Strangers in Budapest

by Jessica Keener

  “Hello there,” he said.

  “I run into you in the oddest places,” she said, parking the jogger next to the bench.

  “I come here a lot.” Stephen took a long pull of his cigarette, this time not making any attempt to hide his habit. “It’s my sanctuary, you could say. A place where I come to honor my dad.”

  “I’m sorry,” Annie said.

  “Sorry doesn’t bring them back, does it?” A wrinkle of bitterness passed over his face.

  “No. But I’m still sorry.” That’s how she felt about Greg’s death. Sorry for her brother’s sad, unfulfilled life. Sorry that she couldn’t bring him back for a second chance.

  “That’s fair.” Stephen tilted his head back and blew a long stream of smoke at the blue sky, then tossed the dying butt into the trees behind him. “Where are you heading on this hot day?”

  “Vienna. We’re taking the ferry and staying overnight. Do you have any recommendations?”

  “The museums. There’s no denying their greatness.” He twisted his mouth as if he’d eaten bitter flakes of tobacco and were trying to spit them out. “But to be honest, the city doesn’t do much for me. You’ll enjoy the cafes. The pastries. When you get back, you can tell me what you think about it. Just don’t forget how rich countries like America and Austria are blind to the needs of countries like Hungary. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

  “Up up.”

  They both looked at Leo stretching his arms to get a better look at the statue looming over him.

  Before she could tell him to stop, Stephen lunged toward Leo and scooped him up onto his shoulders so that Leo could touch the statue’s supersize shoes.

  “Careful,” she said, standing behind Stephen, holding her arms out ready to catch her son if he fell back.

  “He’s fine.” Stephen flipped Leo over and placed his feet gently on the ground.

  “Again!” Leo said, thrilled with his new friend.

  “Next time, little guy. I’ve got to get going. Happy travels. I’m sure Leo will love the boat ride.”

  Stephen bent his head in that way that she had first found appealing at Luigi’s, friendly yet offhanded. Except this time, she saw how his carefree manner was an endearing attempt to lighten the gravity of his father’s memory that she had unexpectedly interrupted.

  With Leo back in the jogger, she started to run again to shake off her own unsettled memories. Yes. Taking this trip would be a welcome change, no matter what Mr. Weiss said.

  When she first came to Budapest, she couldn’t comprehend Hungary’s widespread commemoration of battles lost. Slowly, she was beginning to understand that the country needed to celebrate courage, the simple yet monumental act of standing up for a belief, regardless of the outcome. That’s what mattered—that people did not die in vain. In 1956, innocent men and women were gunned down by Russian tanks, a few thousand brave souls risked their lives for justice, freedom for all, and the power to make choices. They got no help from the American troops who were a mere four hours away in Austria. In the end, their deaths released two hundred thousand Hungarians—a massive exodus west to dozens of countries—some walking into Austria, others flying to America, like Stephen’s family, escaping years of terror, years of silent witness to fathers, neighbors, friends disappearing in the night, tortured by secret police inside plain brick buildings. The insanity was everywhere in this city of lost dreams and failures. What had Stephen’s father seen? And what disturbances had he passed on to Stephen as a young child?

  Where were the informers—the “bricks,” as Will had informed her they were called? How many of them were like her super, hiding behind innocuous jobs, living with vectors of those dark days circling inside their heads with no place to escape except inward, into the caverns of the mind. It was madness.

  Was Mr. Weiss right? Was she running off? She had her son to think about. He had his daughter. If she tried to help him, what would she be getting herself into? A murder? And what about her son’s safety?

  Yes. Yes. She was afraid. She was a mother. She had a responsibility now. She felt tested. The idea of summoning courage was easy to ponder as long as you didn’t have to do anything about it. Doing something made all the difference.

  She approached another small neighborhood park they often visited, one of many such parks scattered throughout the city, and saw their friend Katya sitting on a park bench. She and Leo had befriended the older Hungarian woman from many morning visits to the swings.

