by Jodie Toohey
The war is getting worse. Stevo and Marija are still living with us but Stevo is living entirely in our basement. There have been rumors of military police searching houses to find men who ignored their calls to fight so Stevo has been talking about trying to escape away from Yugoslavia. But they do not have anywhere to go and Marija does not want to go where she doesn’t know anyone while she is pregnant. For the same reason, Tata has not been home for a visit in weeks. He is in Italy legally so he cannot be forced to come back but he is afraid if he does come back, the army will capture him and drag him off to fight. I saw on news a peace conference was held in The Hague in the Netherlands. What a joke that is! Less than a week after the so-called peace conference, thirteen Serb prisoners were killed on a bridge between Korana and Karlovac which is in Croatia’s narrowest point that is not bordered by water, a little over halfway from Rijeka to Zagreb. The news said the JNA (Yugoslav Army) is trying to divide Croatia at this same point in order to defeat Croat army. I do not care if we are in Yugoslavia or Croatia. I just want this war to end so I can go visit my grandparents.
We have had two practice drills so we know what to do in case bombing starts in Rijeka. An alarm sounds and we walk one behind each other to a bomb shelter. It is dark and small so I hope we never have to use it for real.
Please write back soon!
Your friend,
Nada
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The weeks leading up to the dance ticked by. I tried to keep busy by spending time with Andy or Krissa, and living as normal of a teenager life as I could. Mom insisted that Aunt Shari come with us to buy my dress. She said it would do Aunt Shari good to get out of the house. She couldn’t have been more wrong. At first, Aunt Shari was cheerful, helping me pick out dresses to try on. As I tried on each one, Aunt Shari’s smile faded. Mom went out to find a version of a pink dress in the correct size rather than the wrong one we brought in. I looked in the mirror wearing the same dress in the seventh shade of blue. I saw Aunt Shari behind me in the mirror.
“You look beautiful,” she said, but I could see tears glossed over her eyes. She tried to smile through it, but couldn’t. I turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry, Ami,” she said, and buried her head in her hands. I didn’t know what to do.
“Mom!” I called into the store.
“What is it?” she said. She tossed an armload of dresses down on a chair in the corner. I pointed toward Aunt Shari.
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Shari said again. “I guess I’m just not ready yet.”
“That’s okay. Ami and I can come back tomorrow. Isn’t that right?”
“Sure. Let’s go home,” I said.
When I got home, Grandma, who was babysitting Forti and Prio, said Krissa called. She had an extra babysitting job and asked if I wanted it. I should’ve remembered the dress store with Aunt Shari and said, “No,” but I didn’t. The Masterson’s kids were Forti and Prio’s ages so I thought it would be different enough. It wasn’t.
The Masterson’s saying goodbye reminded me of how Emily would hug and kiss each of her parents twice before they left. Scooping Carry’s and Jimmy’s ice cream for their bed time snack reminded me of feeding Cheerios to Emily.
I tucked Carry and then Jimmy into bed. I turned on the TV. Soon I heard giggling behind the wall. I peeked around the corner and saw them crouched down, their mouths tucked into the tops of their pajamas, giggling. I started to cry.
They were stunned. Their hands dropped to their sides and they stared at me.
“We’re sorry,” Jimmy said.
“Please don’t tell Mommy and Daddy,” Carry said.
I waved them to the living room and patted the couch cushions. They climbed up as my tears came harder. I tried to wipe them away and compose myself so I could talk.
Carry said, “We were just trying to have fun. We didn’t mean to be naughty.”
“We not naughty,” Jimmy echoed.
“No, you weren’t naughty. It is just that you reminded me of something that makes me very sad.”
I turned the TV to the Disney Channel and let them stay up. When they fell asleep, I allowed the tears to come back, crying as quietly as I could.
