Chapter Twenty-Two

 

As the days got longer, Evgeny Popescu found the last hours of sunlight interminable. It was his first summer since the accident, and the brightness and color of the outside world was unbearable. He bought heavy curtains for all the windows in his apartment and was drawing them earlier and earlier every evening. His dwelling was becoming a cave, and more and more, he wished he could crawl into the darkness alone and stay there until he was healed, until the car accident and the pain were well behind him.

Today was worse than most. He received the news from the police in Warsaw that the investigation had been closed on the man who ran him over nearly a year ago. A joint task force working with officers from Romania determined it was an accident with no criminal negligence. With the help of the Romanian Gymnastics Federation, Evgeny successfully sued the man, but he was a cab driver who was in debt to begin with. The RGF and the international gymnastics community took care of all of his medical bills. Thank God he was well enough to work. Otherwise he didn’t know what he would do.

The driver of the car not being prosecuted criminally was a slap in the face to Evgeny. His life was ruined, and the only compensation he received was a modest sum of money and an apology. Not exactly salve for the wound. More days than not, he wished he would have died that foggy morning. There was no way he would be able to watch the Olympics on television, and the mental anguish, though substantial, was nothing compared to the physical pain he endured all day, every day. How the hell did the RGF expect him to be an effective coach when he could hardly spot the girls, when by the end of the day he was practically dragging his mangled leg behind him as he hobbled about the gym?

Fides Funar, his girlfriend, heard the news and brought dinner to his apartment. It was from his favorite restaurant, but he was not hungry. All he wanted to do was take a few pain pills, wash them down with a half dozen beers, and pass out in the welcoming darkness.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

“I feel the same as I always feel,” Evgeny replied angrily. “Except now I know no one will be punished for destroying my career and my life.”

Fides took a bite of her salad and said casually, “Maybe if you tried forgiving that man, you’d feel better.”

“Forgive him,” he said. “I’ll live a lifetime of punishment for his mistake, I’ll never earn the Olympic gold I deserve, and the only way I’ll ever be able to sleep through the night is doped on pain meds. People stare at me in the street, watch me limp, shake their heads in pity. And what about him? His cab is dented and he’s out a handful of cash. Where’s the justice?”

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, but we both know life is not fair,” Fides clarified. “Staying angry at the world does nothing to the man you believe deserves to be punished. You just keep punishing yourself.”

“I wish there were a way to take all this back,” he said, putting his head in his hands. “I wish there were a way to make it so none of this happened.”

“But you can’t,” she said, gently but with a harsh reality check. “What’s done is done, and you can never change it. You will always limp. But you can walk. You will always have pain. You’re not the only one.” She put down her fork and sniffled. “I love you, but I don’t think I can live with this much longer. Your anger sucks all my energy, every room you walk into becomes dark and bleak. I want to be happy, and you make it impossible.”

“I can’t change overnight. You have no idea what this so-called accident has done to me.”

“That’s because you don’t let anyone in. You refuse to let me help you, to allow me to support you. Evgeny, you refuse to let yourself begin to heal. You might not want to be happy, but I do.”

“Do you want to leave me?” He didn’t want her to go. She was the person he complained to, and though he never showed it, she was the only one in the world who ever made him feel the slightest bit better.

“No,” she replied to his great relief. “But I will if you continue down this path. You have a good job, you’re respected, and you have me. If you pass a hundred people on the street, ninety-nine of them will say their dreams are unfulfilled. Yet they still manage to smile, to be grateful for what they have. What destroyed their dreams isn’t what makes them special. They’re special because they carry on. If you stay the way you are now, or God forbid get worse, the only thing that will make you special is you won’t have any friends or anybody to love you. Is that really what you want?”

Not exactly. He wanted to be left alone, but not in the way she was describing. If that were his choice, he knew he needed to make some changes, even if he knew in his heart they’d be entirely superficial. He reached across the table and put his hand on her cheek, wiping away the tears. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been insufferable. I can’t promise every day will be great, but I’ll try harder.”

“That’s all I need.” She smiled and kissed him. Her lips were warm and inviting, and Evgeny was glad he’d been able to convince her to stay with him. Their physical relationship had always been easy and fulfilling, and that was one thing he was incapable of sacrificing.

