––––––––
I wondered what I could say to Nada to make her feel better. I had heard stories of robbers breaking into houses in the middle of the night and killing families, but it either happened so far away or the robbers were looking for something they knew the family had. They didn’t break into kill them because they went to the wrong church.
*****
July 31, 1991
Dear Nada,
I am sorry your dad had to go work in Italy and I am sorry about Mate. I wish there was something I could write to make you feel better, but I can’t think of anything. I hope everything turns out okay and you stay safe.
Last week, I had a dream Emily was still alive. I saw her face in my dream the way it was; all smiles and blue eyes. It is getting harder for me to picture her face in my mind when I am awake, but she was so real in my dream. My Aunt Shari brought her to my house and she ran to me as soon as Aunt Shari put her down on the floor. I hugged her, picked her up, and then I started crying hard. I felt myself waking up and I tried to stay asleep, but I woke up anyway. My pillow was wet. Every night since then, I wish I would dream of Emily again, but I haven’t.
Next month, I have to go stay with my dad and Nikki for a whole week. I am not looking forward to it. When we go visit every other weekend, both of them treat all of us like we are Prio’s age, and Dad and Nikki are always touching each other. It makes me want to puke. I don’t know if I will be able to make it there for an entire week.
I have less than a month until I go back to school and I can’t wait. I am so bored with summer. It is hot outside. I just stay inside all day reading books or lying on my floor listening to music. When the sun starts to go down, I go for a walk and sit by the river. Sometimes I still think about jumping in, but I promise I won’t without telling you first.
I am sorry this letter is boring; I don’t have much to say. But since any excitement is probably going to be bad excitement, I guess I’d rather take boring. I hope you are feeling better and your dad gets to come home soon. Write back when you can!
Your friend,
Ami
*****
I looked out my window. The mail truck was coming down the street. I raced down the stairs to put a stamp on my letter, hoping I could make it to the mailbox in time. A strange noise stopped me halfway between the living room and kitchen. It sounded like a muffled dog barking. I peeked around the kitchen wall, “Mom?”
She sat slumped over the kitchen table, her forehead resting on top of her folded hands. “Mom?” I asked again. She looked up. Her eyes were rimmed in red; she wiped them with the back of her hand. I looked around for Prio and Forti but didn’t see them. A bit of panic crept into my throat.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was just cutting onions.” I neither saw nor smelled any evidence of onions. “What are you doing?”
“I was getting stamps so I can mail a letter to my pen pal.”
“You’d better hurry. I think the mail truck is at the neighbor’s.” I looked at my mom but she said nothing else. I ran out the door to give my letter directly to the mail carrier. When I came back in, I went to my bedroom, lay on my bed, and cried.
*****
8 August 1991
Dear Ami,
I am still at my home in Rijeka. Tata is working in Italy as a welder. His company makes excavation tools like loader and backhoe buckets. He has been away for almost two weeks. He won’t be able to come home for a visit for a couple more weeks. I am sad because we will not be able to make trip to Bosnia to visit my grandparents this summer. There is fighting between here and there so it is too dangerous. Besides, Tata has to work since this is a new job. Mama still works at the suit factory. Maja and I still ride bicycles, swim in the sea, and play with our friends, but I am scared.
I am scared and I have no one to talk to. I do not sleep at night but just lay in bed waiting. I’m not sure what I am waiting for. I suppose I am waiting for daylight because daytime is when everything is okay. Have you seen anything on your television yet? It is a war here. The Sunday before Tata left for Italy, there was fighting in eastern Croatia between Serb people and Croatian police officers. My parents have received more letters telling us to leave or we will be killed, but since I am forbidden from looking at the mail when it arrives, I cannot tell my parents I know about letters.
It is not a good place to be a Serb right now. Some of our neighbors will not even look at us when we walk right by them. It is like they think my family is personally trying to block Croatia from being independent. I have not seen Mate as much lately. He told me his parents forbid him to see me because I am a Serb, but he sneaks to my house on his motorcycle when he can. We cannot go for rides anymore because someone will see him and tell his parents. It is the middle of summer and even with everything happening, we go to beach almost every day. On the weekends, Mama, Maja, and I still go hiking.
Do you still hate your Larry Benson? Do you have your eye on someone new? I hope everything is better for you. Please write me back when possible.
Your friend,
Nada
*****
I folded Nada’s letter and filed it in my saved box of other letters, cards, and mementos. I could not imagine living in a country with an actual war happening. How scary it would be to lie in bed at night wondering if someone is going to come in to kill you.
