I Must Betray You(23)

I thought of the old man with the spongy nose. His message about coffee. When I told Bunu, he had just shrugged and said, “I already knew that.”

“Was it the friend he plays chess with?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But Bunu is . . . improving. Pui, do you think someone negotiated treatments or medicine? And if so, how?”

“Medicine?” I tried to appear deep in consideration. “Have you checked the supply of Kents?”

“Yes, they’re still there. But it got me thinking. Bunu is alone all day. How would we know if anyone was coming see him?”

“Why would it matter? Bunu has friends.”

“Mama wouldn’t want Bunu having meetings at the apartment.”

I thought of Mama’s comment about Bunu. “Cici, instead of being sad, Mama seems angry that Bunu has leukemia. Isn’t that strange to you?”

Before Cici could reply, a darkened silhouette appeared. Starfish.

“Cici, my lady, hope to see you at video night this weekend?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Ah, that’s right. You have a date with Alex.”

I turned to Cici. “Alex Pavel?” Alex was Liliana’s brother.

“You didn’t know?” sneered Starfish. “I thought you two worked it out together. Family business.”

“Shut up, Starfish. He just asked me ten minutes ago,” said Cici.

“Yeah, and he’s pretty excited about it. He says you asked him.”

“Get lost. I’m trying to talk to my brother.”

Starfish disappeared.

“That’s the other reason I waited for you. I know you’ve been spending time with Liliana. If it’s weird for me to go out with Alex, I won’t.”

I hesitated. “It’s a little weird.”

“Okay. I’ll cancel.”

And then I felt bad. Most guys wanted to date Cici, but she never wanted to date them. Alex was arrogant, but if she wanted to go out with him, I didn’t want to stop her.

“No, don’t cancel. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure, Pui? It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Is that why Alex had glanced at me in that morning line? He planned to ask my sister on a date?

“How was school today?” she asked.

The story had probably circulated. “Strange,” I whispered. “A kid in class had a complete breakdown. He stood up and shouted to everyone that he’s an informer.”

“What?” Her face pulled with alarm. “Did you know?”

“I had no idea.”

“Stay away from him, Pui. Far away.” She wrung her hands with concern. “And surely, he’s not the only student who’s an informer. See, this is why Mama and I constantly tell you to stay quiet. You never know who’s watching and reporting.”

Guilt rose within my already sour stomach.

“You’re right,” I said. “You never know.”





25


    DOU?ZECI ?I CINCI




Instead of lying on the couch, Bunu was standing in the kitchen, fiddling with our broken radio.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“I’ll feel better when we have the radio. I need some air. Help me out to the balcony.”

I put my arm around Bunu and guided him toward the sliding glass door.

“Romania is so efficient in the winter,” said Bunu. “Such a timesaver, not having to put on a coat.”

I laughed. Breath fogged from my mouth. We never put on coats because we never took them off.

“Shut the door,” said my grandfather. “Don’t want to make it colder out here.” He smirked.

“Bunu,” I whispered. “In Romania, what’s colder than cold water?”

“Hot water.” He smiled. “I’m surprised you remember that one.”

I glanced across the street to Liliana’s building. Liliana mentioned she’d seen me on the balcony. How often was she watching?

Bunu cleared his throat. “Something’s brewing,” he said. “I can feel it. But we need the radio to hear the updates and plans.”

“You mean the restructuring plan? The one they mentioned on Radio Free Europe?”

“Perestroika? Bah,” Bunu scoffed. “Maybe in other countries. But not here. Ceau?escu would never allow that in Romania. That would dilute his authority.” Bunu shook his head with frustration. “This five-foot-nothing man has absolute mental control over twenty-three million people. And his wife is part of that power. We have two dictators and they’ve insulated and trapped us.”

“Some don’t seem to mind.” I shrugged.

“That’s because we’ve been ruled for decades with such totality that it’s impossible for most to imagine anything different. But I’m older. I’ve been exposed to more. I’ve traveled. I know what’s out there. But you, my dear boy—you’re young. This cult of communism, what is this life doing to you and people your age?”

“Boosting our endurance, I guess.”

“Really?” Bunu’s voice strained. “Is that what it’s doing? Or is it corroding your judgment and vision?” The emotion behind his words caused him to cough. I put my arm around him until he steadied.