Dark Dreams (4 page)

Chapter 5

T
he Bratislava of that long-past day had not been unkind to the young, just indifferent. Certainly the Slovaks had taken care of their children under communism, then under the new government after the communists fell. Things were harder, but parents managed to feed their children and keep them clothed, if not stylishly dressed; and if the clothes were second-hand, they were at least carefully patched. But there were no places for children to play among the gray soot-stained buildings of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; or to run free between the drab edifices built during the not-so-glorious reign of the Bolsheviks, structures which were decaying even faster than the older ones around them. So, like kids everywhere, they made do, carving playgrounds out of garbage-littered lots, dashing after a soccer ball through moldering back streets, making do amid the stoops of dreary, half-empty structures. Or they whiled away the afternoons when school was over by talking with a best friend.

Jana and Sofia had been best friends since they had met at school and found out that they both disliked their teacher, a man named Adolphus. It had been easy to dislike him. He found ways, in every class, almost on an hourly basis, to praise the current government for its commitment to warm relations with Russia and to disdain the West. Unfortunately for him, since everyone knew he was of German, not Slovak, descent, he was axiomatically, uniformly distrusted.

Today Jana’s mother was visiting Jana’s sick grandmother, and Sofia’s mother was working in her small hat shop, so the two youngsters had been free to walk through the streets holding hands and to settle down on the front steps of a closed cinema that still displayed posters of the last film it had shown over a year ago. Sofia was holding forth on the subject of boys, which still didn’t interest Jana much, but which was irresistible to Sofia.

“I like them looking at me,” proclaimed Sofia, smoothing a stray lock of hair. “Then I like to ignore them, or sneer at them. Then they get mad.”

“Why do you want to make them mad?”

“’Cause I noticed that they come back and stare even harder.” She snickered. “Then they bring you a present or something. Just to interest you. Most of the time I ignore that too.”

“Why do you care?” snapped Jana, a little irritated. “They’re not supposed to give you presents. And you’re not supposed to take them.”

Sofia shrugged off Jana’s criticism, turning her nose up, assuming a haughty attitude. “They’re not worth much, so I throw them back.” They had both seen that done in a movie they’d gone to. The heroine of the film was a good girl, and everyone believed she had done the right thing, so Jana nodded her approval.

They chatted away for another few moments until Sofia noticed a black government-licensed Zil limousine pass by. She smiled at the man who looked out from behind the partially open curtain of the back-seat window. The car slowed.

Jana slapped at Sofia’s knee in disapproval, her voice taking on an edge. “Stop smiling. The man is ugly, and his thoughts are uglier.”

Sofia’s smile lost a bit of sparkle. “He’s respectable. He has a big car. And it’s a Zil. He must be a high official if he has a Zil instead of one of those ugly, noisy Tatras.”

“Government officials are never respectable, particularly the older ones. Everyone knows that.”

The curtain in the back seat dropped as the car picked up speed.

Sofia watched the limousine move away, making a small moue of regret. She hadn’t had her chance to really flirt and to enjoy the results, which was the whole point of flirting.

“Who says they’re not respectable?” she asked.

“My father, sometimes, and he’s a judge so he should know. He says they steal, and other things.”

“What other things?” a suddenly pugnacious Sofia demanded, her jaw jutting, a little angry at being reproached for exercising her newly found skill.

“You know.” Jana’s voice took on more assurance. “They don’t want me to hear so they drop their voices. Or my mother tells my father to be quiet.”

“She’s brave to do that.”

“Why?”

“He’s a judge.”

“They’re married,” explained Jana. “She’s louder than he is.”

The two of them nodded, both understanding that louder was better.

“Marrieds always argue.”

“No, they don’t.”

Jana tried to think of one pair of married neighbors who seemed happy. There were two, both sisters married to a pair of brothers.

“The Slavins.”

“They’re not Slovak.”

“Yes, they are.”

“They are also brothers who married two neighbor sisters. That’s different.”

“I fight with my brother.”

“They’re also Jews. Jews keep it quiet.”

“How can you keep an argument quiet?”

“That’s what Jews do. My uncle says they have secrets they only tell other Jews.”

