Once again, she was lost in him, lost as she wanted to be in the only thing that was simple—the hard curve of his back under her fingertips, his mouth on her quivering skin, burning through her like wildfire. Over and over, she murmured his name like a chant, yet still she couldn’t drown out the voice in her head, the voice that would not quiet, mocking her mercilessly.
Yes, Victor, I’ll find an excuse. I’ll lie to my parents. I will deceive the only people in the world who need me, for you. I will cheat, I will steal, I will do anything for mere days with you. I have already lied, and I will do it again without remorse, without shame.
43
Lying for Victor was easier than she thought possible. It astounded her, really, the ease with which she sat across from her parents in the communal area of the flat and told them about the rally she was expected to attend over the weekend.
“It’s in Timisoara,” she said casually. “I will have to spend two additional days on the train, of course, but they will provide us with lodging and food. All my coworkers are going.”
“Oh?” her father said. “What is the rally for?”
“Well, you know, Papa. It’s a pro-Party rally. It’s a chance for young people from all over the country to come together in support of our great leaders. Of course, you know I cannot refuse to go. I am expected to be there, you understand.”
And there it was. The perfect lie, laid out before them. Flawlessly executed. She chewed another bite slowly, looking at her plate.
Of course, she expected her mother to raise a number of objections, to ask about lodging, where they’d be staying, if there was a phone number where she could be reached. Natalia had not thought in advance about how she would answer any of these questions, but she was off to an impressive start. Three days with Victor alone. That was all she needed to think about.
Fortunately, her mother did not probe a great deal more. By the time they had finished supper, her father said he felt tired and was turning in for the night. But he did not go straight to his room. Pushing his chair back, he walked to Natalia and held his hand out to her. When she reached for it, he pulled her to her feet and embraced her with such force that she could not draw a breath.
“I love you with all my heart, dear girl,” he whispered in her ear.
“I know, Papa. I love you, too. Sleep well.”
Still he wouldn’t let go of her. He kept holding her like that, and she thought how strange he was, how emotional. She was only leaving for a few days, but she realized it was the first time she would be doing so since the war.
Eventually, she pulled away from him, and, smiling as serenely as she could manage, she said, “Let’s go to the Hippodrome soon, Papa. Watch the horse races, when I get back. What do you think? Just you and I, like we used to.”
He said nothing, but in reply, he took her hand and kissed it, held it against his lips for several moments before letting it go. “Just like we used to, my love.”
Then he turned and went to his room.
Later that night, as her mother flicked the dial on their small black-and-white television searching for a movie, Natalia set aside a couple of dresses, her sandals, a straw hat—most of her entire summer wardrobe. From under the davenport, she extracted a small valise and began stacking her things inside it. Her movements slowed gradually, until they came to a full stop. Crumpling a cream slip to her chest, she turned to her mother.
“Mama, I want to tell you something. I don’t know how to tell you, though.”
But her mother wasn’t listening. Her gaze was fixed on the small screen, where the image of Rita Hayworth had materialized among the thin, vertical lines that passed over the screen. Flipping her cascading hair, she smiled coyly at the camera, which zoomed in on her dazzling face, and Natalia let out a small, startled gasp. Right there, looking directly at her, was the mother of her youth. As a child, she’d grown used to people commenting on the uncanny resemblance. Yet it wasn’t until this moment, as her eyes drifted from the famous American star to her mother and back again, that she realized how much her mother had changed, how altered she’d become over the years.
Despina, too, seemed oddly melancholic and dropped her head against the sofa rest. Rain drummed quietly on the windowpane as Natalia curled up on the sofa next to her. On the screen, the images flickered away, changing the room from bright to dark to bright again. A man in a black tuxedo was smoking a cigar as he stood by the fireplace. Rita was seated at a table nearby, sipping a glass of champagne. She stood, and, lifting a stole from the back of her chair, she shimmied toward him in a cream silk gown, diamonds catching a glint of light, illuminating her flawless skin, her deeply rouged lips. This might as well have been her mother once, free of complications, before food lines and nights without fuel and hot water.
For an instant, before she nuzzled against her, Natalia studied the softened lines of her profile, her hair gathered at the nape and sparsely threaded with silver, the fragile, curved slope of her shoulders. She was beautiful still, her mother, but in a way that resembled a fractured porcelain doll, one that could shatter into a million pieces in the slightest gust of wind. It stunned her, this fragility that she had not seen before. Her mother had always seemed larger than life, formidable, the pillar of their family, the one who had kept them together through war and illness and uncertainty and loss. It hadn’t occurred to Natalia until now that anything on earth could alter her. She realized suddenly that telling her about Victor might not be the right thing to do. That as much as she wanted to let the truth out into the open, she would have to keep it to herself, at least for a little while longer.
“Mama, are you sure you don’t mind me going?” she asked instead.
Her mother got up and turned off the television. She sat back down next to her and took both of her hands in hers. When Natalia lifted her gaze and looked into those soulful eyes, she was surprised to see that they were filled with tears.
