Hidden Pictures(90)

“I will call Flora soon,” he said. “First, let’s just relax.” He brought out coffee for Adrian and a mug of herbal tea for me. He also set out a platter of tiny pastries stuffed with apricot. “These are kolache,” he said. “Please, take.”

His English had improved tremendously over the past year. He still had an unmistakable accent—“these” sounded like “deese” and “we’ll” came out “vill”—but for someone who’d only been in the country for a few years, I thought he was doing remarkably well. I noticed a large painting hanging over the fireplace, a still lake on a placid sunny day. I asked if it was your mother’s work and your father said yes, and then he walked us around the Great Room, showing off her other paintings. They were hanging in the kitchen, in the dining room, in the stairwell—all over the house, really. Your mother was very talented, and your father was so proud of her.

I asked if you were still drawing, if you were still interested in art, and your father said no. “The doctors talk about Teddy’s World and Flora’s World. And there is not much overlap. Teddy’s world had swimming pools. Flora’s world has Finger Lakes. Teddy’s world had lots of drawing. Flora’s world has lots of cousins who help raise animals.”

I was a little afraid to ask my next question, but I knew I’d have regrets if I didn’t.

“What about Anya? Is she part of Flora’s world?”

Your father shook his head. “No, Flora does not see her anya anymore.” Just for a moment, I think he sounds disappointed. “But it is better this way, of course. This is how things ought to be.”

I couldn’t really think of how to respond, so I looked outside to a half-dozen goats grazing in the grass. I could still hear your cousins playing upstairs, and suddenly I recognized the pitch and cadence of your voice. You sounded just like I remembered. Your cousins were acting out scenes from The Wizard of Oz. You were Dorothy, and one of your cousins was the mayor of Munchkinland, and she was inhaling helium from a balloon to make her voice sound funny. “Go see the Wizard!” she croaked, and you all exploded with giggles and laughter.

Then all five of you came marching downstairs singing “We’re Off to See the Wizard.” Your oldest cousin was twelve or thirteen and the youngest girl was a toddler and the rest were somewhere in between. And even though your hair was longer and you were wearing a bright blue dress, I recognized you immediately. Your face was exactly the same. Everything surrounding your face was different—but all the soft sweet features were still there. You were carrying a drum major’s baton and waving it high over your head.

“Flora, Flora, wait!” your father called. “There are guests. Mallory and Adrian. From New Jersey, remember?”

The other children stopped and gaped at us, but you didn’t make eye contact.

“We’re going outside,” the oldest explained. “We’re going to the Emerald City and she’s Dorothy.”

“Flora can stay,” József said. “Someone else can be Dorothy.”

They all started protesting, listing all the reasons why this was unfair and impractical, but József chased them out the door. “Flora stays. The rest of you come back later. Half hour. Go play outside.”

You sat beside your father on the couch but still wouldn’t look at me. It was really remarkable how a blue dress and slightly longer hair shifted my entire perception of you. Just a few subtle cues and my brain did the rest of the work, flipping all the switches. You used to be a boy. Now, you were a girl.

“Flora, you look beautiful,” I said.

“Muy bonita,” Adrian said. “You remember me, too, right?”

You nodded but kept your eyes on the floor. It reminded me of meeting you for the first time, during my job interview. You were drawing on your sketch pad, refusing to make eye contact. And I had to work a little bit to coax you into a conversation. It felt like we were two strangers again, like we were starting over.

“I heard you’re starting first grade next month. Are you excited?”

You just shrugged.

“I’m starting school, too. I’m going to be a freshman in college. At Drexel University. I’m going to study education and become a kindergarten teacher.”

Your father seemed genuinely happy for me. He said, “That’s good news!” and he spoke for several minutes about studying agriculture back in Hungary, at the University of Kaposvár. And I felt like he was overcompensating, trying to talk over all the awkward silences.

So I tried a different approach.

“I brought presents.” I passed my shopping bag across the room, and I swear I’ve never seen a child look so afraid to receive gifts. You actually backed away from the bag, like you thought it might be full of snakes.

“Flora, this is good,” your father said. “Open the bag, please.”

You pulled the wrapping paper off the first package—a box of watercolor pencils in a spectrum of colors. I explained that they worked like regular pencils, but if you added a drop of water you could brush the color around, and the effect was a bit like painting. “The lady at the art store said they’re really fun. In case you want to try drawing again.”

“And beautiful colors,” your father said. “What a nice, thoughtful gift!”