by Jodie Toohey
I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer vacation and that your war is over soon!
You pen pal friend,
Ami
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Hi, Ami.” Krissa opened the door. “Andy and Craig are already downstairs.” When I stepped off the bottom stair into Krissa’s basement, Andy stood up from where he was sitting on a burlap-covered couch in oranges and yellows.
“Can I take your jacket?” Andy wore a dark blue shirt that buttoned down the front with tan pants.
“Sure.” I took off my jacket, handed it to Andy, and he hung it on a hook on the wall near the bottom of the stairs.
Andy sat down on the end of the couch. “Do you want to sit down?” he asked. I sat on the edge of the middle cushion with my hands sandwiched between my knees.
“My mom said she would order us pizza,” Krissa said. “What kind do you like?”
“Anything is fine,” I said. Andy said, “I like anchovies.”
“Except anchovies,” I said, scrunching up my nose. Andy laughed.
I looked into his eyes and smiled. My heart thumped in my chest.
“I guess I’m outnumbered,” Andy said. Krissa’s and Craig’s noses were scrunched as well. While Krissa went to order the pizza, Andy asked me about my family, their names, ages, and my parents’ jobs. Krissa came back and sat on the arm of Craig’s recliner.
“So, Andy, where exactly are your parents in Central America?” Craig asked.
“Guatemala.” Thankfully Krissa and Craig asked Andy all of the requisite questions about his house, living in California, the rest of his family, and what he liked to do at home, so all I had to do was listen and try to remember everything he said. When the pizza arrived, Craig and Krissa moved to sit on bar stools and eat at the bar in the basement, leaving Andy and me to eat alone, sitting on the couch using the coffee table to hold our pizza. We ate in silence. When I was done, I sat back onto the couch. Andy did the same. Krissa and Craig were deep in a whispered conversation.
“So you have a mom, a dad, a brother, and a sister. You like to listen to music and read. What else do you like to do?” Andy pulled his leg up onto the couch and faced me more squarely.
“That pretty much covers it.”
“That’s it? What did you do all summer?”
“Just listened to music, read, and I walked a lot.”
“Where did you walk?”
“Just around town mostly. I walked to the pier into the river by the library.”
“Do you have any other family close by? Grandparents, aunts, uncles?”
“My grandparents live about forty-five minutes away. My Aunt Shari and Uncle Matt live close by, but we don’t see them as much as we did before.”
“Do you have any cousins?”
“Yeah, I...”
“Are they your age?”
“Younger, but...”
“What are their names?”
“Her name was Emily; she was a year old.”
“I bet she is cute. Maybe I can meet her sometime?”
I felt a knot begin to form in my throat. “Emily died last March.”
“I am so sorry.” Andy smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Here I am going on and on. I’m such an idiot.”
I looked up into his eyes and could tell he felt really bad. “That’s okay.”
“I guess I’m a little nervous. I’m sorry.” I held my breath to keep from crying and just shook my head. Andy took my hand in his. “Maybe you can tell me more about it sometime?”
“Maybe,” I said.
Krissa swung around on her barstool. “What kind of party is this?” She slapped her hand onto the top of the bar and jumped down. “Should we play a game or watch a movie?”
We agreed on Trivial Pursuit. Andy and I played on a team and easily won the game. My heart fluttered every time Andy whispered what he thought the answer should be into my ear. Krissa put the game away and I sat back on the couch next to Andy. My right side was pressed next to his entire left side. I heard Andy talking, but I couldn’t make out the words through my heart pounding in my ears.
“Ami, your mom is here for you,” Krissa’s mother yelled down the basement stairs.
“I’ll be right there.” The neon-bordered clock on the wall said 10:00. Of course my mother is right on time, as usual, I thought. I stood up from the couch and faced Andy. He rose quickly and knocked me over.
“Whoa!” he said, grabbing my upper arms. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I looked up into his eyes and waited. Andy leaned toward me then stepped to the side.
