I Must Betray You(28)

“Yeah? What’s her name?” asked Dan.

I paused. Should I tell him?

“Liliana,” I finally said. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “I liked a German girl who was staying in our building, but her family was only visiting. She sends me letters with cool stamps though.”

He fiddled with the magazine. “Does Liliana like music?” he asked.

“Yes. Springsteen.”

“Springsteen, huh?” Dan flipped the pages back to an article and photo of Bruce Springsteen. Without pausing, he tore the page from the magazine.

I took a step back. Dan Van Dorn tore the page right out of the magazine. He didn’t request permission. That couldn’t be legal—in any library, anywhere. That was just vandalism. He saw my eyes pop and laughed.

“I heard the U.S. Embassy really needs this information,” he whispered, rolling the sheet and sliding it through a loop on his backpack. “You know, this library is open to Romanians as well. You can come on your own.”

“Really?” I wondered if Bunu knew that.

“Yeah, Reagan and Bush aren’t really fans, but back in the day, Nixon bartered a deal with Ceau?escu. Romania was allowed to open a cultural office in New York and the U.S. opened this library in Bucharest.”

Aren’t really fans. Nixon bartered. What did that mean? There weren’t any photos in the album of Ceau?escu with recent U.S. presidents. Is that what Dan was referring to?

And sure, the American Library existed, but any Romanian who entered alone was probably reported to the Securitate. Would anyone take the risk?

“Thanks for bringing me. It’s interesting,” I said.

“Sure. I come every two weeks. Tag along. There’s not much for me to do in Bucharest. Do you ever get bored?” he asked.

“No time to be bored.”

“Yeah, you’re always in school or standing in a line. Hey, take me to stand in line sometime. That would be interesting to write about for my college essays.”

He wanted to stand in a line? Did it seem like a novelty to him? My brow narrowed.

“Sorry, what I mean is, in the States, we don’t have to stand in line for things. We don’t have a Kent economy either. Last week my mom had to hustle up some Kents to have our trash collected. Boy, she was griping about that. I’m still wondering what my dad did to get demoted and sent here.”

Dan’s comments gave me so much to think about. What did “tag along,” “hustle,” “griping,” and “demoted” mean? But bouncing in my mind was the question of Hungary: Were the citizens of Hungary still standing in lines? Could they travel freely now?

Once we were outside, Dan thrust the rolled magazine article toward me.

“Give this to your girl. Tell her it’s a present from New Jersey.”

I hesitated. The article was stolen property, but I wanted it for Liliana. I took it and quickly stuffed it in my jacket. “Seems like you miss home.”

“A lot. Romania doesn’t have a strong international high school yet, so I’m stuck at the apartment with a tutor all day. I wanted to stay at my school in the States, but my parents insisted our family travel together. If things are quiet at the embassy next month, they’ve promised we’ll go home for Christmas. I can’t wait. I’ll bring back some new stamps.”

“Great.”

“Hey, Cris.” Dan paused. “Don’t tell my parents that I ripped the page out of the magazine, okay?”

The way he said it, he was concerned. “Okay,” I said. He seemed relieved. Maybe the bravado had been for show.

“And by the way,” he said. “I’ve heard your mom call you Cristi. In the States, that’s a girl’s name, you know.” He laughed and punched my shoulder.

My brain was full of static. I could barely process it all: Ceau?escu had visited Disneyland. He had outfoxed everyone.

Hungary was free. They had broken away from communism.

Mr. Van Dorn wanted me to see the magazine, to know that. Why?

I had an article about Bruce Springsteen for Liliana.

What would I report to Paddle Hands?

In the United States, Cristi was a girl’s name.

But shouting in refrain—

Hungary was free.

Hungary was free?





|| INFORMER REPORT ||


[11 Nov. 1989]


Cristian Florescu (17), student at MF3 High School.


Observed Saturday afternoon in the American Library with Dan Van Dorn. Florescu scanned books in the travel section and read through an American political magazine. He then sat with Van Dorn at a table. Dan Van Dorn tore a page out of a magazine and put it in his book bag. Florescu did not object nor report him. Florescu then departed with Van Dorn.





31


    TREIZECI ?I UNU




A lie is like a snowball. It rolls, becomes bigger, heavier, and eventually, it’s difficult to lift. I had thought I was strong. But how much weight could I actually carry?

I couldn’t mention the American Library to Bunu. He’d ask questions and my answers would just create a bigger snowball. I decided to tell Bunu I’d heard mention of Hungary on the street and that we had to get our radio fixed to find out what was going on.