“Talia, your happiness is the only thing that has ever mattered to me. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mama, I know,” she whispered, a little confused. Did her mother suspect she had lied to them? That it wasn’t her cousin or work friends she’d been spending all this time with, that, in fact, she hadn’t seen Lidia since last Christmas?
“I love you more than anything in the world. You are the most precious thing in my life. You always have been . . .”
“I know. I love you, too, Mama.”
“Don’t forget that, Talia. Do you promise me? Do not forget how much you mean to me. You have made my life truly beautiful.”
Natalia smiled, falling into her arms. “It’s only three days, Mama. I’ll miss you, though.”
44
FOR HOURS, SHE’D BEEN AWAKE. The hands of the grandfather clock would not move fast enough, a full rotation, then another, the sound of its faint rusted chime bringing her closer to her three days with Victor. Through the window, a weak light started to filter in, but it was still too early to rise. Her straw valise had been packed the night before and was waiting by the door. Into it she had haphazardly tossed just the bare necessities, even though Victor had warned her to bring some warm clothes as well, since the weather at the seaside was unpredictable.
In any case, her clothing choices were rather limited, and all she really cared about bringing was a silk dress the color of roses that shimmered around her like liquid when she moved in it. It was a hand-me-down from Lidia, but in it she looked older and downright glamorous, much like the actresses in the movie last night. As she gazed at the ceiling, she imagined Victor’s reaction, his lingering glance before walking to her slowly and sliding the spaghetti straps down the length of her shoulders, letting his fingers graze her skin. Two more hours, the pendulum said.
Only a few days had passed since she’d last seen him, and yet he was all she could think about. He had told her that he’d be busy, that there were work commitments he had to take care of before they could leave. But he had not even come by he
r work, and he had not tried to call. It wasn’t like him to be out of touch for so long. She tried to conjure his exact words when they parted. What was it that he had said to her?
“Be at the pastry shop around the corner from your house at seven o’clock sharp. If we get to Constanta in time, we can watch the sunset from our hotel balcony.”
That was what she needed to focus on. That and, more immediately, how she would manage to slip out of the flat without waking her parents. She knew her mother would fuss and insist that she eat breakfast before the long train ride. Her father would ask again where she was going, and she did not have the heart to repeat it a second time. No, it was best if she was gone by the time they were up.
In the budding light of a welcome dawn, Natalia got out of bed and made her way quietly to the bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind her. It was not her family’s allotted time, but she knew everyone would still be asleep at this hour. Hastily, she splashed some cold water on her face and brushed her teeth, then combed her hair a dozen times and clipped it back in a silver barrette. Daylight had already spilled into her room by the time she tiptoed back in to change and grab her valise. Her eyes traveled over the room, making sure everything was in place, before she flew out the door, her heart in a mad gallop.
Leaping over the steps, two and three at a time, then past the row of metal mailboxes, she burst through the entrance door and into the street. She had never felt more alive, her whole being blazing with excitement, and she practically ran to the end of the block, though when she got there, her feet stilled. There wasn’t a soul in sight anywhere near the pastry shop, only a few pigeons pecking crumbs from the sidewalk, scattering off at the sound of her steps. Nervously, she checked her watch. She was on time, not a minute late, as Victor had insisted. She let her suitcase drop onto the landing and leaned against the wall. Had she misunderstood the place? The time? She was sure she had to be here at seven o’clock sharp.
Another twenty minutes passed with no sign of him. Then an unwelcome thought slammed into her: What if he had changed his mind? She couldn’t bring herself to consider it, yet as the minutes ticked by, it seemed more and more like the only possibility. Closing her eyes so that she would no longer have to look at the empty street, she sat there breathing in and out, trying to calm herself, but she could not keep her mind from reeling. How long could she wait? What would she tell her parents if he didn’t come after all and she had to go back inside? Would she tell them that she had spent the better part of the year lying to them? That she had been naive enough to fall for a man nearly twice her age, someone in whom they had once placed their trust and affection?
Suddenly, she heard an engine, almost as in a stupor, at the end of the block, and Victor’s car came into view. She stood and inched toward the edge of the sidewalk, everything too stark and too jarring, no longer romantic in the full light of morning.
“Hello, Talia, I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, getting out of the car a moment later and coming around to take her suitcase. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Well, a bit, but not long,” she lied, forcing herself to smile. More lies, more covers. But she did not want him to know how mere seconds earlier, she had been certain she would never see him again.
“Hello,” he repeated, and, holding open the passenger door, he planted a hasty kiss on her lips. With a further drop of her heart, she noticed how disheveled he looked. Days must have passed since he last shaved, and his eyes were bleary, with dark circles beneath them. It was the first time she had seen him out in public with his hair not perfectly glossed.
“I’m ready,” she said, glancing at him unsurely, feeling a little short of breath. Sinking into the tan leather seat, she slid off her scarf. Victor jumped in beside her.
“Late, darling. Need to get going,” he muttered, checking his watch and popping the shift into gear.
