The Faces of Strangers

by Pia Padukone

  Nico walks down an aisle toward the stage and slides into an empty chair at the end of a row. He clutches the program that an usher has forced between his sweaty fingers, letting his eyes trail over the afternoon’s schedule of events, speeches, awards and more speeches. He tries to remind himself that Hallström is just a silly school program. It wasn’t supposed to be life changing. It wasn’t supposed to matter in the long run. Twelve years ago, Nico had entered the home of a complete stranger and then the Grand family had invited Paavo into theirs. The program was supposed to last a year. Their relationship was supposed to last a year. No more.

  The man on the platform clears his throat, glancing up across the expanse of the room. Nearly all the seats are full, and all the heads turn toward him with rapt attention.

  “Students, administrators, distinguished alumni and honored guests,” he begins. “On behalf of the NEA and the UN, we welcome you to the new Hallström 40th Anniversary Reunion Celebration.” A crack of applause ripples across the room and Nico finds himself leaning forward in his seat to see whether or not Paavo is joining in. He isn’t.

  “I’m Melvin Peabody, the new program director of the new Hallström. At its height in the 1970s,” Melvin continues, “the Hallström Student Exchange Program for Understanding Relations across the Cold War Divide was one of the most sought-after, competitive programs of its kind. Gaining entry within its hallowed halls meant guaranteed admission to some of our member countries’ premiere academic institutions. If the revered Herman Hallström vouched for you—” here, he nods his head in reverence toward the first row of seats “—your future was sealed in gold, opening doors to the likes of Princeton, Oxford, the Sorbonne. The Hallström Student Exchange Program for Understanding Relations across the Cold War Divide opened doors for students, but it also forged invaluable relationships between the young people of estranged countries, cementing lifelong friendships, establishing business relations, and perhaps even a romance or two?”

  The room titters. Nico watches Sabine lean her head against Paavo’s own. “The Hallström program has historically chosen the best and the brightest for the program, watching its students go on to glory. We boast four Nobel Laureates, two Pulitzer Prize winners, seven heads of state, far too many statespeople to count, and two Tony winners.” Melvin pauses to wait out the applause. “And now that a new partnership has been formed, between the National Endowment for the Arts, the United Nations and Hallström, we intend to uphold that reputation. Our goal is to build upon the existing program that fosters relations between countries, but to enhance it by simultaneously ensuring that the arts, those much-neglected pillars in today’s education, are given a priority within the cross-cultural dialogue.”

  Nico and Paavo were exactly the type of students for which Hallström had originally been founded, those tenacious, curious ambassadors of goodwill; young, agile minds that would help to rebuild the bridges that had fallen and broken down between countries; students who were in it for the experience, rather than what they could glean from it.

  “While the program will continue to uphold the tenets that the original Hallström program put into place, in addition to visiting embassies and dignitaries, students will also visit museums, artists’ studios and cultural centers. And we have worked to open these opportunities to South and Latin America as well as western parts of Africa, though while I must caveat that these programs are still in pilot testing, we will have two students joining us from Mali in the new school year.” Melvin shifts his papers and peers down at the front row once again. “We would be remiss not to mention a few people without whom we wouldn’t be sitting here today. Barbara Rothenberg, program director for Hallström for twenty-nine years.” Barbara lifts her head and smiles tightly toward the stage. “And of course, our very own Herman Hallström.” The old man remains in his seat but lifts his cane in the air to the sound of raucous applause.

  Nico opens the program again. There are two more hours before they will break for lunch. He feels the weight of the past twelve years begin to settle upon his shoulders, as though he has put on a heavy coat. Right now, time is a welcome factor. Time will help him compose himself and prep to face Paavo and answer for all that has happened.

  * * *

  Before the ink dried finalizing the sale of the Hallström program to the National Endowment for the Arts and the Understanding of Neighbor Nations, aged Herman Hallström stipulated that the original countries be included in the merger, and had succeeded in adding Ukraine. However, he has lost the battle over retaining Russia, as world relations with the federation have become strained and thorny when Russia neatly overtook Crimea in an effort to protect its Russian-speaking population from the ill treatment of the rest of Ukraine. It is a surreal time in the world; it feels as if Russia has been skulking in its hemisphere of the world, gaining back its strength, adding muscle, putting on weight and is staring down some of the underdogs from the former Soviet Union, pitching for a fight.

  In fact, Estonia is rumored to be the next target; with its large ethnic Russian minority, Russia is adamant that language should not be used in Estonia to segregate and isolate groups. The border town of Narva has been getting antsy and divisive and Nico has called Leo to ask after his parents.

  “They’re tough birds,” Leo said on the phone, sounding nonplussed. “It is all nonsense. Putin is too big for his pants. He wants to begin a new cold war. We’ve been going back and forth on this language debate for nearly two decades now. Now Russia will save the day for all us Russian-speaking Estonians? I know better than this. I studied long and hard to be taken seriously in my own country. I live here, and will continue to live here. I refuse to be bullied by that crazy Kremlin man.” Leo went on to tell him that his Russian allegiance was softening, that he spoke only Estonian at home now, that he had sold his Lada for a new Volvo.

