Locket full of Secrets (16 page)

Knowing it was only a matter of time before Olena returned I ended our moment before we got too steamy. Pulling away slowly I rested my head on Steven’s chest with my eyes closed while I caught my breath. His chest beat rapidly under my cheek, matching my own racing pulse.

“I should go change now,” I commented, still not moving from his embrace.

“Mmmm hmmm,” he agreed, his arms still tight around my body.

Finally I took a step back to break the moment. I wanted so badly to just stay in his arms all day, but Olena needed us today more than ever. Planting a final kiss on his lips I turned and headed to our room to get dressed. Glancing at the bed while I slipped off my pajamas I found myself blushing at how much things had progressed with Steven. Pulling on my boots, I decided once we finished helping Olena today I would finally tell Steven what I had felt for quite some time: I was falling in love with him.

When Olena arrived from her errands, we had just enough time to grab our bags and go. The nervous look on Olena’s face from earlier in the day was gone, replaced by a determined one that I was much more used to seeing. It was clear that whatever she had done first thing in the morning helped her to get everything focused and on track for the day we were about to face.

Slipping my hand into Steven’s on the elevator ride to the lobby, I used my free hand to check out the camera Olena had given me. She told me to get used to using it, since it would help me look more like a tourist. Thankfully, it was similar to one my dad often took on vacation. The only difference, I soon learned, was that it was empty. No matter how many pictures I attempted to take, nothing would be printed later. It was clear that I would be in charge of holding the film canister we got from Uri’s house, and that thought made me both nervous and proud. It was a big responsibility, but Olena would not have trusted me with the job if she did not think I could handle it.

The walk to the travel agency was over sooner than expected, our pace much faster than the day before. We arrived just in time to load into the half-full bus and listen to a quick safety announcement. We would be allowed to take photos on this trip, and would be searched on our way in and out of the exclusion zone surrounding Pripyat to make sure we did not take anything that we did not bring with us. The tour guide also ensured us that we would be there long enough to see all the major attractions in Chernobyl and the surrounding area without being exposed to high levels of radiation. That was a comfort to know, but still left me feeling uneasy. There were likely worse things waiting for us than radiation.

“Do we really get to go into the power plant?” I asked, hoping my voice did not sound as shaky as I felt.

“Not in it, but right by it,” Olena nodded, her voice casual and excited. “I cannot believe how much of the area we get to see.”

It took me a second to realize Olena was playing up the “college backpack trip” angle. She had been chatting with people around us as we loaded up earlier, and had read the information pamphlets at least 5 times now.

“I vote we do some heavy drinking tonight to kill any radiation we might pick up,” Steven suggested, feeding off of Olena’s casual manner.

“Yeah, but we want to leave for Poland really early still,” Olena nodded. I assumed we were not actually going to Poland since Olena already paid for another night at the hotel. But if someone was listening they would be put on the wrong track at least for a little while.

At the talk of Poland, a woman in the seat in front of us turned to Olena and began asking her where in Poland we were heading. Apparently, the woman had just come from there with her new husband, who was sitting with her as well. Listening to Olena, it really sounded like we were planning a trip to Warsaw and the concentration camps from the Holocaust. Glancing at Steven, I saw he was staring out the window at the country scenery that passed us by. He looked almost sad as we drove by farms and patches of trees, all dusted with an early morning frost.

“Hey,” I smiled, nudging his arm to get his attention.

Glancing at me, he gave a little smile before taking my hand.

“Can you image what it was like for people, having to leave home?” Steven asked, his fingers lacing with mine.

“I bet it was really scary,” I nodded, emotion tugging at my stomach at the thought of Olena being one of those people fleeing home. “Do you think a lot of them got to go back and see everything?”

“People are allowed to visit, but it can’t be easy,” Steven shrugged. “Some people even worked at the plant for a while but had to still live in Kiev the whole time since it was not safe enough to stay in Pripyat anymore.”

His words made me remember the commercials I used to see on the TV as a kid. There were organizations that would send kids to the United States or other safe countries for the summer to help them have time away from the radiation and also to get better medical care. The kids were always sad in the videos, often shot in black and white to match the dreary images of their former hometown.

“Did you know they have a Ferris wheel and bumper cars in Pripyat still?” Steven asked, lightening the mood at least a little.

“Like, you can still play on them?” I asked in return.

