FOR TEN DAYS AND NIGHTS, as the clashing continued, thousands of freedom fighters—some wounded, some simply seeking a place to rest—poured into the Hospital in the Rock. Eva took a leave from her regular job in the maternity ward on account of her daughter’s health, the only thing she could think of to justify the absence, and she and the others worked in the cave around the clock, much as they had in the days of the siege. To Eva, it was like stepping back in time. Everything was eerily similar: the wounded, the lack of space, the relentless efforts of the medics, even Tamara. Tamara, whom Eva had only seen a handful of times in the past decade at some colleague’s dinner party or another. Tamara, who had changed so little, still lithe and quick on her feet, still scanning the evolving situations with the acuity of a hawk. Still looking at Eduard, she realized with a sudden shock, the same way, and he at her with a casual ease, which made her wonder if perhaps Tamara had remained a part of his life all these years, and whether he had kept this from her.
But just as before, there was no time to dwell on personal matters, for graver things were taking place aboveground.
Just a few short weeks since Eva and Bianca had marched in the demonstration, the Soviets amassed a full army that waited at the Romanian border to quell the uprising. One rainy morning in early November, all hope that Hungary would wrench itself from Soviet control was dashed. The Russian armada crushed the revolution with unusual brutality in a matter of hours, setting an example for the rest of the Eastern European countries under their control. By sundown it was all over.
In the stunned despair that blanketed the city, Eva and Eduard cried leaving the hospital that day. They cried as many others did in the streets for the twenty-five hundred people who had lost their lives for a dream of freedom that would not be.
“It was not for nothing,” Eva tried consoling Eduard. “At least we did our part. And I’m so proud of you, Eduard. I’m so proud of you for your courage.”
Eduard would not be comforted. “The West,” he said. “The West stood by and did nothing. They did not send help; they turned their eyes the other way.” A sheen of drizzle had gathered onto his red scarf and the shoulders of his overworn coat, into the stubble of his unshaven cheeks. She reached up and swiped the wetness from his brow, but he seemed utterly unaware. “We are alone, Eva. This illusion, that we are still part of the larger world, has died today.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Well, at least we still have our family. We have each other. And whatever comes now, we will have to endure.”
“Yes,” Eva agreed, “we will endure.” And she couldn’t help being reminded of what Tamara had said to her once, in the last days of the siege. They couldn’t bend fate to their will, but they would endure. They had no other choice.
That night, their family indeed felt as though there was nothing beyond the small universe they shared. As they embraced Bianca and Dora, who’d spent most of those days in the basement shelter of their apartment while Eduard and Eva toiled in the hospital, not a tear was spared. But in those tears, there was love; there was a future. Wherever this next path would lead, whatever chapter would open, they were not alone.
“It was not for nothing,” Eva repeated to Eduard later that night, resting her head on his chest in their bed.
Eduard was already asleep, so she shifted her head onto her own pillow. But in the darkness, she wondered. She wondered how true those words really were.
No more than a week later, there was an early-morning knock. Eduard was still sleeping, still exhausted from the work at the hospital, and Eva went to answer the door. It was Tamara.
“Tamara. Hello! Is everything all right?” Eva was less surprised to see her here at half past seven than by the way she looked. Her dark cropped hair was lank and plastered behind her ears, her eyes deeply shadowed. From underneath the coat, the edge of a flannel slip peeked out, and Eva wondered if she’d somehow left the house forgetting to change.
Eva herself hadn’t taken much time with her appearance since the return from the hospital, for she, too, was preoccupied with other things. Bianca seemed withdrawn, frightened from the gunfire, and refused to sleep alone in the dark. Most nights she either curled into bed with Dora, or dozed on the sofa between her and Eduard. Eva loved this new closeness, though she’d be lying if she said Bianca’s sudden neediness didn’t concern her a little.
“Is he here?” Tamara’s gaze shot past Eva as she walked inside without so much as an invitation, taking in the sofa strewn with blankets and the coffee table where they’d left their tea mugs the night before. “Please say that he is.”
“Yes, he’s still sleeping; they all are,” Eva replied, filled now with annoyance. The casual exchange between Tamara and Eduard in the hospital was still on her mind, and she’d been waiting for the right time to bring it up with Eduard. And now this early-morning intrusion. Turning away from Tamara, she tied her robe and brushed the hair out of her face. “So what’s happening, Tamara? What is it that you want?”
“I must speak to him. I must speak to you both. Please, Eva, go wake him. Go now.”
“Can’t this wait? As I said, he’s still sleeping. Perhaps you might like some coffee. It will give us a chance to talk.”
“Eva, please.”
Trying her best not to lose her temper, Eva turned and marched into the bedroom. She shook Eduard, who was snoring softly, his head buried under the blanket.
“Eduard, Tamara’s here.”
He groaned, turned the other way.
“Eduard, it seems important. What do you want me to do?”
Another groan. Finally, he sat up at the edge of the bed with his hands planted on his thighs. “Can’t you tell her to come back later? Tell her I’ve a headache and cannot get out of bed. Then come back and get in here with me for a couple more hours. Dear Lord, it’s not even light out.”
Eva did not have the chance to agree wholeheartedly, nor to take comfort in the fact that Eduard seemed not in the least interested in Tamara’s presence, for a moment later, Eduard threw the covers off and slipped his feet into his moccasin slippers. “Well, if she’s here, we might as well find out what it’s about. Maybe it’s to do with the hospital.” Then he grabbed his robe and shuffled toward the door as Eva followed suit, hoping that the exchange with Tamara would not ruin her day.
“They know, Eduard. The Secret Police know,” Tamara said, her face pale and stern in the weak light by the kitchen window where they’d retreated to speak. Tamara had insisted that they turn on the radio to drown out their conversation from any neighbors who might overhear, and now Eva’s irritation was replaced by an acute pang of panic. “They’ve already questioned several of the medics who were in the hospital with us, and they know somehow that you arranged to have supplies smuggled from Saint John’s. They are trying to get others to sign confessions. It hasn’t happened yet, because, Eduard, you are loved, truly loved by so many, but they will continue to harass and press until they get what they want. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her eyes shifted directly to him, grazing past Eva. “Do you understand what this means for you?”
“How could the Secret Police possibly know such a thing?” Eva chimed in, trying to take in all that Tamara was saying. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she filled it with water from the sink and took a gulp, aware that her hand was shaking. “The medics are loyal to Eduard; they would never cave, certainly not this quickly. So how could they possibly know about the smuggled supplies? No, it’s just not possible. It’s not possible to charge him with anything without proof.”
Tamara shot her a look, her brown eyes zoning in on her in a challenging way that went through Eva like cold water. “Well, Eva, somehow they do know. I don’t know how exactly. But the fact is: once they confirm that Eduard was at the center of it, that he organized the whole thing, he will be declared a revolutionary. It may be just days, hours perhaps, before they come to arrest him. It’s why I’m here.”
It connected then. Everything connected in a formidable clash, and it left Eva light-headed, grabbing for the back of the chair in which Eduard sat glumly, staring at the floor: The vision of Eduard on the phone, recruiting the medics. Ana’s caved, humiliated face at the end of the recital. The unpleasantness with her husband as they were leaving.
It does make one wonder where those ideas come from. What precisely she hears in that apartment of yours.
“Oh my God,” she cried out in the silence. “Oh God, Eduard.” She fixed her eyes on Eduard, who looked up at her, ashen.
Yes, they did have proof. And they would come for him. Tamara was right. It was only a matter of time.