  Herman Hallström has maintained that while Russia is being a bit of a bully, there is no better time to strengthen the bonds between the youth of the respective countries, to bolster ties that have been weakened in the past few months. But the board has remained rigid and he has been outvoted. Russia will no longer be an active participant in the Hallström program. There will be no more exchanges between the United States and St. Petersburg. There will be no more Pyotrs.

  Nico can see Pyotr now in the very first row, leaning forward, his forearms on his thighs, looking down at the ground as though he is concentrating very hard or completely zoning out. His girth seems unchanged, and when he turns his head, his perpetual sneer appears to have gone slack. He seems softened somehow, as though the years have melted the bullish resolve within. Nico sees Anika, Tomas and Malaysia, but there is no sign of Evan. He remembers how soft he’d been, how he’d shaken when Barbara had ripped his book into two equal parts at their first orientation, how Nico had worried about how Evan would fare during those few months in St. Petersburg with only Pyotr as his guide. Nico scoffs softly and shakes his head. That was years ago. They have all come miles since then. He isn’t even sure that Evan remembered it, wherever he was. Did that year matter as much to any of the others? Did Hallström imprint upon the lives of the other students as it has upon him and his family?

  Everyone has served a purpose, taking on their specific role during the one-year program, and some of them even beyond. Paavo has been Nora’s navigator, helping her chart her future by helping her turn a cognitive disorder into her destiny. He has encouraged her to approach situations with a new understanding after the accident. Prosopagnosia or not, he helped her recognize herself and her capability. He had helped her identify her abilities, helped her see beyond what that tiny little slip of damaged brain tissue could never undo to build a strong, successful woman who might never have existed without him.

  Nico had been Paavo’s protector during that year of high school. While he’d wanted to shield Paavo from the threat of a mob of bullies, Nico can’t deny that he had encourage
d him during wrestling practice out of pure guilt. So he’d amped up his bodyguard role and welcomed Paavo into the fold, helping him learn some holds, while building up his upper body strength and his confidence for when he returned home. It was on the football pitch in Kadriorg the summer after he returned from New York that Paavo made the acquaintance of Jaak Alver and Riki Part, the two founders of CallMe, and together they had discussed their visions of creating a future that narrowed the world through internet-based communication, bringing them all to the forefront of the technological revolution in Estonia. It had likely given him the courage to act with Sabine. It had pinioned his doubts and allowed him to soar.

  Nico had been Mari’s solace on a very low and lonely day, a day that Mari could never remove from the recesses of her memory because there was proof of its occurrence. But on that day, she had needed Nico more than she had ever known.

  But where does that leave Nico? After that traumatic phone call from Mason Landry divulging that a scandal was hovering over Nico’s potential election to Mayor of the City of New York, the scandal that he’d fathered a child and never supported her or her mother, the news had spread like the plague that gossip was. It had made its way into polling booths, onto webpages, text messages. He’d lost the election. Not by much, but numbers don’t matter when one loses. Nico has since slunk from the spotlight, taking the time to lick his wounds and salvage what is left of his dignity. He has made the obligatory—and difficult—call to Leo and Vera, who have known for some years now that Nico was the one who had fathered Mari’s daughter. In fact, when he visited Estonia and found only the parents in the house in Kadriorg, they had assumed he had come looking for her. They had been far too nice to him on the phone, assuring him that it was okay that he hadn’t known. He’d been so young, after all.

  But that was just it, he’d argued. He had been complicit in an act that had resulted in a child, a child he hasn’t known about for most of his adult life. His daughter is a thousand miles away and he hasn’t met her. Over those days, Nico learned—mostly through Nora—that Mari has raised his daughter single-handedly, shaping her into a self-sufficient young girl who speaks fluent English, Russian, French and Estonian, while simultaneously nurturing her own burgeoning modeling career.

  Instead of acceptance and empowerment all those years ago, he now learns that what he should have felt was shame. What he should have felt was shock. He should have claimed responsibility. But Vera and Leo haven’t mentioned a thing about legality, about requirements or expectations. They have told him what they know about Mari and her life with Claudia. They have spoken of Claudia’s aptitude for languages, about her zeal for travel, how she is on her third passport after the first two have been filled with stamps. They have told him about Mari’s commitment to her little girl and how driven she had become when she learned she had to support two. But they haven’t asked him for a thing since the truth has come out. They told him what they knew. But if he wants more, he will have to speak to Mari.

  Once the fervor of the scandal had died down, Nico found that he still couldn’t reach out to her. Each time he picked up the phone to dial the number, or tried to type out an email, his muscles and joints felt frozen, like a car stalling on a busy highway. On many levels, he felt as he had all those years ago after he’d returned to New York after the first semester of Hallström, when he’d written and deleted countless emails to Mari.

