––––––––
At that moment Nicolae appeared in the doorway, his smiling face beaming at us. “Is it time to go on the train yet?”
Mama seized upon the interruption, turning to embrace her son, and I let the matter pass. Soon afterwards, having said an emotional farewell to Papa at the cemetery, Nicolae and I were walking hand in hand around Medgidia. While my little brother babbled excitedly about the pending train journey I looked about me with keen eyes, trying to convert to memory the scenes that for all my life I had taken for granted.
Suddenly the town had assumed a new appeal, for all the ravages of recent decline, and I felt disconsolate to be leaving. As we approached Raisa’s home I became more despondent still. Where once I had had so many friends, now only Raisa stood worthy of the name. I consoled myself with the thought that, if friendships were so easily broken, perhaps they had not been true friends at all.
But Raisa was more than just a friend. She was my best friend, and I knew that meant I must risk the wrath of her parents to see her one final time.
As we arrived outside her home the prospect was indeed daunting. Our companionship had been forbidden after Papa’s arrest and we had since met only infrequently, clandestinely, after school. Now I paused at her door, hand poised, not quite able to muster the confidence to knock.
“Anca, come on! Knock on the door!” It was Nicolae, with child-like impatience, blissfully ignorant of my dilemma. He reached up, standing on tip-toe, and clasped the brass knocker in his tiny hand, rapping it against the plate. The deed was done.
“Thank you, Nicolae. Thank you.”
While my brother skipped about the path I stood in sombre silence, dreading the confrontation. How to explain to Raisa’s parents? That I would never see my best friend, their daughter, again. What did such childhood friendships mean to adults? They were as nothing.
I prayed her mother would attend, thinking I could argue my case more easily with a woman than a man, but before I could decide upon a strategy the door opened and Raisa’s father, Maxim, stood before us.
For a moment I stood in awed silence, unable to mouth my wishes. He stared back, clearly stunned by my temerity, that I would defy his authority so brazenly as to attend his doorstep in broad daylight after what had happened.
“Anca?”
“Please, I must see Raisa.”
He stood across the doorway, his posture confirming his words. “I believe I asked you not to come here, child.”
My eyes filled with tears and I reached out an imploring hand. “Please, just this once. We are leaving today. Forever. I must say goodbye to Raisa.”
Obdurate to my lachrymose appeal, my friend’s father responded with a silent shake of his head and began to step back inside, his hand on the door to close it. “Go, Anca. You are no longer welcome here.”
“No! Please, no!” Tears flooded my cheeks as reality dawned, that I would never see Raisa again. “I have to say goodbye. Raisa is my best friend... My only friend.”
My words must have had some impact, for Maxim hesitated, then stepped forward and looked up and down the street. He turned to me again, and pushed the door open. “She is in the back room. Go quickly, and bid your farewell, child. Then be gone.”