  “Katya!” Annie called out.“Hogy vagy? How are you?” Annie slowed the jogger but didn’t stop.

  Katya waved and blew Leo a kiss. She was a short buxom woman with gray hair pulled up in a bun. She didn’t speak more than a dozen words of English. Annie couldn’t speak more than a few dozen Hungarian words, yet the two women had learned to talk to each other using their hands, facial expressions, and a traveler’s dictionary. Annie had even managed to explain to Katya that Will was here for work and how her parents couldn’t visit because her sister was sick. Beteg.

  “Sick. Nem good.” The older woman had put a hand over her heart in sympathy and with gentle, warm eyes conveyed without words her full understanding of life’s complexities. It’s why Annie was drawn to older people like Rose and Katya, even Mr. Weiss.

  Annie felt a connection with this woman who had a heart condition, its treatment hindered by the expense of medicine in the new noncommunist world that Katya couldn’t afford. Katya told Annie her pension didn’t cover her living costs anymore.

  “Nem good for old people,” Katya said.

  Annie wondered if she should offer Katya money to help her out but feared offending the older woman’s pride.

  REACHING THE CAFETERIA, she found Will sitting at a long metal table, waiting for them with a tray full of food—roasted chicken breasts, quartered potatoes, and vanilla pudding.

  “How’d it go with Bernardo?” she said, kissing Will and giving him a hug. “Thanks for getting lunch for us.”

  “He wants me to come on board. Nothing’s changed.”

  “What about you? Are you tempted? It’s a lot of money.” She immediately set upon cutting the chicken into smaller pieces for Leo.

  “I’m listening to what he has to say. He’s staying another week. Eileen is coming over to check things out. The money’s hard to ignore.”

  “When do you have to decide?”

  “Soon. Don’t worry. I won’t make any decisions without you. We’ll decide together.”

  “I know. I’m glad we’re going on this trip. It will give us some perspective.”

  “I completely agree.”

  She ate quickly, excited that they had finally decided to take the ferry, her mood lifting with the prospect of a four-hour boat ride down the famous Danube. In the cafeteria, an elderly man shuffled over to them, stopped to smile at Leo, then pretended to grab his nose. Universal baby trick. Leo giggled, encouraging him, so the old man leaned over and gave Leo a gentle pinch on his cheek. Kicsi baba.

  Both she and Will smiled politely. The man bowed to them and left. These state-run cafeterias around the city were some of her favorite places to eat. Housed in large old buildings with big windows, fifteen-foot ceilings, industrial ceiling fans, and scuffed-up linoleum floors, no tourists came here, and for that reason Annie felt privileged, as if she had gained access to a country’s secret space where history and people converged in a way that most outsiders never experienced.

  “We should go,” Will said, standing. “We don’t want to miss our boat.”

  Outside, Annie wanted to cry when she saw the same old man begging for money on the sidewalk. He turned to them and opened his palm. She felt ashamed for him when he looked at her without recognition, as if he hadn’t seen her just minutes before, had never stopped to pinch their son’s cheek, and she felt effectively slapped by her own stupidity and arrogance. She understood that he had a job to do out here on the street, that begging for money had no connection to who he was a moment ago inside. In this
way, he put her in her place, humbled her. Who was she to judge? Who was she to imagine his shame? Presume his pride? What did she know of his life? She heard Mr. Weiss telling them how Americans were never satisfied. Always wanting more. Am I right?

  She put a ten-thousand-forint bill into the man’s palm. More than a day’s pay for some. The old man nodded, a hint of delight in his eyes, a triumph of good fortune before he turned away from her to beg from someone else.

  Twenty

  On board the ferry, she sat by the window so Leo could get a good view. Will sat on the aisle. It wasn’t a large boat. She guesstimated it could accommodate about sixty people. Rounding the river away from Budapest, they passed Visegrád Castle, a thirteenth-century stone structure perched high on the ledge of a steep cliff.