Later that night, they were watching television together when there was a knock on the door.

“Are you expecting anybody?” Fides asked.

“No. I’ll go see who it is.” He removed his arm from her shoulders and went to the door. Andrei Tatarescu was waiting for him. He looked at his watch and said, “Andrei. It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“We’ll see. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Evgeny stepped aside and allowed the president of the RGF access to his apartment. He turned on the light and said, “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Yes. Thank you.” It was how he always responded, and Evgeny poured him a small glass of whisky as they sat down together at the kitchen table. His girlfriend also pulled up a chair, and he said, “Andrei, I don’t know if you’ve met my girlfriend. This is Fides Funar.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said politely and gave him a kiss on each cheek.

“You too, my dear. We met in the hospital,” Andrei explained as she sat down with them. “You were unconscious.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, eager to change the topic of conversation.

“A woman was at the hospital in Timişoara today asking to see the physician who was in charge of treating Ileana Dalca.” Tatarescu said it offhandedly, but the look in his eyes betrayed the gravity of what that might mean.

“Who was she?”

“We’re not really sure. She said her name was Abby Vicari, an American. She was there with a translator.”

“Is she a reporter?”

“Not one we’ve ever heard of or can find a record for. And she’s not a cop, either. She seems young.”

“Why did she say she was there?” Evgeny wondered.

“She said she was a filmmaker, working on a documentary about Beatrix Dalca. She came to the hospital for information about Ileana’s accident and treatment.”

“Is that true?”

“I talked to a sports reporter in Constanţa who told me a woman came to town with Shaye Sylvester and Galya Prokhor. He described Vicari but didn’t know her name.”

His face darkened when his old rival’s name was mentioned. He heard a rumor the American gymnast was coming to Romania to train with Trixie, but there had been no word of either of them showing up at the gym. “Are they training?”

“Started today,” Tatarescu confirmed.

“We never should have allowed her to work in our gym.”

“The center in Constanţa is private, we have no control over it,” Tatarescu reminded him. “Besides, it could be good publicity for the program.”

“Sure, if there weren’t some curious American reporter or whatever she is snooping around. What did the doctor tell her?”

“Nothing. Dr. Cristea only gave her the facts in the medical report, and Dr. Suciu’s staff kept her waiting until visiting hours were over then the kicked her out because she had no family in intensive care. She said she’d be back tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand,” Fides interjected. “So what if Abby Vicari wants to speak with the doctor who treated Ileana? No one at the hospital lied or made any mistakes. If it helps us understand what Trixie and her family went through, helps the world understand how tragic Ileana’s death was, what’s the harm?”

“The harm is this woman might not simply be looking for information. She might be looking to blame someone,” Tatarescu said.

“Who?” Fides wondered.

“Evgeny.”

“This is ridiculous,” Evgeny said. “I never wanted anything bad to happen to Ileana. It was a terrible accident.”

“Someone blaming you for something you never wanted to happen, a total accident,” Fides said, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “That’s how I like my irony served.”

“This is not the same situation.”

“No, no, of course not,” she said in a way that denoted she in fact thought it was the exact same situation.

“I’m going to Timişoara tonight, and I’ll meet Ileana’s doctors mid-morning. I won’t miss the meeting between them and the American.”

“Is there anything I should do?”

“Stick to the story. Be remorseful.”

“You don’t have to remind him to be remorseful,” Fides said. “He’s torn up about what happened to that little girl, we both are.”

“As am I. I’m simply reminding him he needs to remain remorseful and not defensive. There’s nothing to hide.”

“Damn right there’s not,” she agreed.

“Why would she talk to me at all?”

“Eventually Abby Vicari is going to want to visit Ileana’s gym in Deva.”

“So tell her no,” Evgeny insisted.

“I can’t. Full disclosure, remember?”

“I don’t want her asking questions about Ileana around the gym. It’ll upset the girls.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Tatarescu finished his whisky and stood. “I only stopped by to tell you what was happening. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know the next step.”

“I appreciate it, Andrei.” Evgeny led him out the door, and when he shut it, he looked worriedly at his girlfriend.

“It’ll be okay,” Fides assured him. “After all, you have nothing to hide.”