“I’ll get your jacket.” He held it out to me and I tried to thrust my arms smoothly into the dangling sleeves.
“I’d better go,” I said.
“I had fun,” said Andy.
I shook my head in agreement. “Me, too.” Then my breath stuck in my throat and I couldn’t turn around. I stood there frozen for what felt like an eternity. Andy smiled at me.
Finally, Krissa said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I turned around, ran up the stairs, and out the front door.
“Don’t you have something to say to Krissa’s mom?”
I stepped back into the house. “Sorry. Thank you for having me.”
“Well, thank you for coming, Ami; it was so nice to see you again.”
I waved and went to sit in the car. My mom and Krissa’s mom talked for a few more minutes.
“Did you have a nice time?” my mom asked. “What did you do?”
“Just had pizza and played Trivial Pursuit.”
“Was it fun?”
My mom told me about her night; she and Aunt Shari watched Dances with Wolves on the VCR, and ate popcorn and fudge. When we were almost home she said, “I should’ve came in to meet your new friend. What was his name?”
“Andy.”
“Maybe he can come over to our house some time.”
The house of doom? I thought, but just said, “Okay.”
I spent the next week writing about every detail of my night in a letter I’d send to Nada after I received her next letter. It finally arrived on the 16th.
*****
10 September 1991
Dear Ami,
I got your letter in the mail today. Happy Birthday!
We have secrets in our house now. I need to tell someone. Tata’s cousin, Stevo, came to live with us last week with his wife, Marija. Stevo is a Serb from Mostar in Bosnia and Marija is Roman Catholic. Mostar is in southern Bosnia about twenty or thirty miles from border with Croatia’s southernmost tip, the Dalmatian coast. Marija is pregnant so they came to live with us so Stevo wouldn’t be drafted. Marija can go out because she is Roman Catholic but nobody can know Stevo is here. He has to hide in our house. If he was to go out and someone would ask for his identification, he could be taken away or killed. We have to keep our curtains closed so neighbors won’t see him inside of our house. We like Marija and do not care she is not Catholic Orthodox. Marija does not care that we are not Roman Catholic. It is unfair our neighbors should care and hate us. They are not in our family and they are not in our house. What should it matter to them who is living with us? It makes me so angry sometimes but not so angry I want to hurt them. Even if they are angry, I don’t understand how they could be so angry they would do something to take Stevo away from his wife and child.
Perhaps our neighbors only believe what they hear on television. Please do not believe everything you hear on television, especially if your news reports are like news reports here. The only thing they talk about is how Serbs are killing Croats. But Croats are killing Serbs, too. The news talks about Serb soldiers killing people, burning them, and raping women but they don’t tell about Croatian army burning down churches with Serbs locked inside. We hear these stories. They don’t care if Serb is against them or a soldier. They put any Serbs they can find, young and old, into the church, lock the doors, and burn it down.
Now, in addition to not being able to look at the
mail until after our parents look through it, we are also not allowed to answer telephone. We are beginning to get threatening telephone calls along with the letters. I can tell when it is one of those calls because Mama’s face turns white, she hangs up abruptly, and smiles like someone dialed a wrong number. I know these are people calling to tell us to leave our home or be killed because my few Catholic Orthodox friends have told me they received same calls. I considered telling Mama and Tata I know about the threats but they seem comforted by believing Maja and I do not know what is happening. They worry about so much already. I do not want them to have to worry about my feelings along with everything else. I am sure you understand. I will be okay as long as I have a good friend like you to share my secrets.
Even though I felt bad for Stevo and Marija to have to run away from their home, I am happy they are staying with us. Mama, Maja, and I are going to help them get ready for their baby. It is due in February. They didn’t have anything for the baby when they left Bosnia and wouldn’t have had space in their car to bring it with them if they had. As soon as Mama returned from work after they arrived in the middle of the afternoon, she dug out her old sewing patterns from when Maja and I were babies. While Stevo set up a bed and their space in the basement, we girls picked patterns to use to make Stevo and Marija baby clothes. We are planning to go to fabric store on Saturday to get the cloth. Mama says Maja and I can help pin the tissue patterns to fabric, trace them with a wheel and carbon paper, and then cut out the pieces for her and Marija to sew. It will be fun to have something else to do besides go to school, ride bikes, and try not to watch the news.
