Strangers in Budapest
Page 14
Annie needed the distraction. And now, as she approached the hotel, she saw that her wish would be granted. A boisterous crowd had filled the sidewalk in front of the building, chanting, “Michael! Michael! Michael!” She couldn’t believe it. Hungarians screaming with enthusiasm? Annie joined them at the back of the crowd. She stood higher on her toes for a better view. There! The crowd roared approval and then she saw the real Michael Jackson emerge onto a balcony ten stories above them, looking ethereal, his new wife, Lisa Marie, calmly standing beside him, holding his hand. The pop star wore a red military jacket with gold buttons. He waved and smiled, then turned to the daughter of Elvis, his beautiful petite wife. The crowd roared. And even though Lisa Marie’s pale face was half-obscured by her thick dark hair, she commanded equal attention, looking regal in a black double-breasted jacket. The crowd roared again as the couple stepped back into the hotel room, out of view. And then she heard, “Annie! Annie!”
She turned. Bernardo Lopez raised his hand and waved wildly at her, weaving through rows of people to reach her.
“I can’t believe you spotted me.”
“Who else is in jogging shorts?”
She let him hug her and then she said, “Did you see him? Can you believe it?”
“You like that freak, Annie? I would not have guessed.”
“I think he’s fantastic. An absolute genius. A music god.”
Bernardo shrugged. “A freaky genius. Guy’s got a weird obsession with kids.”
“He does a lot of good. People forget that. He has a skin disease. Did you know that?”
“Sure. Look, we all have our tastes. He just doesn’t do it for me. Hey, I wish him the best. I bet that marriage doesn’t last a year.”
She shrugged at the comment.
“They’ve got people standing guard at the elevators,” he said. “It’s a zoo. If I’d known, I would have stayed someplace else. I had to get out of there. Where you heading?”
“Home.”
She saw him give her a quick approving once-over from her T-shirt to her jogging shoes—and wondered if he was comparing her to the woman he picked up at Club Z? She knew how he operated, which both flattered and repulsed her. At Fendix, she remembered how he was constantly assessing other women at the business conferences she attended with Will, in restaurants, in hotel lobbies, in nightclubs.
Annie offered him a polite, disinterested smile. She also knew that he probably planned on changing her view of him since he’d left abruptly with that woman at Club Z. Bernardo needed her to like him. If he managed to sway her, get her back on his side, Will would stay to help him. Bernardo recognized the power of wives. If a wife resisted an executive move, it screwed things up every time.
“How did Will get so lucky?”
“How did you get so lucky with Eileen? Last night you’d started to tell me how she was.” She liked Eileen. His wife possessed an innate charisma and a winning smile like her husband. And she wasn’t shy about showing off her huge breasts and curvaceous figure, a trait Annie admired about her. No other women could beat that, certainly not Bernardo’s Club Z conquest.
He raked his fingers through his hair as if he were trying to straighten his thoughts. “Truthfully, it’s a complicated question. She’s fine. She’s hard-headed. Like me, I guess.” He walked alongside her. “Where did you say you were heading?”
“Back home.”
He frowned. He wasn’t looking happy this morning.
“Deals with the kids, does it all.” He took her elbow and turned to her, his cheeks flushing. “Join me for a drink or a Coke? How about it?”
She wanted to decline, but the curious part of her, the part that wanted to know who he really was, said, “Sure. But it’s Coke for me today. I had my fill at Club Z.”
“Sorry about that. Listen, Annie, I took the girl home and crashed at the hotel.”
Annie squinted. “I don’t know what to say. That’s your business. But you’re not subtle.”
“Don’t say anything more. You’re right. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”
She presumed that meant he had sex with the woman before he went back to his hotel and now regretted it. She’d heard rumors about him from other wives at Fendix, rumors that Bernardo had affairs on the road. Did everyone know except Eileen? She doubted it. Eileen wasn’t clueless.
“When is Eileen coming over?”
“In a few days. So she says.”
They stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. “What will you do if she doesn’t want to relocate? Commute back and forth? How long do you plan to be here?”
“Don’t know that either.”
Bernardo steered her into a small cafe a block from the river.
“Looks decent,” he said.
“Looks new. Every week another one opens up.” Dark wood paneling, black granite tabletops, cafe-style, and a sleek bar with stools gave it a hip vibe. They sat at the bar.
Bernardo ordered a beer.
“Coke,” Annie said.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“You sure are looking beautiful as ever. Tell me the truth. You like it here? Between you and me, I’ve got marriage troubles. What can I do?” Bernardo looked at her in a pleading way. “Boom boom boom,” he said, chopping his hand on the bar. “We have three kids and it gets worse with each one. Not the kids. I love my kids. But Eileen’s changed. She’s angry. So she gained weight? I don’t care if she’s overweight. I told her to join a gym. She can diet.” He drank half the glass and put his hand up to order another.
At the shelter in Boston, Annie had listened to so many broken men confessing about their failed marriages—not unlike Bernardo’s unloading to her now. They told her how they had screwed up. If only they’d paid more attention. If only they had stopped drinking. If only. There were so many variations of that. She grew up with it. If only Greg’s errant pitch hadn’t destroyed Tracy’s life . . . or Greg’s.
“People change. Life changes,” she said. “I guess that’s the tricky part.” She wanted to say, Bernardo, messing around with other women won’t convince Eileen to hurry over, but she knew that was the kind of thing people always wanted to say but never did to people who had affairs. She was thirsty and drank her Coke too quickly, the fizz burning the back of her throat.
“Yeah. Things change and you don’t even know it,” Bernardo said. “I can’t tell you when it started to go bad. Maybe the kids? Maybe that’s an excuse. I don’t know. Question is whether we can repair the damage.”
“Do you want to repair it?” She finished her soda and noted with approval how the cafe’s decor hit the right notes for her. Modern and hip, it made her like Budapest again, and for some reason, she liked that Bernardo was confiding in her. Maybe it made her feel more in control.
He started on his second beer.
“Problems snowball. You know what I’m saying? Pregnancy was hard on her. She gained weight. Then the next one, and the third. She went through a lot. I give her that. You know she used to play tennis. She was in good shape. She swims. The pool helps.” He looked at her. “I’m talking too much.”
“Talking can help.”
“You know Eileen. You know how she is.”
“She’s strong, I know that.” Annie knew that Eileen was athletic, muscular, and held her big breasts proudly, and how she admired his wife for that. She carried her breasts like trophies. In a bathing suit, she had an attitude, a woman’s swagger that countered her husband’s, who, to Annie’s mind, acted as if life were a swimming pool filled with naked women dying to screw him.
“Can I get you another?”
“I’m good.” She held up her hands to tell him she was fine, but she wasn’t fine. She was talking to a married man who had picked up a woman at Club Z, right in front of her, and here she was trying to minimize his infidelity. He was lonely? So what. She was lonely, too, for friends, for a feeling of direction. Who was she to judge?
“How long are you staying?”
“Great. That’s a start.”
“So what makes you happy, Annie, besides Leo and Will?”
She cupped her chin into her palm and leaned toward him. “Lots of things.” She wondered herself about happiness because she did not feel happy in this city, but she would never tell Bernardo that. “Good people. Good weather. Good conversation. I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, I’ll tell you what makes me happy. Money makes me happy, healthy kids and a good woman.” He nodded to the waiter for the check. “You like it here? Tell me the truth. You’ve been here—what? Almost a year?”
“Forever,” she said, then sat back and caught herself.
“Feels long, does it?”
His eyes locked with hers, not missing a beat or a moment of vulnerability as he lifted his beer and finished it off. “Not sure that’s a good sign.” He had that predatory gaze that she remembered from Fendix, his eyes flicking restlessly around the room, seeking to fill something, seeking answers, seeking a way up his private ladder to success.
