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I needed no further encouragement.
I knew my way about the house from many visits in halcyon days past and hurried through, aware Nicolae was being beckoned into the house behind me, to avoid drawing unwanted attention by remaining at the door.
If Raisa’s home had fared better than our own, still there were signs that recent events had taken their toll. Much furniture had gone, presumably sold to make ends meet, and I knew that, if times had been hard for everyone, it was especially difficult for Raisa’s family.
They were Russian immigrants. Refugees from our giant neighbour during the upheavals there. It was strange now to think that it was Papa that had made them welcome in Medgidia when first they arrived, without a home or work, barely able to speak our language. Thus it was that I had first met Raisa. We had been friends now for so many years I could hardly remember a time when we did not know one another.
I pushed the door open and saw Raisa at the table, sewing. She looked up in surprise as she saw me, then leapt to greet me, at once delighted and confused, for it had been an indeterminable time since I had been allowed to visit her. Her father had forbidden any contact between us after Papa’s execution, yet now here I was in her own home once more.
“Anca! Anca! What are you doing here? If Papa finds you he will—”
Raisa’s father appeared in the doorway. “It is okay, Raisa. I invited Anca in. I am given to understand she will be leaving today. This will be the last time you will see her. That is correct, Anca?”
I nodded, almost as confused as Raisa by her father’s sudden change of heart. “We are to be at the station at noon.”
“The station? But Anca, where? Who else is going? What will become of you?” Raisa choked out the questions as if fearing her father would rescind his decision before she could complete her enquiries.
As she spoke she moved across to me and we embraced as the friends we had always been. She began to cry, and I knew I could not long control my own emotions.
“Nicolae, come through with me, child,” I heard her father say. “Let us give these girls some privacy.”
I watched over Raisa’s shoulder as her father led Nicolae away, pulling the door closed. For a moment we leaned against one another, savouring the physical contact, then I clasped Raisa’s shoulders and pushed her to arms length, studying her face.
She implored me, “Anca, tell me it is not true. You are really leaving?”
“It is so, Raisa. Mama, Nicolae and I... It is for the best.”
“But where? Where are you bound?”
I shook my head. “I forget the name. It is a resettlement camp of some sort. We will be given a place to live, to work, until the war is over. Far from here, I know that much, for we are to travel by train. And then...”
I looked deep into her eyes as words failed me. “And then, I do not know. But it cannot be worse than staying here in Medgidia. There is nothing left here for us, Raisa, please understand that. You are the only friend I have left, and I am forbidden to see even you.”
“But Papa let you in this day, Anca. Perhaps he has had a change of heart?” Her eyes shone with hope.
“To avoid a scene at the door, Raisa, nothing more. That and to allow his daughter a final farewell to her friend.”
Raisa embraced me again, saying, “No, Anca, not final. We will meet again, sometime in the future, when the war is over. I promise you we will. One day it will end, and people will live together peacefully once more. It must end, Anca, for otherwise what point is there to life? Wherever you go, whatever happens, promise you will remember me. Remember the good times we enjoyed together.”
I clutched her to my breast and we cried together, as only best friends can.
I recall once Papa asking me what it was that distinguished a friend from a best friend. I answered that, in the company of a best friend, there was no need to act. One could be true to oneself and not fear to lose that friendship.
I knew now, as we held each other close, that Raisa was and would always be my one best friend.
As we cried together, without embarrassment or shame, I savoured her presence, as she mine. And as the tears expired we began to talk, one to the other in desultory fashion, speaking meaningless phrases, asking questions that had no answers, relating stories that had no point, enjoying the very act of communication as only children our age could.