“What is your name?” Ferenc asked.
Craving to hear him speak more and rationalizing it as a ripe intelligence-gathering opportunity, Dora conceded. “Anika.”
Ferenc’s mouth shot open, stretching his entire face into a look of shock. “Anika! That’s right. Of course. What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Who cares. What happened to you after the police came? I’m sorry I was caught up… I couldn’t help…. They took me to jail.”
Dora didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to talk about the incident with the police, fearful of where that may lead. Instead, she purposefully dropped the book in her hands, hoping it would give her an excuse to pick it up, and leave.
Ferenc beat her to it, stooping to the ground to meet Dora. “You’re reading a book on the Russian monarchy? That is completely ridiculous!” He leaned into Dora’s forehead and whispered, “Anika, it’s all bullshit, you know.”
Ferenc winked at Dora, who felt a lightness swirl inside of her.
“I have to go.” Dora shot up.
“Wait. Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m not, I’m sorry.” Dora hadn’t eaten since yesterday, her stomach too unsettled in the morning to permit her breakfast lately. Today she couldn’t get down lunch either. Dora prepared to excuse herself when she noticed how pale Ferenc looked.
“Are you okay?” Dora reached for his arm, helping him up.
“I’m sorry. I’m just… tired.”
“You need to eat.” Dora wanted to help him, and she knew she could justify it to Joszef—if something happened to Ferenc, they wouldn’t have anything to show for her work. She led Ferenc outside and bought him some chocolate and water. Dora watched as he regained the color in his cheeks.
“You know, I have been thinking about you.” Ferenc peeled back the wrapper on his second bar of chocolate. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
Dora felt hopeful for a moment. It made her nostalgic. She used to feel it all the time as a child, especially when she was with Boldiszar. Dora took a deep breath and refocused herself. She could not allow her feelings for Ferenc to build. He was a work assignment.
“Well, it looks like you’re feeling better.” Dora stood up. “I really should go now.”
“Wait! I just really need help with one more thing…,” Ferenc looked up, his eyes seeming much more focused now.
“What?”
“You have to listen….”
“Listen to what?”
“Shhhhhhh… just listen.” Ferenc grinned and looked at his watch.
Seconds later, a chorus of pianos burst from the building across from them. With tremendous force, the music careened out the windows, smashing into passersby who, struck and stunned, stopped dead in their tracks. Dora paused too—there had to be at least ten pianos in there playing at the same time, perfectly synced with one another.
“Right on time.” Ferenc smiled.
“How did you…?”
“I know the rhythms of this city.”
Dora felt a bubble of laughter try to make its way out and, before she could send it back down, she was laughing. She could picture Mike a Korvinközből pulling this ostentatious stunt. Dora was almost certain she remembered him mentioning this very move in one of his letters. They had been sitting across from Liszt Ferenc Academy, one of the most prestigious music schools in the city, and Ferenc knew exactly when the students practiced. He got lucky that today they chose such a bold Bartók composition.
“You know, Anika, there is nothing better than music,” Ferenc sighed. “But every day it becomes more impossible to reach the beauty in our lives that these musicians create. It’s as if they are taunting us.”
Dora didn’t know what to say—if she acknowledged the truth in his words, she would be creating an emotional connection with Ferenc. She couldn’t allow that. Yet, she couldn’t seem to completely ignore Ferenc either. As she watched his eyes search for some form of validation, Dora felt something click shut inside of her. Ferenc wanted much more than Dora would ever be able to give, even if she wasn’t pretending to be Anika. Even if she was just herself. He would want to have these deep conversations, just as he did at the bar and in his letters to Uncle Lanci. It wasn’t in Dora’s nature to engage at that level. She didn’t spend her time peeling back the layers of humanity and examining them closely. She never learned how, nor was it something Ivan raised her to value. And though Dora already promised herself she wouldn’t risk her career for Ferenc, she felt even more attached to that conviction now.
“I’m sorry,” Dora sighed. “This time, I really have to go.”
She turned around and left Ferenc before she could see his face fall. She felt it though, just as she felt her emotions assembling back into order, like soldiers falling in line at the command of their captain and, ultimately, state.
Over the next few days, Dora immersed herself in her mission to follow Ferenc. After enough time practically living his life, she nearly forgot about her own. Neglecting even her friendship with Marta or her visits to the cemetery, Dora found herself getting hungry when Ferenc did, tired when Ferenc felt fatigued, and highly focused when he was sharp, quick-moving, and determined to complete a task. She had gotten so far into Ferenc’s head that she could anticipate his next move. If he looked agitated at work, she knew he would walk the long way home, to blow off steam. On a good day, he would stop at the store and buy something for Adrienne.
Dora listened more and more to Radio Free Europe by default, too. She witnessed the moments when The Beatles or The Temptations gave Ferenc a certain buoyancy. Under their spell, he would pay the biggest compliments to women, speak the loudest about his future, and work the quickest on his cars.
It was in those moments, Dora understood why rock ‘n’ roll scared people like Joszef and her dad so much. Radio Free Europe didn’t defy the government. Rather, it existed beyond the government. Hungary was the last thing on people’s minds when they listened to rock ‘n’ roll. They forgot about the identities forced on them by the regime. For a few minutes at a time, they were free—weightless and nationless.
Ferenc hadn’t mailed any letters yet. She assumed it took him a few days to write his detailed letters, but she needed something soon. At her check-ins with Joszef, he badgered her for a letter or any indication that Ferenc was exhibiting suspicious behavior. Dora discussed Ferenc’s daily habit of listening to Radio Free Europe and that he frequented the bars that played rock music, though she knew that wouldn’t satisfy Joszef. She considered telling him about Ferenc’s fantasy of going to Germany, but she decided to avoid sharing that information. It precluded her current mission, and if Joszef worked hard to determine when those plans surfaced, he would learn Dora withheld information from him, or worse, that she stole from him.
Finally, one night just as she readied herself to walk away from her post, she saw Ferenc turn in an unfamiliar direction. She maintained a steady distance from him, but his footsteps were so far away and so soft that the sound of Dora’s own heartbeat overpowered them. She couldn’t tell if he stopped, or started, but she made sure to keep her eye on him. Tracing his path, Dora came upon the post office miles from Ferenc’s apartment. An expansive window spanned its façade—the perfect lens to watch Ferenc commit the hoped-for deed.
Squatting behind a car and allowing it to cover most of her body, Dora observed Ferenc hand a letter to the employee behind the counter and hurry from the door. This time, she didn’t follow him. Waiting until he disappeared, Dora rushed in and presented her badge.
It only took her a minute to find Ferenc’s letter on top of the pile labeled “outgoing.” Dora’s heart beat frantically, shaking her hands and rattling its way to her conscience. She felt almost manic. She hoped Ferenc’s letter would exonerate both of them, finally and officially. Maybe jail had hardened Ferenc against his dreams to flee Hungary and find his mom. Dora carefully placed the letter into her pocket, making sure the incongruities in her coat’s stitching didn’t disturb its descent. She walked to a covered bench nearby.