Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train (19 page)

“There have always been protests, isolated, most in that part of the country. We simply don’t know about that,” Alin interjected.

“They didn’t change anything. It’s not enough. We are too afraid of change.” Adi protested.

“Guys, I am telling you, be prepared. The system will collapse. Nothing is permanent,” Traian declared.

“The defeat of our national soccer team is permanent,” Teo said.

We laughed.

Teo was sitting on the floor and eating sun flower seeds. Around him, a circle of sunflower husks was covering in a total mess the carpet.

Traian tried to keep the discussion going. “Enough is enough.”

“Yes, he shouldn’t have started to touch our simple life commodities, like warm running water, electricity. Give me hot water and munchies, and I don’t give a shit,” Teo added.

A girl joined the conversation, agreeing. “I see my parents; they hardly do well. All day long, they’re in the lines.”

We all nodded grimly.

“Something went wrong. He manipulated us perfectly. Maybe he got greedy, but he clearly lost it,” Alin stated emphatically.

“It’s his ego. He needed to build the biggest building in the world after the Pentagon. Like, who the fuck is Romania? Why do you need to have such a huge building?”

“Or maybe he was trying to eliminate the debt. I heard we are debt free. No other country is.” Someone brought that argument up.

Traian waited for his turn and asked: “I just got my hands on a good book. Written by a guy named Pacepa. Have you heard of him?”

One guy jumped in. “Oh yeah, Ceausescu’s right hand. He used to be his best informant, leader of his secret police.”

There was an awkward silence at the mention of the secret police. People shifted uncomfortably in the sand and looked around suspiciously. You could feel the presence of the secret police, invisible, coming between us; the mere idea enough to silence the discussion. Fear that one wrong word would put us in prison came to the forefront. It was always in the background of your thoughts in Romania at that time, shadowing every step we took. Ceausescu knew the importance of those informers. The discussion that took place that night was possible because there was a very low chance that one of those people had infiltrated one of the student groups; they were too old to mix with that crowd. As Romanians, we had developed a sixth sense about these things and survived by playing the odds. Refusing to be silent, gambling when the odds of being caught were low. But still, you never knew at that time who would turn out to be a secret informant.

Alin broke the silence. “So, where is the guy? Abroad?” The mood in the crowd shifted again, and everyone relaxed. The discussion continued.

“In America. He trashed Ceausescu; he exposed all his dirty secrets and how things work. His defection almost destroyed Ceausescu’s intelligence network.” Traian spoke from the certainty of his newly acquired knowledge. “And it affected his credibility and respectability outside the country,” he added.

“Ceausescu lost his best man. That’s not good for him,” the girl exclaimed, impressed.

“What’s the name of the book?” I tried to ask Traian.

Trajan heard me, and replied, “
Red Horizons
.” A must read.  All our propaganda was nonsense: the so-called noninterference in internal affairs of other countries, the road to communism, bullshit, pure demagogy. You know what forced industrialization did? With our obsession to pay the debts?”

“Industry is dead,” several answered back.

“The debt part doesn’t sound so good. We only sold raw materials. In the long run, we were screwed. We didn’t upgrade anything. We have bunch of giants steel mills, refineries. Factories. That means millions of jobs at risk,” Adi said.

Traian agreed: “I am telling you, max one year. The change is closer than we may think and hope. You need more facts? The international context is changing. The Americans, the Pope, and Russia, the three power centers of the world — for the first time in history, they agree on something. Communism must disappear. “

The girl exclaimed, “Finally.”

“You don’t fuck with Americans, boys.” I couldn’t help it.

Vera suddenly spoke up in her unique and outrageous way, having dozed off for a bit. “I could fuck some Americans, damn, I always wanted to.”

“Me, too.” All the girls exclaimed and gave themselves high-fives.

The boys laughed without jealousy. “Traitors. Pfff.”

Traian changed the tone: “You don’t fuck with Gorbi as well. Gorbachev made it clear: we will suffer economic pressures, if we don’t align with his Perestroika.”

I was curious and shifted the conversation back, asking: “Why did they finally agree, Traian?”

“It’s obvious. They need us. We will be their next marketplace for their capitalist merchandise. A true paradise for them: hundreds of millions of potential new consumers, new buyers. And Ceausescu doesn’t have friends anymore, people who he can trust. Pacepa left. He was his right hand; he was living a good life. Not like us, the chaff.I imagine there are a lot of his people who want to escape as well. He is alone now. Alone and exposed. His own people will betray him and start to work on a coup to get rid of him,” Traian concluded, sounded certain.

“I don’t think so,” Adi exclaimed. “We are not united. We’re afraid, and we’re crushed by our lousy life.”