“Long enough not to feel like a visitor anymore.”
“That’s why I need you. You can show Eileen around. Would you do that?”
“I’d be happy to. She’ll like it in the hills. That’s where the Americans live, except us.”
“Why not you?”
“We liked the idea of living away from Americans, but that’s us. Your kids will go to the international school. We don’t have that concern yet.”
Bernardo tore his napkin into small pieces.
“The people here don’t smile, have you noticed?” he said, pushing the pieces toward her. “They don’t look you in the eye.”
She laughed. “Yes. Observant of you. They slide their eyes. Like this.” She moved her eyes sideways and they both laughed heartily.
“Jesus. I thought I was the only one. What’s with these people?”
“There’s subtle stuff you can’t see or feel unless you live here.”
“Sure. But you like it?”
“Sure,” she said, but the word felt forced.
The older waiter placed the bill in front of Bernardo. “You take American dollars?”
“Persze,” the waiter said.
“Tell me, how did Will convince you to come over?”
“He didn’t. I wanted to come. We both did. And Leo is not in school. He doesn’t care where he lives as long as he’s with us. That makes it less complicated. Easier.” She finished her Coke, the glass half the size of a typical American serving. “I’ve been told the American school isn’t bad. I haven’t heard anyone complain about it, but then, I may not be the best person to talk to about that. I could get you some names, though. Eileen should call one of the mothers who have kids in school.” Annie thought of Betsy from the American women’s lunch.
“She used to love traveling, before the kids,” Bernardo said, rolling one of the napkin pieces into a ball.
“She’d have plenty of help here. Super cheap, too. How old are your kids now?”
“All under ten. Two in school. One heading for kindergarten. I don’t know what she’s afraid of—not your problem, is it?” he said, standing up to leave. “Thanks for indulging me, Annie.”
“I’ll see you next time with Eileen, okay?” she said.
“You bet.”
Bernardo gave her a bear hug and this time she didn’t resist. It felt genuine enough. “See you.” As he left the cafe and hurried across the street, he raised his hand in a backward wave.
Annie decided that was how he had sex. A quick backward wave of his hand, a flourish and then off. She looked at her watch—almost noon. As Annie crossed over to the Buda side once again, she recast her opinion of Bernardo. Was it that he had decided to present her with a kinder, less certain side of himself? He looked miserable, lost in thought, his eyebrows pulled low.
The air was hitting its peak temperature, hot and moist. As she headed down the utca toward her apartment building, the pavement smelled of warm tar. She wondered if Bernardo were testing her, the way he’d been prodding her about happiness and all of that, hoping she might be lonely enough to sleep with him on another afternoon while Will was off on his mayoral hunts.
In front of their apartment building, she saw their Saab parked and felt relieved that Will was back.
“Hey!” Will called to her from the doorway.
He looked tall and handsome as ever, but weary.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, kissing him. “You’re not smiling.”
He tilted his head, thinking of something. “Wish I had good news.”
She knew she ought to probe further and ask Will for more details. At the same time, she felt empty of cheer. What could she say to him at this point that would change things for him. The only concrete prospect was Bernardo’s offer and that was not something she wanted Will to pursue. Yet Bernardo was persuasive. She felt herself weakening.
“I ran into Bernardo near his hotel. He bought me a Coke. I actually felt bad for him.”
“He’s a lonely man.”
“Lonely and ambitious. He apologized for his behavior at Club Z.”
“That’s Bernardo. The charmer.”
“Right. He wants you to sign that contract.”
“You sound like you’re changing your mind about it,” Will said.
“No. But I felt sorry for him. I really did. He says Eileen doesn’t want to come over with the kids, but she’s coming for a visit. I think his marriage is in serious trouble.”
They entered the dark foyer, passing the garbage bins. The sound of the super’s television tinkled through the thin door.
“Who knows where the truth lies between those two,” Will said, pushing the elevator button.