*****
October 20, 1991
Dear Nada,
How are you? The bomb shelter drills sound spooky. I remember when I was littler we would have air-raid-siren drills. We have sirens that go off when we have a severe thunderstorm or tornado and during the air-raid drills, they would make a different swooping sound. All of the kids in class had to take a book, crouch under their desks, and put the books over their heads. The tornado drills were basically the same but we had to crouch and put the books over our heads in the hallways. We haven’t had the air-raid-siren drills for a few years; I guess since Gorbechev “tore down that wall,” the school doesn’t think we need them anymore. With what is happening in your country, I’m not so sure I’d be as trusting as I was back then.
It is six o’clock on Sunday morning here and I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about the dance last night. And Andy. I cannot believe a boy like Andy actually likes me and wants to spend time with me. Maybe guardian angels are real. Maybe Emily is my guardian angel and has brought me Andy. I will tell you about it here in detail. We only live about a half mile from my school so Andy and I walked there. He picked me up at 6:30; the sun had just set so the sky was mostly dark blue with a sliver of orange on the west horizon, like candlelight. He came in the house, I gave him his boutonniere flower, and my mom pinned it to his sweater (dark green with tan pants – very handsome).
He said, “Was I supposed to get you a flower?”
I didn’t know what to say but my mom saved me. “Sometimes boys will get girls a wrist corsage for dances but it’s not required,” she said.
“I didn’t know.” Andy looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry.” The poor boy looked devastated.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.” My mom took our picture in front of the staircase while Forti and Prio made kissing noises in the kitchen. They had been doing it all day so my mom told them they had to go into the kitchen and wait when Andy picked me up, but now that Andy was there, they knew she wouldn’t yell at them.
Andy held my hand all the way to the dance. We were mostly quiet. I wanted to ask him about living in California; whether it was as warm all year as they say it is, whether he surfs, or whether he has a palm tree in his backyard. I wanted to ask about his parents, about their mission work, his friends, and whether he had any cousins or aunts or uncles. But I didn’t. I really wanted to and I would finally decide what I was going to say in my head, but then I couldn’t make my mouth move to speak. Once I made a squeaking sound. He looked at me but I coughed. Then we got to the dance and it was too late.
The gym at school was decorated with shades of red, yellow-orange, and brown leaves; they had paper trees mounted on the wall with the limbs arched over the dance floor with the leaves hanging down. I could hardly imagine playing basketball in gym class in the same space just the day before. We had our picture taken in front of a giant poster that looked like a lane lined with trees with yellow leaves.
A DJ played cassettes and CDs. I danced the fast dances with Krissa and some other girls from school while the boys watched from the tables set up on both sides of the dance floor. After every two or three fast songs, they played slow songs and all the boys would come out to the dance floor to find their dates or others girls to ask to dance. I clasped my hands behind Andy’s neck, he put his hands on each side of my hips, and we turned around in circles. The first time, my heart was beating so fast I had trouble breathing, but then I got more comfortable. By the third dance, I rested my cheek on Andy’s shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt like I was on a merry-go-round. About halfway through the dance, Krissa, Craig, another friend of Krissa’s, her date, Andy, and I took a break from dancing to drink some punch.
Out of nowhere, Andy said, “I want to show you something.”
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Andy took my cup of punch from my hand and set it down on the table. He laced his fingers through mine and led me across the dance floor behind where the DJ was set up. On a wall behind the DJ were stapled artificial flowers my mom later told me were mums with the names of everyone who was at the dance written on a piece of paper and attached to the flowers. Andy picked the flower with our names by it from the wall and put it in my hand. A slow song started to play. He didn’t say anything but just gently pulled me to the dance floor and we started dancing. This time, he put his hands all the way around my waist. I held onto the flower for the rest of the night and I put it in my keepsake box when I got home so I have it forever. I have mementos of everything important to me in my keepsake box, including the pajamas Emily was wearing the last time I saw her alive and the teddy bear I made her in sewing class last year that Aunt Shari gave me after Emily died. Anyway, back to my story. This is a happy story so I don’t want to make myself sad by thinking about Emily.