“Ami, he’s here!” Forti yelled at me from the bottom of the stairs. We were going to spend a week with my dad and Nikki at their new house. I stuffed some paper and an envelope in my duffle bag to write Nada back. I hoisted it onto my shoulder and went downstairs. Forti and Prio were jumping up and down, hugging Dad. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t want to leave my mom alone. Since the day she lied about the onions, I hadn’t caught her crying, but several times, she came out of the bathroom with red rims around her eyes. She told me I had to go because she worried about Prio and Forti and I needed to look after them. If I didn’t go, they couldn’t go, but they wanted to go to the zoo and the park like Dad promised.
“There’s my Amicus Lambicus!” I rolled my eyes. My dad hadn’t called me that since I was three years old. He reached his hand toward my head but I ducked away.
“Hi, Dad.”
Nikki stood behind Dad, her hands tucked into a crisp, pale yellow trench coat, even though there were only three clouds in the entire sky.
“You remember Nikki?” my dad said.
How could I forget Nikki? I thought. Her make-up made me think she was confused; like she was expecting to meet a political dignitary or Oscar winner rather than her sugar-daddy’s three kids. Her hair was perfect; each strand carefully arranged to be stylish, but just out of place enough to remind the world she was young and hip. I thought it likely she used more hairspray in one day than my mother used in her entire life. But I guess if what Dad likes are perfectly imperfect-haired trophies, my mom deserved better anyway.
Nikki crouched down like she was summoning a puppy, “Hi Ami! I’m so excited to spend time with you. I thought we could have a spa day, get our hair done, and do our nails. How does that sound?” Her voice was high and mousy.
I thought about informing her I was not five years old, but instead waved my stub-nailed fingers in front of her. “I don’t have any nails to do,” I said, but she didn’t get it.
“Oh, that’s all right; we’ll just stick with the hair then.” She stood back up, tilted her head, and gave me an empty grin. Now I felt even more like a puppy; one who you just realized will take more training than you had thought, but you cannot be angry with it because, after all, it is just a puppy.
My mom hugged Prio, Forti, and then me. She whispered, “Be polite,” in my ear.
Forti and Prio chatted with my dad and Nikki all the way to their new house, which was bigger than our own. Nikki curtseyed and waved us inside.
“Isn’t it adorable?” she said. “We had it professionally decorated.” A white couch faced a gas fireplace and a blue throw blanket was arranged over the arm. Perfectly imperfect. My dad sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him.
“Where am I sleeping?” I asked.
“I’ll show you in a couple of minutes. Why don’t you come sit down? We can catch up and decide what we want to do this week.”
“I’m really tired. Can I just take a nap?”
Nikki clapped her hands. “Of course you can.” She took my hand and led me up the stairs to a guest room. I shut the door behind me, pretending I didn’t see Nikki standing there. I lay down on top of the covers on the bed, feeling righteous and ashamed. After a few minutes, I heard Prio, Forti, Nikki, and Dad laughing down the stairs. I took my paper and pen from my duffle bag, turned onto my side, and wrote Nada back.
*****
August 16, 1991
Dear Nada,
I hope you are okay. Once in a while they show the fighting on the news and it looks horrible. I have not heard any mention of fighting in Rijeka so I am hopeful you are safe. I cannot imagine living in a country where there is fighting of war. Do you have to stay inside your house all day yet? Have you still been able to ride your bike or see your friends? I hope you are not too bored.
I am supremely bored. I am at my dad’s and nitwit-Nikki’s new house this week. We just got here. My dad and Nikki have promised to go to all of the places and do all of the things he ever casually mentioned we would do when he became a doctor. It is like he just remembered he had kids. Forti and Prio are so happy because Dad and Nikki usually buy them everything they act even remotely interested in. Guilt gifts; that’s what they are. Forti and Prio may be bought, but I am not for sale. Don’t get me wrong; I like gifts as much as anyone else and I’m not going to turn them down, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to suddenly forget everything he has done. Do you know what I mean?
Emily will be gone five months on the 25th. It is getting harder and harder to picture her in my mind. Every time I try to think about what her face looked like, the image is not her, but just a photograph I remember seeing. The only image I can remember which is not a photograph is her little lifeless body in her casket. I can’t wait to go back to school; at least then I will have something else to think about.
I also cannot wait for next Sunday when I can go back home to my own room and my own bed. I am never able to sleep when I’m not at home. I hope Forti and Prio get enough sleep or I won’t be able to stand them. All they will do is whine and complain. It is sometimes hard for me to be a big sister. Is it ever difficult for you to be a big sister?
My school starts in a little more than one week. I really want to get a boyfriend this year. I have been developing a plan of action if I find a boy I become interested in. I am going to do something different by playing it cool and pretending I just want to be friends. So step one is to casually smile and say, “Hi,” to him. I am still working on steps two, three, four, etc.
I hope everything is well with you. Write me back when you can.
Your friend,
Ami