“Maybe you are right. If we don’t believe we can do something, who could?” Traian asked rhetorically. “Maybe the change is already happening. You only need to open your eyes and ears.”

This time, his tone was conspiratorial. I knew it was time to leave. The crowd began to cluster, the night became darker. Too many eyes, too much danger.

I knew Vera wanted to leave as well. I told Alin I may have a sunburn and needed to go home. He asked me if he should come as well. I refused. Feeling smothered, I knew needed space. Vera shifted our conversation and let me know she may be wasted.

I looked at her with a serious face. “I told you, Vera.”

For a moment she didn’t get it. Then, she started to laugh.

I liked her, but I needed to leave. I was afraid she would start to talk about her adventure with Jony. There was no way I was going to discuss that with her, wasted or not.

We hugged and kissed. She said, “You know, I am always here for you, Mona.”

I was surprised she would say something like that. “Me too. Let’s be friends forever. Let’s grow old and lose our hearing and memory and still be friends.”

Vera liked the idea, “I can see us: ‘Hey, Mona, do you remember when we met? It was summertime?’” She was talking in an old woman’s voice.

I followed her example and raised my voice: “Whhaaat? You need some lime?”

We both laughed.

“I love you, Vera.”

“I love you, Mona.”

             
14 August 1989

             
Alin thinks alcohol will help me relax. How can I tell him nothing can help me. I love him and I shouldn’t be afraid to tell him all my secrets. But the discussion of demons had me leery; I feel like I’ve shared too much already.

Age is a state of mind. I’ve always felt old. I was an old child. My father’s drinking, the scandals, the shortcomings marked me as a child and matured me early. I learned how to hide his alcohol, how to keep his drinking friends away from him, and how to save money for bad times. Such skills for a young child to learn – is it any wonder I have demons to keep me company now?

              I learned also, people are assholes. My friends wouldn’t play with me anymore because their parents told them not to. My parents’ scandals were no secret to any of our neighbors. But we were good kids. Pretty normal, given the circumstances. But it seemed we were paying for our parents’ mistakes. When you’re a child and a teenager, everything feels like the end of the world. Emotions are ultimate, and they can shape your mind forever. The day when my friend told me her mother had forbidden her to play with me was the day I wanted to die. I was seven, struggling with so many adult burdens already, I could feel the shame clawing to get out – was this the birth of the first of my demons? The embarrassment I felt was monstrous. My friend liked to play with me, but she had to listen to her mother. When she told me, I was overwhelmed, and I felt I would cry. I had to run home; I didn’t wanted to cry in front of my friend. It felt like an eternity until I climbed the stairs to my apartment. When I got home, I told my mother, crying, what happened. She got mad and ran to our neighbor’s door. She knocked at the door and was yelling before my neighbor opened the door.

              “What kind of person are you to hurt a child? My daughter didn’t do anything. She is innocent, she is a child, for God’s sake!”

              I remember I was crying on the stairs and listening to my mother. I didn’t hear what they said. But I heard my mother crying. In that moment my crying stopped. It was the first time in my life I’d realized my pain was not important. The discussion grew heated, and I heard my mother saying harsh words to my neighbor. She was spitting mad, and her penchant for gossip turned ugly that day.

              “Your husband has a lover. Not a secret anymore. You know it. He is not a drunk, but he is a cheater. Period. Do you think you’re better than me? Who do you think you are, the queen of England? You are a monster. Have you ever thought about your daughter? They like each other, for God’s sake!”

              They never spoke again. My mother was not a diplomatic person, in the best of times, but she turned over a new and ugly leaf that day. She made sure all our neighbors knew about their family, about his affair. It was hard to avoid your neighbors when you were living in an apartment and had to see them all the time in lines. Sometimes, my mother would leave smelly garbage bags in front of her door. After everyone else was asleep, she would take the trash and go down the stairs and leave the garbage at their door. Other times she would sit on the bench and wait until the neighbor came back from work to try to provoke her.

              “Hey, neighbor, where is your husband? I never see him home. He must be sooo busy.” And she would laugh sarcastically.

              My neighbor would try to enter the building in a hurry, avoiding looking at my mother.

              Some days, my mother would ask her, with an angry voice: “Hey, neighbor, why don’t you greet your neighbors? What kind of lady are you, if you don’t know how to behave? Shame on you.”

              The next day, the neighbor would approach the bench and say hello, and my mother would pretend she didn’t hear and ask the others perplexed, “Did that person just dare to talk to me?”

              At home, while we would all gather together, my mother would tell us how she managed to find a new way to torture the neighbor, and she would laugh. “I will make her life a hell.” But it always seemed to me that hell was touching my mother’s life as well - my mother had her demons too.  My neighbor never won against my mother all those years. But I had a feeling my mother didn’t win either.

