I felt the uncertainty of the moment flood over my insides. Eszter twisted her hair, and I wondered what could be circulating through her brain at that instance in time.
“How is it, exactly, you received Uncle Lanci’s letter?”
“It appeared in my pocket.”
“Ahhh,” Eszter said in a trouble-burdening tone. “So… it was not delivered to you by way of the posta?”
“No, it was not.”
I do wonder how you got me the letter, Uncle Lanci. There are mysteries you hold that I cannot begin to unfold because I have to focus on my main, supreme task of finding my mom. But, one day when I go to Munich, I envision sitting down with you and laughing about all of this because the explanations turned to be more simple than I could ever envision.
Eszter became silent, but physicality speaking, manic. She forced her way around the capsule, prancing to and fro. A wildness sprung forth from her that I can’t capture precisionly. It felt morbid, like she would sacrifice anything to achieve an end (but what end that is, I do not know). I infuriated with Eszter more than I ever experienced before.
“Stay calm,” I forced a whisper to Eszter. “Someone might hear you.”
But, Uncle Lanci, she really could not heed a bat even if it flew by her and made the decision to suddenly open its mouth and speak. I heard Andras dragging his boots around above me at a high loudness. I wondered if he was trying to warn me about something.
“Okay!” Eszter suddenly screamed at the pinnacle of her lungs.
I thought at that moment my location would most certain be divulged to the guards and I would summarily be vanquished back to these cells again. I launched backward in the vent, hating myself and hating her more for the situation she placed upon me. Why did I assume she maintained a level of sanity in this place?
She froze in her places, her hands by her side, and she made a clear of her throat. I predicted she would scream forth again and I just froze too to make a brace for myself.
“I can tell you how to interpret the radio,” she said.
I evolved to be very quiet. Did she just say she would be assistance to me? Did Eszter come away from her craze to reach forth to me? I centimetered on my belly very close to the vent. My attention was one hundred percent on Eszter in that moment. I would not have even cared for the guards if they came about us.
In the most clear voice I have heard her maintain in my entire existence, she uttered to me, “I’m sorry, I seem to be inhabiting outer space to you. I have been in here too long and the attention you don on me is powerful to my ego. I will help you, I promise, but please allow for the interruptions of my spirit as I divulge in you the secrets of how you will accomplish your goal.”
At that concurrence, I desired to hoist Eszter up and impart on her the most chief of hugs I could. She was aware and she was human. To harbor ill feelings toward her at this juncture would be to defy my sense of forgiveness.
“I would like a radio too.”
“You request me to bring forth a radio to you? You will get caught.”
“I will not.”
“You will,” I said. “Can you proceed to don on me the code first?”
“If you bring forth me a radio, I will don you the code soon,” Eszter said. “The important thing is that you learn from me what to do.”
“Fine.” I cannot explain why I said that because it would put Eszter in trouble and if she was caught, my whole plan would be ruined.
She got a petite smile atop her face. “Do you trust me?”
What a confusing question. I wanted to say a mighty no, but I could not disturb the fragileness of Eszter. “Yes,” was all I uttered.
“You make lies!” she yelled. She started spinning in cycles, and as she spun she repeated, “You make lies!”
How can I keep up with Eszter? She will be an adult and then a child. She will be present around me, and within seconds will retreat to another realm that I am not in the slightest familiar with, as if she sees an oasis, knows it, has tasted its water, but gets lost anyway in the bareful desert.
I vigorously lunged toward the shovel of my words to dig, dig, dig myself out of the hole. “Trusting you one hundred percent will take time for me, but I will backtrack toward you and learn from you again.”
I left her there. I knew if I said more she would turn on me again. As my final foot disappeared up the vent I averted my head toward Eszter. She assembled herself back into her bed as if she was any typical person preparing for slumber. I let myself think those thoughts, and then, in a second, I instantaneously realized how dangerous they were.
I possess awareness that Eszter’s brain does not coincide with our world, Uncle Lanci, but I also must ask you why she harbors minimal trust toward you. I wouldn’t be a one hundred percent man if I didn’t confront you on this topic. Are you helping me in earnestly? Or is Eszter in the correct to be weary with you? For now I will trust you (and that is a real feeling). I will do as you say and make returns to Eszter, but I persevere an explanation from you on this matter. In plus, I have now made an agreement to bring forth Eszter with me, so I do hope there is an added space on this envoy for her!
My brain is swimming in fear and possibilities, but I won’t drown because I have been swimming my entire life. I will brave the unstable tides and get to the place I determined, where I can make a life for Adrienne, and maybe for me.
So, please, receive my letter. I’m delivering it to your Varga secretary tomorrow. I’ll be made aware of you receiving it if you just play “If I Had a Hammer.” If I had a hammer, I would hammer out all the danger too.
Sincerely,
Mike a Korvinközből
Desire is fuelled by all, but fulfillment. —Ernő Osvát
DORA TURJÁN
February 18, 1965
DORA HADN’T PLANNED on kissing Ferenc, let alone ever talking to him again. She hadn’t planned on breaking her agreement with herself, or with Joszef, to maintain her professionalism, no matter what. She hadn’t planned on any of that. But the second she slipped the forged letter into Ferenc’s pocket, her connection to his cause—and her mom’s—solidified. She had officially entered their world, making it impossible to turn back or observe from afar. She now lived, breathed, and walked inside the realm of subversion that shaped—no, contorted—so much of her life.
Dora ran her fingers along her lips, as if they could somehow absorb the remnants of her kiss with Ferenc and give her another chance to feel it. She wanted so badly to kiss him again, and again. She hadn’t felt that excited about anything since Boldiszar kissed her. She hated that whenever she fell for someone, something always stood in her way. Dora’s narrative of love was not a narrative at all, but simply a series of all-too-quiet, yet distinct conclusions. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she didn’t believe in love, though she still searched for someone who could prove her wrong. She wanted to find someone who could love a person with consistency and endurance. Yet, time and time again, she saw the reverse.
Dora sat at her favorite perch in the cemetery, indulging in her memories of Ferenc, until they ran head-on into thoughts of Eszter. She imagined her mom in one of the nameless graves before her. It would be Eszter’s name, instead of Boldiszar’s, Dora would search for at the Bureau of Missing Persons. And through pursed, dry lips, some government employee would tell Dora that he had failed to locate records for an Eszter Turján.
The gate behind Dora let out a shrill squeal, and Dora turned to see a heavyset man in a tattered coat fumbling with the latch. He had with him a shovel, and after prying the gate open, lumbered into the graveyard as though, at any moment, he would be the one needing to be buried.