So except when I had to use the restroom or put on my jacket when we left, the flower stayed in my one hand and my other hand stayed in Andy’s hand. After what seemed like five minutes had passed, it was nine o’clock already and the dance was over. We walked back to my house much slower than we had walked to the dance and Andy talked more. He told me about his friends in California; I tried to commit their names to memory. I missed a couple of the names and wanted to ask him, but again, I couldn’t. We walked up toward the front step of my house; Andy stopped just beyond the reach of the porch light. He faced me and stared straight into my eyes. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he kicked the pebbles on the sidewalk and then he looked back up at me without fully lifting his head. I looked back at him and thought, Kiss me! Kiss me! Finally, he leaned down and kissed me. I know Mate has kissed you so you know how it feels, but I want to write down every detail so I can remember it always. His top lip went between my lips and my bottom lip between his; he kind of gently sucked my bottom lip in and I did the same with his. We stayed like this for about one second then moved apart a fraction of an inch and did it again. Then I did the craziest thing – I started to cry!
“Was it that bad?”
“No.” I wiped tears from my eyes. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. No one has ever kissed me like that before. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and then he hugged me really tight. He walked me to my front door and kissed me quickly one more time before leaving. When he got to the sidewalk by the road, he turned around and waved to me.
I want to remember every moment of last night. I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. Luckily, I am making a copy of what I am writing in this letter so I have it forever.
I needed the dance last night. A week ago on October 12th, Emily would have turned two years old. My mom, Forti, and Prio spent the day at Aunt Shari’s house. Uncle Matt went out with his friends to drink beer and watch college football on TV. My mom wanted me to go because she said it would help Aunt Shari to be around people who loved Emily, but I talked her into letting me stay at home. I don’t like to see Aunt Shari. I still love her, but when I see her, I think Emily should be there with her but she isn’t, and it just reminds me she’s gone. Maybe that’s why Uncle Matt goes out so much. I bought a bottle of soda at the convenience store and then sat on the pier while I drank it and wrote a letter to Emily. I dried out the bottle as much as I could after it was empty, rolled up the letter, and stuck it inside. I capped the bottle and threw it into the river. I cried as I watched it wash away. Then I came back home and, except for when I saw Andy, I felt sad all week. Now I am starting to feel sad again so I will end this letter and think about the dance more.
I hope everything is okay where you are. Write back soon!
Your friend,
Ami
*****
I wrote to Nada what I wanted to remember and didn’t mention what I wanted to forget. When I got in the door after the dance that night, the lights were on but the house was silent.
“Mom?” I said. Nothing. I yelled, “Mom!?” My stomach turned sick.
“I’m up here, Ami.” It sounded like my mom but the voice was different; muffled. I went upstairs.
“Mom? Where are you?”
“In my bedroom.” The door was open a few inches and orange light streamed into the dark hallway. I pushed it open.
“How was the dance?” She went into her bathroom, turning her robed back to me. She came back out wiping her face with a wet washcloth. “Is it after nine already?”
I pointed to the red digits on her alarm clock. “It’s almost 9:30.”
“I was just washing my face. I guess I lost track of time.” Her eyes were red and puffy around the outside. “So how was the dance? Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah.” Then I remembered the quiet and before ten on Saturday night. I gasped slightly. “Are Forti and Prior in bed already?”
“No. Your dad called and asked if they could come spend the night. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t think you would mind them going without you. Your dad said he could take you out for lunch tomorrow if you felt left out.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
My mom sat down on the edge of her bed and patted the space next to her. I sat down. She rubbed my back. “Tell me about the dance.”
I described the decorations and showed her the flower Andy picked off the wall for me.
“How sweet. I hope you didn’t make him feel too bad about forgetting to get you a flower.”
“No. I told him again it was okay and he gave me this one so he made up for it.” Tears began to collect again so I quickly changed the subject, “What did you do tonight?”