Truth. That was another one of those words that tripped her up. At the shelter, she had heard so many versions of it.
Nineteen
Dear Annie and Will,
How are you? We have been busy. Josef got a letter from Steven Spielberg. That’s right. The famous movie director. He started an organization called the Shoah Foundation. You remember his movie Schindler’s List? Mr. Spielberg wants to record survivors’ stories. They want to film Josef. Josef is excited and agitated. You can understand. The memories it brings up. We’ll see. How is business? And most important of all, how is our little Leo? He must be getting big. Send us a picture. We are waiting to hear from you.
Love,
Rose and Josef
PS: Did I mention that your house was repainted? It is dark green. You would not recognize it.
Annie put the fax into the stroller’s back pocket and headed out with Leo to meet Will for lunch at one of the state-run cafeterias, then on to the ferry to Vienna. She needed to write Rose but kept avoiding it, not wanting to write about the shadows of loneliness and disappointment trailing her, or about Edward and his daughter—his murdered daughter—and his request for help and, worse, whether she believed him or not. A trip to Vienna offered a mini-escape as she struggled to make up her mind. For eight-plus months, she’d been holding her breath in this city of contradicting currents.
“You can’t save him,” Will had said again in the kitchen before leaving to meet Bernardo for a breakfast meeting. She had finally told him about Edward’s daughter and how Edward had straight-out asked her to help him, and how she had, without thinking it through, said yes.
“I’m not trying to save him. He asked for help because he believes his daughter was murdered.”
“You don’t want to get in over your head.”
“And you?”
Will turned to her. “What’s wrong, Annie?”
“Are you in over your head?”
“No. I don’t think so.” He spoke slowly, looking at her, waiting for her to say more.
“Maybe I’m not either.” She went into Leo’s room to get him dresse
d and ready for their trip.
On the way to the cafeteria, she called Edward.
“It’s Annie. How are you?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“I wanted to let you know that we’re going to Vienna today for one night. I’ll see you as soon as we get back.”
“What’s the reason for your trip?”
“We’ve been talking about going for a while.”
“I tell you about my daughter and now you’re running off to Vienna. I told you not to waste my time.”
“I’m not running off. We’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“I see what I see.” He hung up.
Stunned, she felt nauseated, punched in the stomach by his accusatory words. Leo was oblivious, waving a stick, happy to be in the jogger. She considered calling Edward back to tell him the timing wasn’t related—her trip and his daughter. Or was it? She walked faster, tears rising, her anger stirring with confusion. His voice jabbed at her, poked at her soft spots, hurting her. That was how he operated, wasn’t it? Provoke and conquer. Why did she let him get to her like this? Her wiser self understood he was in pain, inconsolable pain. That was all he could see. But that didn’t excuse his rude, abrupt behavior, did it? Working at the shelter, she learned not to judge. It was her number one rule. What did Mr. Weiss expect of her? He nudged and prodded her to act, take a stand. What did she need to prove?
Her family came first. Even Edward would agree with her on that. And what was Edward doing here? If he found his son-in-law, then what?
SHE PASSED THE Király Baths with the enormous green domes, the jogger practically driving on its own, the large wheels rolling over the sidewalk. How alien the domes looked to her last winter, hovering like spaceships above dark-limbed, bare trees. The city was known for its cleansing baths—famous for it—another favorite Hungarian word. She could use a cleansing bath for her own murky emotions. Was she losing her sanity? What was right?
She slowed down again and soon came to a memorial statue of Bem József, where demonstrators gathered during Hungary’s 1956 uprising—that bloody, brief explosion of hope for freedom. Almost every day she passed this statue, never stopping until now. She let Leo out of the jogger so he could touch the giant concrete figure dressed in an ankle-length coat and helmet. The statue of Bem József looked stern and defiant, one arm raised, a long finger pointing at the sky. As Leo started up the small steps to touch the base of the statue, Annie spotted Stephen smoking a cigarette on a bench nestled behind a small fir tree.