“What does that have to do with them arguing?”

“That’s the reason you don’t hear them arguing.”

The Zil drove slowly down the block again, crawling as it neared the two girls. Sofia smiled, giving the occupant of the car a little wave. When Jana grabbed Sofia’s hand, Sofia pulled away.

The sedan stopped at the curb directly in front of them.

Jana was uneasy, embarrassed and upset. She edged away from Sofia, trying to ignore the car, pretending it was not there. But after a few seconds Jana couldn’t help herself and she sneaked a glance at the car. The back-seat window curtain was pulled back completely this time, and a man’s face was pressed against the glass. His lips were slightly parted, the yellow-green color of his teeth showing; his teeth seemed to fit badly in his mouth. His eyes caught the light through the window. Their color was like wet ashes, devoid of even a tinge of human warmth.

The man beckoned to Sofia, and Sofia, seemingly oblivious to what Jana observed, walked over to the door as it opened. A hand came from within, holding out a map to Sofia as if he were going to ask directions. Sofia focused on the map.

Instinct told Jana it was all wrong. Why would the passenger of a limousine ask directions, rather than the driver? And what government driver didn’t know every part of Bratislava by heart? Warning signals flashed in Jana’s mind. Sofia was in danger!

Jana broke into a run, lunging forward, screaming at her friend to come back.

Too late.

The man grabbed Sofia, pulling her into the car. The door closed behind her with a thud just as Jana reached it. The man glanced at Jana through the window as the curtain dropped. The Zil drove off, Jana running after it, trying to keep up, screaming for help, screaming at the car, screaming at the sky in frustration as the vehicle picked up speed. Frantic now, Jana tried to find a weapon, anything to use against the fortress of a car that seemed impregnable to her.

Jana finally scooped up a stone from the side of the road, stopped for a fraction of a second to get set, and threw the rock with force. The stone bounced off the rear window of the car, leaving a small star-shaped crack in the glass.

The car accelerated, reached the intersection and turned, out of Jana’s sight. Jana ran harder, desperate to save Sofia. When she got to the intersection, the car was no longer in view.

Panting from exertion and shock, Jana looked from road to alley and back, trying to decide which way to go. She scanned the street frantically, looking for someone to assist her, some pedestrian to ask for direction or advice. A store owner was rearranging a display of fruit in front of his shop, sprinkling the older fruit and vegetables with water to make them shiny and fresh-looking. Jana ran over to him.

“A black car; a black Zil,” Jana panted. “It passed by here. Which street did it take?” The man shrugged, indifferent, returning to his work without a moment’s thought. A woman came out of another store. Jana darted over to her. “Did you see it? The black government car. It was just here.”

“What?” The woman’s eyes shifted from side to side as if she were being accused of something. “I saw nothing. Nothing!” She scurried away, afraid to be associated with an event, no matter how trivial, which might involve her with the government. No one in Slovakia wanted to be involved in anything that might attract the attention of the bureaucracy.

Jana screamed with grief and frustration. The fruit dealer quickly walked inside his shop, closing the door behind him with finality. The woman scuttled down the street, her shoes rapidly click-clacking on the cement of the sidewalk as she put distance between herself and the young girl who was going to get them all in trouble. Jana forced herself to become calmer. She needed to think, to use her eyes more effectively. Her eyes swept the street and the alleys intently. At the head of one stood a puddle of water. Immediately behind the puddle were tire tracks, fresh tracks, still damp. It had to be the Zil.

Jana ran down the alley, and kept on running over to the next street. Then arbitrarily, because she had no other leads, she ran through the nameless maze of corridors that made up that section of Bratislava, scouring the alleys trying to search. One street radiated into another. She forced herself to keep on until she was exhausted, and still she kept going.

She did not find the car.

An hour and a half later, she found Sofia.

She was at another street corner, sitting on a curb, feet in the gutter, her clothes disheveled, her hair hanging down, looking like just another Gypsy child to the people who passed by without really looking at her, without realizing that she was in distress. Maybe they didn’t want to notice. Jana hesitated, wondering what to do, how to act. She finally settled down on the curb next to Sofia, murmuring “hello.” Sofia continued to stare vacantly at the ground without acknowledging Jana.