Over cobblestone streets and around sharp corners, their car sped away. It began to drizzle, and he turned on the windshield wipers. For a while, there was nothing but the scrape of rubber over the glass, back and forth, back and forth, smearing the summer dust in a semicircle as Natalia’s head throbbed painfully.
He still had not spoken a single word by the time the maze of intersecting boulevards, with their hurried pedestrians, cheaply made domestic cars, and clattering streetcars, began to thin out. Soon the side streets turned into wide thoroughfares lined with concrete tenement blocks that stretched interminably under the hazy morning sky. And then those disappeared, too, and they were traveling on a smaller two-lane highway that cut through a vast open field, passing nothing for kilometers but an oil refinery and a factory that manufactured automobile parts for export. The entire time, Victor’s eyes remained fixed ahead, both hands gripping the wheel.
“Victor, is something the matter?” Natalia heard herself saying at last, unable to contain her anxiety any longer.
He gave her a sideways glance, not answering, not smiling, but his hand reached across and grabbed hers unexpectedly. He squeezed it so tightly that she almost let out a cry. It was meant as a sign of affection, she was sure of that, but it only made her more nervous. She went back to staring out the window, fighting back tears, tears that she was afraid would propel them into an unwanted exchange. He did not have to say much, after all. The truth hung between them, requiring no useless utterances. Surely, if he opened his mouth, he’d say that he loved her still but that this was their good-bye. Their last time together. Perhaps he’d even change his mind and turn the car around, head back to the city. It was best, she decided, if she kept silent about her misgivings until they got to the sea. It gave her time to think, which she needed desperately—time to figure out what to say to him once they got there, how to convince him that she’d try harder, make more time for him, do whatever on earth it was that he wanted.
A plane roared overhead, slicing through the grayish overcast skies, pulling her like a magnet out of her daze. She leaned forward, looking up through the windshield, and caught a glimpse of it as it passed over, leaving behind a trail of exhaust. It reminded her of the Luftwaffe fighters during the war, when they flew so close over the rooftops that she could make out the SS insignia on the underside of the wings. Another plane passed, flying even lower, closer to the highway. Several minutes later, a third one.
A few kilometers farther on, they came to a crossing. As the car slowed and came to a stop, she thought it was strange that there was a traffic light out here in the middle of nowhere. By now, there should have been nothing but green pastures and patches of pine trees, the salty scent of the sea piercing the air.
She turned quite suddenly, all of her being shifting in this one move toward him. “Victor, are we on the right road?”
Again, no answer. She glanced behind, trying to make out the highway sign they had just passed, but it was too far back. The light changed, and Victor stepped on the gas, moving through the intersection, but instead of gaining speed, he veered the car to the side of the road. In the distance, the outline of a concrete building shimmered against the skyline. She did not know what it was. The adrenaline was pumping through her so fast that she felt faint.
“Talia, there is something I have to tell you.”
His words seeped through her like water. Here we go, then, she thought. She observed her own hands as if they belonged to someone else, the way they balled into fists, trembling. Her throat was closing around her breath.
“We are not going to the Black Sea,” he said.
“No.” It fell from her mouth like a stone. “So where, then?”
“We’re headed to the airport. I’m taking you to the airport.”
Before she could say anything more, he reached across her lap and tugged open the glove compartment. From it he extracted a brown envelope. After opening the flap, he pulled out a small green booklet, which he held out to her. Natalia stared at it but didn’t take it.
“Do you know what this is? This is your passport. I’m taking you
to the airport. You are leaving the country. Today.”
It did not register right away. Whatever he had said to her did not sink in, for her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about their last afternoon together, when he’d begged her to come along with him as if the world might break apart if she refused. As if his very existence hung on her saying yes. But now he was saying these terrible, incomprehensible words—that he was taking her to the airport—and she was whiplashed back into the moment. She stared at him, at the thing in his hand, and she burst into laughter. She was laughing uncontrollably, hysterically, as if she had lost hold of her senses. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Was this how he was planning to get rid of her? She was laughing still when he reached his arm out over her shoulders, clamping them firmly.
“Stop it, Talia. Breathe.”
“Why are you doing this?” she croaked, gurgling her words.
“Talia, this isn’t a game. I am not trying to deceive you. This is your passport. This, here, is a plane ticket. You’re going to the United States, to New York City.”
“It’s not possible,” she said, because she knew that it couldn’t be. No one left from behind the Iron Curtain. No one other than state officials, the president and his trusted aides, the highest members of the Security Police. And a ticket to America would have cost a fortune. Even Victor, with all his military connections and his wife’s wealth, couldn’t have pulled this off.
“Your plane leaves in two hours,” he insisted. “There will be a three-hour stop in Munich. That’s where you will board the Pan Am flight that will take you across the ocean. To New York City.”
She looked at the green booklet that he placed in her lap. So slowly that her hands were barely moving, she picked it up and opened it. There was her picture, a recent one, her name, address, nationality, date of birth. On the next page, there was a small stamp in the middle of the page. It was an entry visa from the United States embassy.
The Girl They Left Behind Page 24