  “Look at that,” she said, pointing up so Leo would notice.

  Leo slapped the window with his palm, batting at the spray frothing up from the hydroplane’s motor.

  “That was a cultural hub in Europe five hundred years ago,” Will said.

  The boat moved past the cliff.

  “It looks so fragile.”

  From the river, the castle looked as if it might crumble, the stones barely clinging to the cliff.

  “That’s where Hungary, Poland, and Czechoslovakia signed an agreement to cooperate. That was in 1991, I believe.”

  “An agreement to cooperate . . . that almost sounds funny.”

  “To show solidarity among nations.”

  She sighed and leaned back in her seat, gingerly readjusting Leo’s shoulders. He leaned into her, nestling his head against her breast.

  “Not much in the way of cooperation around here, is there?” she said.

  “What’s eating at you?”

  “I called Edward today.”

  “When?”

  “Before lunch.”

  Will nodded.

  “How is he?”

  “Mad that I’m taking this trip.”

  “Why did you call him?”

  “I called to tell him we were going away and that we’d be back tomorrow night. I felt that was the right thing to do.”

  Will marked a place in his book, then draped his arm around her shoulder. “Good thing we’re getting away. I worry about you.”

  “I worry about you, too,” she said.

  They were the only Americans on the boat. She presumed most of the other passengers were Hungarians or Austrians. She heard strands of sentences, those rich, gentle undulations in Magyar—the Hungarian word for Hungarian—and an occasional German-sounding word. To her American ear, the rhythms and consonants of Maygar sounded like soft-clicking k’s and t’s and the vowels like gentle hushings and chortles from the back of the throat. Behind her, an older Hungarian couple unwrapped sandwiches, the wax paper crackling. In front of her, a man was reading Hungary’s main newspaper.

  Why Hungary? Her parents had gasped in disbelief when she told them of their plans to move there. Why Hungary? What’s in Hungary? She no longer had a good answer.

  They sat for a while watching the shoreline pass by, a bare, treeless shoreline. The dark water bubbled from the ferry’s engines, a rocking that eventually put Leo to sleep.

  “Annie, I need to talk to you about our money situation.”

  She turned to Will, taken aback by his tone of voice.

  “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “We may have to break into our savings.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “I know.”

  “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  “It’s as good a time as any.” Will shifted his legs and stretched them under the seat ahead of him. “To keep going, I’ll need additional funding.”

  “You haven’t said anything about this before. You didn’t say anything at lunch when I asked about your meeting with Bernardo.”

  “I’ve got investors writing ten-thousand-dollar checks, but it’s not enough. I need someone willing to put in half a million or more.”

  “What do you suggest we do? I don’t want to touch our savings.” She shifted again in her seat, moving away from him to dispel this uncomfortable news.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Is this about Bernardo’s offer? Are you saying you want to go with Bernardo?”

  “It’s a good offer.”

  “But do you want to go with Bernardo? What about your own company? That was the point of being here, wasn’t it? I’m confused.” She didn’t want to argue, but she didn’t know what to say without sounding irritated. Was this another disappointment, another wrong turn? Another reason to leave this disturbing place?

  They passed a concrete embankment, the result of a controversial dam that was half-finished and still under dispute between Hungary and the neighboring countries of Slovakia and the Czech Republic. The shoreline was not pretty; there were no quaint fishing villages or other sights she expected to see on a river tour.

  “The water is polluted,” she said.

  “It’s not clean.” Will stood up. “Do you want a beer?”

  “Yes.”

