that we had to slide down. Just as we got to the bottom, we heard a train coming. There weren’t supposed to be any.”

  Emma clasped her hands. “Oh, my God.”

  “We started scrambling back up, but didn’t make it all the way. We had to flatten ourselves against the slope. I remember I was pushed into the embankment by the force. And the noise. That scared me more than anything else.” Tommy paused.

  “And then?” Gabi urged.

  “And then we made it up the other side. But just as we were getting up, a soldier yelled at us to stop.”

  Emma clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “We were standing there. Apu offered the soldier the bottle of pálinka. According to Apu, the soldier was already drunk. I guess he had taken a number of bribes already. As the soldier came toward Apu to take the bottle, he tripped and fell and his rifle went off.”