I walked back to the house by myself, apprehensive of what might be waiting for me there. I unlocked the door and entered the house quietly, wondering if Jony was in his room. The place was dark and silent. I went to the bathroom and fixed my makeup. Part of me knew what I was doing, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I wandered back into the huge living room, slowly passing through on the way to the kitchen. I went to the fridge and got a bottle of beer. Suddenly, light came from Jony’s door. My heart started to beat faster; I felt my face flush. I took a sip of my beer, leaning against the wall in the kitchen, and waited. I went back to the fridge and made more noise on purpose. I knew he’d heard me, and he’d realized I was alone. The light went off in his bedroom. I was both relieved and disappointed.  Overwhelmed by my conflicted feelings, I went back to my bedroom and cried. I threw myself on the bed and felt ashamed.

I must have fallen asleep. I woke up when Alin stumbled into the room and turned on the light. At first, I didn’t know where I was. Alin was drunk; he slurred as he asked. “Where is my silly girl? I missed my girl.” He fell into bed beside me and groped clumsily at my clothes, murmuring silly drunken words of endearment.He was obviously in the mood for sex, but I pushed him away and pretended I was too sleepy. He gave up and rolled over; it didn’t take him long to fall asleep with his clothes half on, snoring. Eventually, I fell back to sleep.

I woke up early because the light was still on; Alin hadn’t moved and was still snoring. He wasn’t going to feel very good when he finally woke up. I was relieved when I remembered it was a rehearsal day, because I felt like I needed some space. For some reason, I wasn’t ready to spend the whole day with Ema or Alin, let alone the whole group. I missed Vera; her spirit was probably what I needed. I got dressed then made my way out to the living room where the usual suspects were starting their day. I grabbed an apple, noting that Jony was there but Ema hadn’t come over. I was relieved, not in the mood to talk to Ema about George T. again.

“When did you guys came back home?” I asked Geta.

“Around five. I was so bored. And tired from the sun. And the whole student scene, the blah, blah, blah. Talk. They all think they’re experts, and they’re only a bunch of drunks. I wanted to go home.”

“Why didn’t you leave earlier then?” Jony asked her, annoyed.

“Jony, I’m going to meet Vera. Tomorrow she’s leaving, so I want to spend the day with her,” I said trying to avoid a confrontation between them.

“Oh, I didn’t know she’s leaving,” Jony said, distracted from browbeating Geta.

“Do you want to come and say good-bye?” I trailed off, waiting for a response from him.

“Oh, no, tell her bye from me.” Jony appeared to want to avoid further discussion about Vera.

“Please tell Alin I will see him later, either at the rehearsal or at the theater,” I said to the room at large. I grabbed my purse, looking forward to spending the day with Vera.

Vera was already awake; she was a morning person. They were waiting for me. I was surprised to see Giovanni still there, since I was sure Vera and Jony had hooked up yesterday. I pulled her aside and asked in a low voice so Giovanni couldn’t hear: “Why is he here? I though he left.”

“Don’t worry, he understands. He is married in Italy, and he has another lover besides his wife. Italians, pff. We’re good.”

“Vera, you’re crazy.” As if I needed more evidence.

“Crazy is the definition boring people give to funny people. Speaking about boring people, the toilet is clogged; they said they will send someone. I am so pissed off.” She rushed to the balcony, and shouted as loud she could, “Why I am surrounded by incompetent people? WHY? Why are the people around me morons?”

I shook my head. You couldn’t help but shrug and smile. I looked over at Giovanni to see his reaction. He looked at me and signaled me not to say anything.

Having vented her frustrations publicly, she closed the balcony door and came into the room like nothing had happened. She grabbed my hand pulled me out of the room to go have breakfast, knowing Giovanni would follow.

We went downstairs and ordered an expensive lunch.

“Giovanni is paying. Order the most expensive stuff they have,” she whispered to me. We chose a table at the terrace, where we could see the beach.

Our waiter was flirting with Vera, and she seemed to enjoy it. I tried to warn Vera, “Maybe Giovanni doesn’t understand Romanian, but he can see you’re flirting.”

Vera laughed and assured me she knows what she is doing.

I tried to break the ice. “Jony said good-bye.”

“Oh, cool.” She leaned over and whispered again, “He was a good fuck.”

I covered my mouth trying to suppress my laugh. “You really like sex, don’t you?” I was simply curious.

“Of course I do.”

Damn, I envy you. I need to be in love to feel something.