  The motion and sound of the water had lulled Leo into a deep sleep. As he lay heavy and limp in the crook of her arm, she felt her misery growing, and her confidence in their decision making draining away. Will’s leaving Fendix had been a risk. She knew that. But was it stupid? Had they thrown their whole life away? Why was Will here? To satisfy an independent, creative streak? Was he really just a suburban cowboy, chasing a Wild West dream? Going for that gold rush feeling? Others were doing it, therefore, so could he? Will Gordon—WG TeleVenture—the name on his business card. She had encouraged him to come here, to strike gold like the newspapers claimed others were doing. Make a pile of money—on his own. He wanted to help a country eager to embrace technology. Months had passed. What did he have to show for it?

  Will handed her a beer. She took a long sip. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry I didn’t say something before. I was waiting for a good time, I guess. We were rushing at lunch. There’s Bernardo’s offer. I’ve got a few investors circling. We have options.”

  “Then let’s not worry about it for the weekend,” she said, touching his arm. “Let’s try to have a good time.”

  In Vienna, they took a cab to their hotel, but she could see they would not be able to let things go. The room Will booked over the phone was supposed to have a king-size bed, but instead the room had twin beds with a night table separating them. A child’s crib was folded up in a corner.

  “Don’t unpack. I’m going to change rooms,” he said, walking out.

  She followed him back down stairs, Leo on her hip, and waited in the lobby as Will spoke to the concierge, a short man with slicked black hair. She guessed the hotel was built in the 1970s. The lobby’s black-and-white interior looked dated.

  “I am sorry. We are full tonight,” the concierge said. He stood behind a counter and riffled through a book of reservations. “There is nothing I can do about it until tomorrow.”

  “I asked for a king bed. I’m not paying for twin beds.”

  “Perhaps we could put the beds together? We will help you do this.” The man spoke English with a British accent. “It is the same as a king bed. We have tried this.”

  It didn’t happen often, but Annie saw a wave of fury tightening Will’s shoulders, his face flushing with anger.

  “Come on. I’ll deal with him later,” Will said to her.

  They went back up to the room. Annie unfolded the crib and began putting her toiletries in the bathroom. Leo toddled at her side, enthralled with the tiny soaps on the sink and miniature bottles of shampoo.

  In the mirror, she saw Will lifting the night table over the bed, pushing the beds together.

  “What are you doing?” Annie said, coming out of the bathroom to watch.

  “I’m moving the beds. I’m not paying money to sleep without my wife in my bed.”

  “It’s j
ust a bed, Will,” Annie said. “Leo, be careful. Daddy is moving the beds.” They watched Will struggling to push the beds together. The platform beds were solid wood and hard to move.

  “Aren’t you being silly about this?” she asked.

  Leo kept trying to walk over to Will. She kept pulling him back.

  “No. I’m not.” After several more tries, he broke into a sweat. He gave one twin bed a final push and stood back to look at the beds wedged against each other. “I’ll call for king-size sheets.” Breathing hard, he lay across the conjoined twin beds and put his hand between the dividing line. “It’s not perfect, but it will do.”

  Leo squirmed in Annie’s arms and pointed to Will. “Up up. Bed. Up.” She handed Leo over to Will.

  “Up you go, bud,” Will said. She saw how the touch of Leo’s body—fleshy and firm—calmed her husband. Will lifted their son onto the bed and watched him crawl across the dividing line, but Leo’s hand slipped into the crevice and got stuck. “Up bed. Up bed.” Will rescued his son, picking him up and bouncing him on his knees. Leo shrieked gleefully, flinging his head backward.

  “Watch him, honey,” Annie said.

  “You don’t need to tell me.”

  He raised Leo high over his head.

  THE NEXT DAY they walked around Vienna’s historic town center, avoiding the topic of money and the poor sleep they both had due to the crack in the middle of the two beds. Leo slept fine in his portable crib, but Annie kept sliding toward the crack then waking up each time she felt herself falling in. To compensate, she kept repositioning herself back on the opposite side of the bed. Will, in order to stay close to her, stretched his leg across the dividing line every time he sensed her moving away. By early morning, the two ended up squeezed together on one twin bed. As a result, Will’s back ached and Annie’s neck hurt.