“No, but it’s really crazy to think that everyone was getting ready for a celebration when everything happened,” Steven shrugged. “They have a pool too that just closed a few years ago. People that still worked at the plant after the accident would go swimming in it and everything.”

“You learned all of this in your European history classes?” I asked, wondering how I had never heard these things on TV or in high school.

“I read a book about everything a few years ago too,” he explained. “It was talking about when the Soviet Union fell, and Chernobyl is one of the big reasons people think it happened, so there were a few chapters about it.”

“I think after we get home I need to spend more time reading up on history,” I laughed, trying to make light of the fact that I was once again the weakest link in our group. I couldn’t seem to stay uninjured, and I also knew the least about everything we were facing.

Opening the pamphlet I had been given earlier, I did my best to read everything I could so I felt a little less behind on everything. Thankfully, I was able to read it a few times and let the information soak in before we came to our first stop.

“Alright everyone,” our tour guide announced, standing up at the front of the bus. “Have your passports and bags ready. We will be exiting the bus to get searched before entering the exclusion zone.”

Pulling my passport from my bag, I noticed the slight tremor in my hands. This was it. If we made it past the checkpoint, we were one step closer to safety. But, if the guards worked for the men looking for us or thought we were up to something, everything we had done up until that point would have been for nothing.

Our search at the checkpoint was over before I knew it. With a quick glance at my passport and a peek into my bag I was allowed to board the bus once again before we drove the rest of the way into Pripyat. Even with the rest of the people traveling with us, the check had taken less than 20 minutes.

After driving a few miles past the checkpoint we came to a stop, this time to start the tour. Looking out the window as we waited for those ahead of us to exit the bus I could see buildings on either side of us that were clearly long since abandoned. With broken windows, crumbling walls, and graffiti decorating their cement and brick exterior, each building gave me a chill. This used to be where families lived, and now it was unsafe to visit for too long.

“If you follow me we will be entering the Pripyat community center which you see to our left,” our tour guide announced, repeating his words in Ukrainian, Russian and French before leading the group down the debris littered road.

“Hey Claire, get a photo of that one,” Olena urged me with a knowing look.

“Oh yeah, sure,” I quickly recovered before lifting the camera and adjusting the focus for effect. I needed to remember to treat the camera like it was loaded. It would hopefully help cover the real plans we had for it later.

Despite knowing the photos were not real, I began to “take pictures” of everything around us. Even if I was the only one who would see the zoomed in shot of a baby doll left at a door step, or a tree growing in someone’s kitchen, the view through the lens helped me to distance myself from everything around me. I could feel my heart breaking as I thought about the people, including Olena, who once called this area home. How many others like her left for safety, only to still be affected by radiation and suffer terrible fates?

As we walked up the steps of the community center and looked at the pool Steven had told me about on our drive into town, I looked out the window to see the Chernobyl power plant in the distance. I knew we would get a closer look later, but even from this distance it was massive. Holding tight to the camera I ignored my cold chills and focused on our tour guide’s information about the city.

“Alright everyone, we are going to head out the back steps here over to the location of the famous Ferris wheel,” the tour guide announced, eliciting a few excited remarks from other tour guests. It was apparently one of the favorite stops for people on the tour who were not looking to avenge their family’s murders.

Walking down the steps ahead of my friends, I glanced back to see Steven put an arm around Olena’s shoulders. The friendly gesture gave me butterflies at seeing how considerate Steven truly was. Despite his action looking casual, I knew the truth behind it. He was comforting her as we walked through what remained of her childhood. Olena might not have liked that Steven and I were dating, but at that moment I silently cheered the victory of them maybe becoming friends. A smile played on my lips at the touching moment, before fading as soon as I stepped outside.

The Ferris wheel loomed ahead of us, its rusted metal and empty carts creaking in the strong wind that had picked up over the last hour of the tour. While the others on the tour walked closer to get a better look and take photos, I found myself rooted on the spot. I tried to imagine how it felt for children to look forward to riding the massive structure for so long, only to have the chance taken away by the meltdown at the power plant.

“Can you get a picture of me in front of the Ferris wheel?” Olena asked, brushing past me. I nodded and took a photo on my fake camera, thankful for the distraction from my thoughts.

“Lunch is after this,” Steven explained as he took my hand and slowly headed closer to the Ferris wheel. “The cafeteria is closer to the plant, but none of the food is grown here or even kept here from day to day.”