After five minutes of silence, Jana moved closer, just close enough to angle her body so she could look out of the corners of her eyes at Sofia. There was a small scratch on Sofia’s nose, running almost parallel to the tracks tears were leaving on her cheeks. Her blouse was torn on the side closest to Jana; the blouse itself was buttoned askew. When Jana faced Sofia, she saw that one of her friend’s shoes was missing, that blood stained Sofia’s once-white sock. A very thin trail of blood ran up the length of Sofia’s calf, up to a smudge of blood half revealed on her thigh, the rest concealed by her skirt.

Jana thought it over.

Even a twelve-year-old girl in Bratislava knew enough about men and women to be aware of what these signs indicated. The mothers of Slovakia, where so many girls become pregnant before they marry young, told their daughters the facts of life early and frequently in the hope that they would be able to avoid the worst. Sofia had listened, but not heard. Jana had been more receptive.

They sat quietly for another half hour. Eventually, Jana put her arm around her friend. Sofia, still silent, leaned on Jana’s shoulder. Then, judging the time was right, Jana attempted to straighten her friend’s blouse.

“I want to clean up,” Sofia whispered.

“I know,” Jana whispered back.

“I can’t go home this way.”

“We can go to my house,” Jana assured her, kissing her on the ear. “My parents aren’t home.”

Sofia nodded.

“Now, let’s go.” Jana urged Sofia to her feet, supporting her to make sure she did not fall, then smoothed her friend’s hair into a semblance of order.

“Thank you,” whispered Sofia. “I’m a mess. Everything is a mess, just a big mess.”

“I’m your friend. As long as we’re friends it will be okay. We’re friends for life, right, Sofia?”

Sofia nodded.

“That’s a good thing for both of us to remember.”

Sofia nodded again. She held up what looked like the handle from the inside of a door. “I grabbed it trying to get out. It broke off in my hand. I hit him with it.”

“You did the right thing.” Jana’s heart went out to her friend. She managed to hold her tears back. “I’m proud of you, Sofia.”

They began to walk. Sofia was stiff, moaning softly from pain as she moved. Jana put her arm around her friend’s waist, trying to ease her distress.

“Friends for life,” Sofia got out.

“Yes,” said Jana. “Forever.”

They reached Jana’s house twenty-five minutes later. Immediately, Jana drew a hot bath for Sofia, helped her into the water and watched her friend try to recover from her ordeal. Sofia sat in the bath until the water was cold. Then Jana helped a dispirited Sofia dry herself, at the same time supporting her to make sure she didn’t fall. She walked Sofia into her own bedroom and found a fresh pair of panties and a clean blouse to take the place of Sofia’s torn ones. After a few minutes, Jana managed to comb Sofia’s hair, then made arrangements with Sofia’s parents for her to stay with Jana overnight without telling either of their mothers what had happened.

The next day Jana confided in her father. Her father was the only one she trusted enough to ask for advice. He listened carefully until she was finished.

“You acted bravely,” he told her. “She was foolish.”

“What should I do, Father?”

“Sofia hasn’t told anybody?”

“She doesn’t want people to know. It would be horrible for her.”

The judge thought about it. “The man in the Zil had to be a high government official.” He sat quietly for another long moment. “You must do what you think you should. But I believe she’s right to want this to be kept silent.” He leaned closer to Jana trying to convey his thoughts without imposing his will on his daughter and, by influencing Jana, imposing his will on Sofia. “If, in the future, this man were identified, I don’t think it would make any difference. Not under these circumstances. They’d do nothing. The police, the government, would remain deaf. Or worse. And Sofia? Well, I think Sofia wouldn’t fare very well. They’d call her names. They’d make her out to be something terrible, a person of no morals, even a prostitute who deserved what she got. They would heap scorn on her, and on her family. I’ve seen it done before when one of
them
is involved. It’s always the person’s fault, not the official’s.”

Jana considered what her father had tried to convey. Even at the age of twelve, she could comprehend the possible future that her father had outlined. She projected the results of bringing the government into Sofia’s life. Sofia would suffer more. It was a terrible truth, but still the truth.