I am anxious for school to start on Monday so I can see my friends and Mate. I miss Mate. He has not come to visit me much since his parents forbid him from spending time with me. He told me his parents still like me and my family. The problem is they are afraid if their Croat neighbors see them associating with a Serb, they will turn against them. At school, I think I can forget about the war. Though we pretend it isn’t, the war is always with me. Even as I ride my bike and pretend to be carefree, my breath is always tense wondering if someone will jump from the bushes to taunt me like they did to Milana. At home, even when we have been happily pinning patterns to fabric and sewing to make baby clothes, guessing about if the baby will look more like Stevo or Marija, it is heavy over us. Even when the television and radio are turned off. Every noise makes an invisible jump in our skins because we fear they are coming to get us. We freeze when phone rings and remain still without so much as taking a breath until we can tell from Mama’s voice it is not another threat call.
This evening, we cleaned the kitchen after dinner and started our baby clothes project like we had yesterday. Stevo sat at kitchen table finishing his tea and thinking. He said he was thinking about what he will do and where they can go when the baby is born. He will need a job to take care of it and hopes the war will be over by then because he could not make much money hiding out in our house. Mama and Tata told him not to worry. They said Stevo, Marija, and the baby could stay and they would provide for them as long as necessary. But Stevo said it gave him something to occupy his mind all during the long hours at home.
Maja had just made sure the edges of the folded green fabric lined up precisely and I was inserting a straight pin to secure the pajama leg pattern piece to it when we heard a knock at door. Our curtains were open a few inches to let in some fresh late summer air so Stevo could have seen down to front door, but he was so deep in thought, he didn’t. I flinched and stuck my left index finger with needle. A dot of blood began to grow but I didn’t wipe it away. I just stared at it. I was frozen, hoping it would not drip onto fabric.
“Stevo,” Marija hissed. Stevo didn’t hear her. “Stevo!”
Stevo shuttered back to present and looked at Marija.
“Someone’s at the door,” Marija whispered.
As casually as he could, Stevo pushed the chair under table and left for the basement.
“Just a minute.” I could tell Mama was feigning cheer. She acted like she had fresh baked chocolate chip cookies she had to remove from the oven before answering. She smoothed her hair and opened the door just enough she could see who had knocked.
“Yes?”
The narrow door opening muffled the visitor but I heard, “My name is,” and immediately stuck the tip of my finger in my mouth to remove the blood. I took a deep breath. It hurt in middle of my back because I had been so tense and still trying to keep blood from ruining the baby’s new pajamas. I figured someone coming to kill us or drive us from our home wouldn’t announce his name, so I relaxed.
Mama opened the door wider, “Come in.”
The visitor was a Jehovah’s Witness. Later, I heard Mama whisper to Marija she let him in house so in case he was a spy, he would see we have nothing to hide. Stevo now says he will not leave the basement. He says after helping to cook dinner, Marija can bring him a plate of food for him to eat down there.
Did you get to see Andy last weekend? What did you do for your birthday? I am happy you seem happier. I hope your plan is working and you are getting closer to making Andy your boyfriend.
Your friend,
Nada
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
September 17, 1991
Dear Nada,
I remember when my aunt was pregnant with Emily. It was so exciting and so much fun to get ready for it to be born. Is the baby kicking yet? It feels funny to put your hand on the outside of the belly and feel the baby kicking your hand. If Stevo and Marija still need to stay at your house when the baby is born, you will love holding it. My advice? Make sure you take advantage of every moment because in a moment, the baby could be gone, just like Emily.
