Yet Dora’s mind, so tired of lying to her, kept her standing in the snow for another hour. She knew abandoning Eszter now would mean going back to the life she had, and now hated. It was one of indifference and perpetual waiting. It was marked by routine, both in her movements and in her feelings. She strove for nothing she truly cared about, and in turn, became successful at perpetuating the life she didn’t want. She already felt more alive than she had in nine years, and she clung to that feeling now, hoping it could somehow warm her up.
When flurries of snow started surrounding her and the wind began nipping at her ears, she decided it was time to go searching for Ferenc and Eszter. She crept out of the alley, studying the streets, nearly empty now. She passed by the abandoned parks and office buildings, then the train station, which looked so much more elegant in the winter, the snow covering its dusty film.
An older man shuffled past her, his face hidden in his scarf. His crystal blue eyes peeked out above the fabric, studying the ground through a web of wrinkles and swollen, windburnt skin. She knew it couldn’t be Ferenc, but a part of her hoped it was anyway, and she observed him until he turned the corner and disappeared. Dora could have sworn she heard The Beatles coming from a window above her, but she doubted anyone would be so daring as to play rock ‘n’ roll so late at night.
She circled back toward the ministry, where she decided she would resume her station until the morning, when she saw a shadowy figure cross the street. She couldn’t make out its exact shape, but it looked like a man. She started off in that direction.
For a moment, she forgot what Ferenc looked like, her nerves starting to override her ability to think clearly. What if she was the one losing it? What if Eszter’s mental illness was genetic and this was her first breakdown? She felt her hands grow lighter, her legs too. It suddenly seemed like they weren’t even part of her body, like she was gliding on the snow or falling down into a deep pit.
“Anika,” she heard someone shout at her. She kept moving forward. “Anika,” the voice said again. It was coming from the mouth of a man. She kept going toward it. She felt so warm all of a sudden. He was hugging her.
“How did you find us?” it said, and when she looked into its eyes she saw Ferenc staring intently back at her, concerned and weary.
“I just kept walking. It’s so cold.” Dora’s voice trembled as she pushed her words through the frigid air.
“I’m so sorry we lost you. The guards, they almost caught us, we had to go out another way.” He kissed Dora’s cheek. “You are freezing, we need to get both of you inside.” Ferenc pointed to a lumpy blanket on the ground in the alley, curled up against the brick wall.
Dora froze and stared at the blanket. It wasn’t moving. It had to be… it could only be…
“Is she okay?” Dora inched closer to the blanket.
“She’s okay for now, but we need to get her on the envoy as soon as possible.”
A snort rattled from the blanket. “Laszzzzzzzlooooo,” she said. “Stop! Stop!”
Dora kneeled down to Eszter’s level, knowing this was it—the moment she had feared for the past nine years, but had nonetheless headed for her with the certain stride of fate. The blanket covered most of her mom’s face. Only her forehead was visible as Eszter rocked herself gently in her cocoon.
“I think she is a little overwhelmed right now.” Ferenc put his arm on Dora’s shoulder. “It’s best to just leave her alone.”
Dora ignored him. She wanted to look into her mom’s eyes. She reached for the blanket. It felt hot. Eszter must have a fever. Or maybe it was Dora’s hands that were cold. Making sure not to make any sudden movements, Dora pulled down the blanket past Eszter’s chin. She lowered her body, until she was lying down on the pavement next to her mom. She closed her eyes and kept them shut until she felt her face align with Eszter’s, her breath on Dora’s nose.
Dora took one last breath. She opened her eyes. At first, Eszter stared past Dora, into the snowdrifts piled on the sidewalk behind them. But as the seconds went by, Eszter’s gaze crept along Dora’s shoulders, to her neck, and finally to her face. When they locked eyes, Eszter froze. A look of bewilderment, bordering on shock, overcame her face.
“It’s me,” Dora whispered. She reached for her mom’s cheek, Eszter’s skin hot on Dora’s palm. The moment felt dangerously palpable to Dora, as if at any time, someone could reach down and swat it away.
“Mom,” Dora resolved.
“My daughter.” Eszter pulled Dora into her.
They hugged, gripping each other tighter and tighter. Eszter started shaking and Dora rubbed her back, her fingers catching on the knobs of Eszter’s spine. She was so frail, Dora feared she might hurt her. She remembered watching Eszter resist the weight of a police officer, nearly bucking him off her back, nine years ago. Now, Eszter struggled beneath the weight of a hug.
“You’re here,” Eszter whispered.
“I am.”
“What is going on?” Ferenc’s voice cracked behind them.
Dora pulled away from Eszter. She wiped the dirt off her coat and stood up to face Ferenc. “I am not Anika. I am Dora Turján, Eszter’s daughter.”
Ferenc’s eyes swelled. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly and shook his head.
“I only knew halfway through this whole thing you were dealing with my mom. I thought you guys could help each other escape.”
“What? That can’t be true!” Ferenc backed away from them.
“It is true.”
Ferenc looked at her with anger now, lingering extra long on Dora’s eyes. “Why would you lie to me, Anika?”
“It’s Dora.”
“How could you do that?”
Dora explained the entire situation, allowing the truth to strike Ferenc in its consistent yet painful rhythm. As Dora spoke, Ferenc’s eyes grew watery. He coughed and kept extending his neck. Dora didn’t know if he was trying to make himself seem taller or just push back the tears amassing in his throat. It was probably both.
“I can’t believe it. You’re a liar. You used me.” Ferenc looked from Dora, to Eszter, then back again.
“Please, I did this for her and you. Those letters from Uncle Lanci, those were from me… so that you could keep going.”
“What?” Ferenc’s voice grew louder. “Pretending to be some radio personality so that you could make me risk my life getting her out. How is that any help?”
“I’m sorry.” Dora’s fingers wound nervously around one another. “I wanted to help you escape too.”
“But you did this for her, mostly?”
Dora looked down. She didn’t know what to say. That wasn’t true either. She cared about both of them, one by instinct and the other by choice. She couldn’t imagine the guilt, and anger, she’d feel if either of them didn’t make it out at this point.
“Well, I still need to go to Munich.” Ferenc huffed and kneeled down to Eszter. “You said you knew the meeting place, that you heard the code on the radio. Take me there.”
Dora stared at her mom, who had since retreated into a ball, the blanket fully covering her head.
“Mom,” Dora tapped her mom’s shoulder. “Is it true you figured out the meeting place?”
“Yes,” Eszter’s voice breached the blanket, muffled and phlegm-ridden.
“Tell us where it is.” Ferenc nudged Eszter’s shoulder.