She told me she went to visit Aunt Shari for a little while. “Uncle Matt went out with his friends and Aunt Shari was having a bad night so I took a pizza and a bottle of wine over to share with her.” I was going to confront my mom about her crying, but then her tears suddenly made sense. She lost a niece when Emily died but she had to be strong for her sister who lost a daughter. I decided to leave her to her tears and hugged her.
“I’m tired. I think I’m going to go to bed.”
“Ami?” I turned in the doorway and looked back. She wiped her eye with the wash cloth. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Goodnight.”
A few minutes after I lay down in bed, I heard the TV turn on downstairs. I turned my attention to replaying my night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
28 October 1991
Dear Ami,
Your night with Andy at your dance sounds so magical and romantic. I am so happy your plan to get a boyfriend is working.
The war has still, thankfully, not moved into Rijeka but it is getting worse in the rest of Croatia. Some of the army has actually left this area to concentrate on other parts of Croatia. I lie awake at night waiting but, somehow, I have become used to it. My dad has not been home in weeks. Marija’s belly is getting bigger and that makes me happy. Mostly, my life is still same: school, chores, and talking with Stevo and Marija about the baby. Nobody talks about religion or the war. Earlier in month a couple of dozen Serbs, just regular people, not army, were killed in Gospic which is southwest of Rijeka about 120 kilometers. In Zagreb, now Croatia’s capital city, which is only a little farther away at 130 kilometers and northeast of Rijeka along the main highway, they killed a whole family of Serbs, including the twelve-year-old daughter. At night, sometimes I have nightmares they come into my house. They knock on door with their fists and pound upstairs to my bed. I try to plead with them, tell them I am only fourteen, my sister is only twelve, and Marija is going to have a baby but they just laugh. They do not care about age or anything else. All they care about is Maja and I are Serbs in “their” Croatia. Then I tell them Marija is not Serb but she is Roman Catholic. They say she is living with Serbs and married to a Serb so that does not matter either. Every time, just as I see the flash of red from the end of some of
their guns reflecting off the knife blades of the others, I jump up in bed, sweat dripping into my eyes even though it is the end of October and not hot outside anymore.
Dubrovnik seems to be getting the worst of the attacks. The city is down on the Dalmatian coast where Croatia is narrowest. You can’t even get to Dubrovnik only by land without passing right by Bosnia and Herzegovina so maybe that is why. It is cut off and they can get at it easily. I heard that shelling destroyed Dubrovnik’s 500 year old arboretum. On television, they show bombed out Dubrovnik with people unable to go to their homes, living without water, electricity, or telephones.
Do you hear anything about this war on your television? At first it seemed like America was mad at Croatia for declaring its independence from Yugoslavia and was taking sides with Serbia to keep the country together. Now it seems like America is blaming the Serbs for the war. How do you feel about it? Does it even matter to you? I feel like we all got along before, Serbs, Croats, Muslims, and everyone else and I don’t understand why it matters now. My friends are my friends.
Tonight when I am trying to go to sleep I will think about you and Andy. I will imagine myself at your dance with you, Andy, and Mate, and maybe I won’t have any nightmares.
Please write back.
Your friend,
Nada
*****
On Halloween, I wanted to hide. I had already told Andy I planned to block out the world during trick-or-treat by screaming music through my headphones. Emily would’ve been two years old and the perfect age to trick-or-treat; old enough to understand the fun of getting candy, but young enough to be adorable and excited. Last year, Emily had started to roar; out of nowhere she would yell “Raahr!” It could’ve been while watching TV or at the checkout lady at the grocery store. I suggested to Aunt Shari that Emily should be a lion next year for Halloween so Aunt Shari bought a lion costume with fake muscles and a stuffed tail on clearance to save. I couldn’t stand to watch other little kids going door to door for their treats, so I didn’t want to take Forti and Prio out. The thought of people bringing little kids to my door to ask for candy when my Emily was gone made me inexplicably angry. So when my mom asked me if I wanted to take Forti and Prio trick-or-treating or if I wanted to stay home and hand out candy, I told her I wanted to skip Halloween. She sighed but didn’t say any more about it.