My plan for making Andy my boyfriend is progressing. Two weekends ago, we had a double date with Krissa and her boyfriend. We talked and sat side by side on the couch while we played Trivial Pursuit. (It is a game. Do you have it there?) Last Saturday at 1:00 p.m., Andy came over to my house and we went for a walk to the park. About halfway there, Andy’s hand kept bumping mine as we were walking on the sidewalk. I thought, I am so clumsy, then, on one bump, he grabbed my hand. My heart was beating so fast I thought my voice must have been shaking but Andy didn’t seem to notice. At the park, we sat on a bench by the playground and watched the little kids play. That made me a little sad because I started to think about Emily. She would have been two next month and would be the age of a lot of the little kids climbing up the playground stairs and giggling while they slid down the slides. Then, something great happened. We sat there quiet watching the kids and then all of a sudden Andy took my left hand in both of his.
Andy said, “Are you okay, Ami?”
“Yes.” I looked at him and smiled.
“What are you thinking?”
“Just watching the kids,” I said.
Andy squeezed my hand in his, “I want to talk to you about something.” For a second, I was worried, but his eyes were so warm I knew he wasn’t going to say anything to hurt me.
“Okay.”
“I was wondering if you would be my date for the homecoming dance.”
I said, “Yes,” of course. And I almost had my first kiss – I think. Andy held my hand all the way home. We didn’t talk much. I was too busy enjoying my hand in his.
When we got to my house, he took both of my hands and faced me. He said, “Thank you for walking with me.” He started to lean toward me but my heart was beating so hard I thought I was going to vomit so I turned my head away.
The homecoming dance is a little over one month away on October 19th and I can’t wait. My mom called my dad; he said he would pay for a new dress, so my mom and I are going to go shopping one Saturday soon to find one. I’m thinking I will get a pink or a blue one. I will send you a picture!
I hope everything is okay with you. How is school? Please write me back when you can.
Your friend,
Ami
*****
25 September 199
1
Dear Ami,
Last Monday, 16 September, was my first day of the grade eight. Maja and I said goodbye to Stevo and Marija, put our backpacks on, closed the door, and started walking toward school. We wore our best jeans and nicest shirts. We agreed it would be fun to see our friends but a pain to do homework and study again, but when we got almost to school, my mood changed. I couldn’t explain to myself why. It was just suddenly apparent our feelings the new school year would be especially good were misguided. Our friends smiled and waved to us as they always did but something felt different. I did not know how or why.
When bell rang, Maja went to her first class. My classmates and I filed into ours. A pile of cream colored folders were stacked on top of the teacher’s desk. He stood in front of the rows of desks. He told us to line up single file to side of desk. He fanned the folders out, asked the first student in line her name, and then plucked the folder with her name typed on the tab, and opened the cover. Based on some information unknown to me in the folder, Mr. Jovanović assigned her a desk. He had a sloppy drawn grid where he wrote her name in the square corresponding to desk he’d just assigned in the front right corner. I was next in line. Mr. Jovanović took my name, pointed me to a desk in the back row, wrote my name in the corresponding box in his grid, and then opened my folder to confirm what he apparently already knew. One by one, Mr. Jovanović assigned desks to each person in line. When all of the desks in front three rows were filled, he asked remaining kids in line their names and looked in their folders without assigning them a desk. He rearranged the desks so only four remained in the furthest back row. When everyone had taken their seats, I noticed the other three students in the class I knew to be Catholic Orthodox were the only students left in back row.
Everything is different now. Everyone, even people who were not my friends, were always nice and friendly. Now they whisper and stare. Who was Serb or Croat and who was Catholic Orthodox or Roman Catholic used to not matter, but now it seems it is all that matters. In all of my classes, I sit in the back row with just my Catholic Orthodox classmates. My teachers are nice to me even though they put me in back row. Maybe they know I earn A’s and that is saving me. In language class, we spent first half writing an essay about our favorite author or book. We read while the teacher graded our essays. He returned them during the last ten minutes of class. My essay had one or two red marks more than most all of students sitting in the rows in front of me but much less than the students in my own back row.