  Mari, I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry we didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.

  Dear Mari—there has to be something that people say in situations like these. Do you know what it is? If so, please tell me.

  He couldn’t imagine what he might say to her now, how futile whatever words he might choose would sound when he said them out loud. Instead, he has tried to pick up the pieces of his own broken life. Chastened, he has reached out to clients he had written for on the side while he’d been working for the senator, and has picked up some freelance jobs along the way. His reputation and talent preceded him. His client roster is strong enough for him to start his own communications agency, the Mighty Pen. He isn’t the star he once was, but he is slowly rising.

  He tries now to focus on the keynote speaker, a current student who is reading an essay aloud. It is a piece that she has written for her acceptance into the program, and the new Barbara Rothenberg, a small, perky woman with a matching bouncing blond bob, introduced it as one of the most groundbreaking essays she has ever received during her short tenure as program director.

  “It’s not enough to learn about these things in books, or watch movies. Most of the time, those aren’t even true to how cultures go. Most of the time, we aren’t getting a true sense of people, their hearts, their souls,” the student reads, beaming as though she has created the program herself. Nico remembers Barbara ripping the cultural book in two pieces on the first morning of Hallström orientation. He can hardly believe that happened, and yet, it is arguably the most important thing that could have happened. It forced him to not take Paavo or anyone else in the program for granted, to not just read a book and regurgitate it back. It has forced him to get to know Paavo for who he is, and to understand that he is a person and not just simply a representative from Estonia, that his family, as strange and cold as they once had been, weren’t secretive and suspicious nor were they KGB spies. It had forced Leo to understand Nico for who he was as they bonded over an esoteric language that even stubborn-as-nails Leo would champion one day.

  Quakes have succeeded in shifting plates so that the geology of the earth will never look the same again. Tornadoes have blown through towns, decimating them to dust. Yet these two families have somehow survived, holding on steadily through the storms, gripping pieces of driftwood in order to stay afloat. But they may not have to drift forever. Because that morning, as Nico had deliberated in the foyer of his SoHo apartment, he knew he couldn’t even consider facing Paavo at the 40th Hallström Reunion without taking some responsibility. He’d tossed his keys onto the table by the door, pushed his shoes off one after the other—a habit he’d acquired after those few months with the Sokolovs in Tallinn—and sat down at his laptop. This missive was not something to compose while in transit or on a tiny device where the letters appeared shrunken and insignificant. This was a plea, a bridge and an extension, each abashedly long overdue. He wrote as though he’d known what he wanted to say all along, letting his fingers guide the way. He wrote two missives. He sent one and printed the other.

  And then what? There was no chance in hell that they’d be one big happy family. He is sure he doesn’t want that, and she certainly doesn’t appear to, either, not after the years of independence she has insisted upon. Perhaps he can apply for that job at the Estonian embassy. Maybe he can even take the Mighty Pen to the Baltic, offering his services to politicians, celebrities, maybe even models. There are so many opportunities to consider. Because the one he knows he wants is to be part of Claudia’s life somehow. Once he meets her, he knows there will be no turning back, and he prays that Mari will be open to it.

  Sabine is shifting in her seat, turning her head, looking bored. Nico catches her eye and she smiles at him, shaking her head softly, though he can’t tell if the look is for showing up late to the reunion or for all he has not done over the years. He smiles back and points to the hallway, signaling that they will connect after the speeches.

  Nico opens his phone to check his email again, but it remains empty.

  He thinks of his parents in their sprawling apartment and how fiercely they love him. He thinks of Ivy and everything they have put themselves through in order to accomplish so little. He thinks of the look on her face as he finally had to put the phone down that Election Day and tell her the truth. How she stood up and walked out of the room, didn’t return his calls for a week, and then finally agreed to meet him at a coffee shop to officially end their relationship. He thinks of Mari and that December afternoon, the light sprinkli
ng in through the shades, the urgent way she had pulled at his collar and the resigned look she had on her sleeping face as he left the room and clicked the door shut behind him. He thinks of Paavo—a riddle-obsessed teenager who spent years shrinking into himself after being taunted and haunted by a group of insignificant lowlifes. He has changed the world. He has scored the prettiest girl in the program. He has overcome. There is so much that Nico wants to say to him, but there is more that he wants left unsaid. He wants the girl’s keynote speech to go on forever; he wants her to have written pages and pages, flipping them over and over like a never-ending wedding toast.

  But the girl wraps up, and as the applause continues like a waterfall, Nico rises and walks into the hall. He, too, has a speech prepared. It sits folded in his pocket, ready for its audience of just one. He stands with his back to the wall, a tide of Hallström alumni teeming around him, and feels for the paper nestled against his leg. He starts to second-guess himself, as he does before every speech is sent off to every client. Could he have phrased it in a more eloquent manner? Has he chosen the right words to say what he truly means? Does he have what it takes to approach Paavo in the first place?