She must have read something on my face. “Sex doesn’t have anything to do with love. Or the other way around. Does it, my dear Giovanni?” She raised her voice to him, and he seemed happy she wasn’t ignoring him anymore, although he didn’t understand her question.

“Certamente, of course, my princess.”

“How can you separate them? I mean, I have my lovers as well, you know. I need them, but I don’t like the sex with them. I don’t get in the mood. I don’t get wet, anyway.”

“Girl, if you need lube, he ain’t the dude,” Vera said loudly, facing the waiter, who was trying to remain professional. “Mona, if I’m with a guy, I need to have my orgasm. And if you don’t get it, talk about it. Communication is the key. If you can stick his penis in your mouth, you can talk with him about sex. You’re different. You should make them work, and you don’t let them fall asleep until they satisfy you.”

“What about your other lover? You mentioned something about another lover?” I asked her.

“What about him? He lives in Israel; I am here. Simple,” she said, shrugging.

“You said you love him.”

“Yes.”

“So, does he know? I mean, don’t you feel unfaithful?” I asked hesitantly.

“No. I did, for a day, I guess. I live my life. Why complicate things?”

“Vera, it sounds so simple with you. You may be wiser than some people may think.”

“You mean Ema, your friend. She despises me. I know who I am. I never liked school, never wanted to go to the university. I want to live my life and get maximum fun. And when the right time comes, I’ll get married. I will have children, get fat, and raise my grandchildren. So simple.”

“I like you, Vera.” I sighed. She sounded so together, so sure. On the other hand, her life seemed like a lot to juggle.

“Me too, but Ema is not your friend. I see you admire her, and she will hurt you. I’m telling you!”

I liked she was thinking about protecting me. No one one – especially not another girl – had expressed such concern for my feelings.

“I know we have no real friendship, it’s just, she is in a fucked-up place right now.” I trailed off.

“So what?” she interrupted. “Even if she is distracted by her problems, she should still be there for you. You don’t have a real friendship, Mona.” She leaned toward me to emphasize her words. The words were lighthearted, but she spoke earnestly. “A real friendship should involve sharing secrets, alcohol, shenanigans, and disliking the same people.”

“And questionable morals,” I added, with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course. And sometimes may require some nudity as well.”

“I don’t want to know about that, you slut,” I replied, laughing.

Giovanni seemed suddenly annoyed. He told her something in Italian. She talked back in Italian, and afterward she said in Romanian: “You can’t act hard with me. I know your dick size.”  Then she gave him a passionate kiss and told him, “I love you, mon amore, and I love your dick.” She looked at me. “You see, simple. Don’t complicate life. Give them sex and tell them they have the biggest dick.” She grabbed Giovanni’s arm and my hand, tugging us to our feet. She smiled flirtatiously to the waiter as we left the restaurant. Always one to take the lead, she decided for all of us: “Let’s enjoy that perfect day.”

It was a gorgeous day, and I felt easy, able to forget my larger issues and my demons for a while. I set my worries aside and enjoyed my time with Vera. Giovanni drove us to another resort, and we spent the morning shopping. Vera insisted buying me a bag I really liked. I bought her chocolate. Giovanni sweated every time Vera would stop at the next boutique. She was not really interested in shopping, but she still bought a lot of stuff and made Giovanni pay for everything.  “You are not allowed to sell yourself cheap, Mona! Men have to take you seriously,” she advised me while trying a pair of sunglasses in the mirror. Her taste was questionable, to say the least. She tried on clothes and modeled them for me, letting me make the final decision. She told me she had more clothes than she ever wore, because she was not into fashion. She had her favorite T-shirt and jeans, and she was comfortable with them. That didn’t stop her from buying more, though, especially when someone else was paying.

After a long morning of shopping Giovanni drove us back. I asked her if she wanted to join me at rehearsals but she refused. She was tired from our shopping trip, and still had to pack, but she said she might join us later for the show. Giovanni dropped me at the beach, and I walked over to the crowd. The place was packed, and I remembered the Festival was still going on. I entered the rehearsal hall and I tried to find a familiar face. I saw Geta and walked over to her. She told me that all the bands were there with their entourages. Alin saw me and came over, smiling. He kissed me, wrapping his arms around me possessively. I returned the hug, putting my hands around his neck and raising up on my tiptoes. Apparently he had recovered from his night of drinking. I told him I was going back to the house for at least an hour to freshen up and do my nails. He asked me to be on the lookout for Jony, who hadn’t bothered to show up to rehearsals yet. I hoped my sudden tension didn’t show as I realized Jony might very well be alone in the house. Alin gave me another kiss to send me on my way, oblivious to my traitorous thoughts. I left and made my way back to the house, apprehensive about what I might find when I got there.