“The government took her away.”
“Where did they take her?
“That was for the government to decide.”
“So you have no idea where your mom is?”
“No.” Dora wiped away her one tear, whose moist residue had all but dried. Somehow, saying the conclusion to her mom’s story out loud comforted Dora. She realized it was the truth she knew, and lived by, and one she had grown to accept.
“Oh, the fucking government. What a joke it is, isn’t it, Anika? We all go around pretending to be this. I pretend to be that. Did you know that my friend joined the police, and just for their amusement, they find people on the street and beat them!”
“That must be a lie,” Dora crossed her arms gently over one another.
“No, I’m not kidding! They beat these people a lot,” Ferenc said.
Dora didn’t know what to say back. When it came to the government, she always chose her words wisely. Ferenc moved closer to Dora’s face, nearly butting his forehead against hers.
“I know how you feel,” Ferenc tempered his voice to a quiet drawl. “Mine is gone too, gone far away.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“Not a clue.”
“I am sorry.” Dora avoided eye contact with Ferenc. She wasn’t ready to make this an intimate dialogue.
“Oh, please, let’s not talk about those plans. Let’s dance.” Ferenc pulled Dora toward him. He spun her around, stopping only to press his lips to her ear.
“Anika, why do I feel like you understand what I’m saying more than anyone else?”
“I’m not sure,” Dora lied. She felt the connection too, but she also felt the familiar desire to retreat. She feared talking more would activate her past, causing it to twist and spin until it turned into a vortex of pain and confusion she couldn’t escape. Dora didn’t say another word. She continued dancing with Ferenc, finding safety in the mechanical motion of their bodies.
They remained like that for nearly an hour until Marta appeared at Dora’s side to discuss their plans for the rest of the night. Before they came to any conclusions, Ferenc called out names into the abyss of dancing bodies, and like a band of loyal monkeys, random heads perked up at his summons and sprang toward them immediately. Within seconds, a group of five men surrounded them.
“Now this is the party I have been searching for!” Marta flushed, listed, and smiled.
“Let’s get out of here!” Ferenc suggested, playing off Marta’s exuberance.
As they left the bar, Ferenc slipped his hand in Dora’s. It felt like a warm washcloth, damp and textured, yet soothing.
Ferenc’s group of friends somehow procured three bottles of wine, which they slipped out of their coat pockets and passed around in the open air. When the alcohol finally made its way to Marta, she gulped down nearly half the bottle. Dora only allowed herself to drink a sip.
By the time they managed to finish off the wine, they had reached the Danube. The river sprawled before them like a feathery boa. The breeze ruffled its dark and foreboding surface, producing barely audible waves.
Ferenc sprinted to the border and ran alongside the river.
“Oh, fuck this world!” Ferenc shouted into the night, dragging out his words. “Fuck this fucking world and this fucking government.”
“Oh, yeah!” Ferenc’s friend, Andras, joined in. “Fuck the lines at the post office! Fuck the trash that piles up on my doorstep because people are too lazy to fucking pick it up! I’ll slam their heads into the ground!”
Marta giggled, and Dora winced. If someone heard them screaming like this, they would all be thrown in jail.
Ferenc dug into his coat and produced a small radio. He rested it on the ground, extended its antennas and dialed directly to Radio Free Europe. “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’” wafted from the speakers. Ferenc scooped up the radio, cradling it in the crook of his arm, and danced with it. Marta cuddled against Andras, and the other boys started kicking around a ball they found on the street. Dora thought this must be what it was like to feel young—to be fearless, to care only about what was right in front of her, to actually become a moment.
It reminded Dora of how she felt after her first kiss, which she let herself remember for the first time in years. It used to be Dora’s measuring stick for happiness. But when nothing ever added up, Dora tried to forget the kiss ever happened.
It was right before her sixteenth birthday, when Boldiszar surprised her with a trip to Lake Balaton. Dora remembered being so excited, and also nervous to spend so much time with Boldiszar in a situation that involved traveling and sleeping arrangements. They would stay at Boldiszar’s aunt’s house and sleep in separate rooms. Dora wondered what Boldiszar would think when he saw her in a bathing suit, laying on the beach or coming out of the water. She wanted her first kiss to happen so badly, but it also terrified her.
On their last night, Boldiszar insisted on giving Dora a birthday present, even though Dora told him numerous times he didn’t need to get her anything. But, Boldiszar wouldn’t listen. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m not sure how much this is for you as it is for me.” He reached behind Dora’s back and pulled her into him.
Dora froze and stared up at Boldiszar, who gave her the look she fantasized about for so many years—like all he cared about was her. He leaned down and kissed her square on the lips.
“Happy birthday,” Boldiszar whispered.
Dora didn’t know what to do. She never actually expected this to happen. Her dreams of being with Boldiszar, most prominent in the seconds before she fell asleep, always seemed so dull and useless by morning.
“Dora…,” Boldiszar tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know I’m too old to be with you now.”
Dora touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. “Then, why did you do it now?”
“Because, I’m not sure what the future holds for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m involved in something, something big, that I can’t talk about. But I want you to know that you are, and always will be, the person I’ll come back to… when the time is right.”
Just as quickly as Dora felt hope swell inside her, she felt it come crashing down. Dora wondered if the “something big” Boldiszar referred to had to do with the illegal newspaper her mom ran. Given the attention and fury it invoked in Ivan, Dora knew any involvement with the paper would put Boldiszar in danger. Dora hated Eszter in that moment for tainting one of the best experiences of her life. Still, she cradled the memory of that kiss for weeks afterwards, until she came to understand the constant remembrance of something so brilliant—and far greater than anything around her—made the dullness of her life too sharp.
Dora didn’t kiss anyone after that for years. She wondered if tonight she would feel again that small peak of excitement and adrenaline, culminating in a kiss. Ferenc seemed sweet and sincere and, to Dora’s benefit, drunk, which meant little pressure for follow-up.
Dora got up to join Ferenc, who now held the radio as if it was a newborn baby, singing to it in wonder. Before she reached him, however, Dora noticed two shadows growing bigger and bigger, encroaching upon Ferenc’s dance floor. When Dora turned around, she saw two long black sticks. She saw the hands that connected them and the dark jackets encasing the arms. That’s when she realized it was the police. They bypassed her and crept toward Ferenc. His back to them, Ferenc continued serenading the radio.
When the second officer stepped into Dora’s view, she felt tiny needles of fear pinning her down rather than propelling her to action. She could only stare, not move. Everyone else, but Ferenc, had noticed the police too and started backing away.