AFTER RECOUNTING HER TRIALS, STARTING with her and Bianca getting caught in the demonstrations and ending with Tamara’s unexpected appearance at their door, Eva could go no further. The entire time, she’d spoken facing the window, unable to look at Aleandro and his intense gaze, and now she dipped her aching head against the cool glass.
“We had no idea,” she resumed after a few minutes, sliding into the chair beneath the window and pulling her knees to her chest. “We had no idea, you see, that we were being surveilled, that they’d tapped our phones, that they’d been watching Eduard for a while. That they were watching and waiting for an opportunity to ruin him, to ruin us, yet it all came to us clearly in that moment. To be tagged as a revolutionary… I don’t have to tell you what that means in this country.
“Luckily,” she went on after a pause, “Tamara and several of the other medics had already arranged passage into Austria at Pamhagen while the borders were still open, and he went with them that very same night. In all the chaos that ensued, there was a good chance that they could make it through. Tens of thousands had fled already in those early days after the revolution, but then the Soviets were sealing the borders quickly and there wasn’t much time. No time, I mean, for us to figure out a better way to go with him as a family. My daughter was still shaken from the days of battle, and Dora’s health had been fragile for quite some time. It was inconceivable that we could bring her, and I couldn’t leave Dora any more than I could put my daughter through the danger of a border crossing, through more trauma. So he went without us. It was nearly impossible to convince him to go, but in the end, he did it. Truly there was no other choice. If he’d stayed, I don’t think he would be alive today.”
It was a long while before Aleandro could speak. “Dear God, Eva, and have you had any word from him since? Anything at all? Do you know where he is now? And are you safe? Are you safe here, in Budapest?”
“All I know is that he’s in Austria, in Vienna. And yes, I believe that I am safe. It is not me that they want, not while I might still lead them to him.” Her fingers brushed over the dark green brocade, tracing the swirls of carved wood on the chair. “I get word from time to time through other people’s families, through Tamara’s sister. I hear that he is trying everything to get us out of Hungary, to arrange for us and Bianca to join him under safer circumstances, but I fear that might be impossible. It could take years, or possibly never. And then there is her, Tamara. All that I know is that she is there with him. She is there with him in Vienna, and I don’t know what to think from one day to the next.”
Now they were both silent, and Eva could only guess what he was thinking: Eduard now gone, and him here, here with her, the window that had opened for him as much as it had for Tamara. The uncanny reversal of circumstances. It was almost impossible to believe.
“Aleandro, I could never blame Eduard for anything, no matter how it turns out. He always fought for the right thing, even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way. In the end, all I want for him is happiness, with or without me. He has been a good husband to me all these years; he’s given me more than you know.”
“And you love him. Do you love him just as you did before?” His voice, weak, desperate, reached for the last bit of truth.
All she had, all that she could give, was the truth.
“I always cared deeply for Eduard, even before I met you, but it was always different with him than it was with you. It’s hard to explain, and perhaps there isn’t really a way to phrase it. We built a home together, we raised a child, we shared our work, a whole life. But, for whatever it’s worth, I wanted you to know before you left for New York that I’ve been on my own for a year. Perhaps it’s no excuse for my being here, but at least now you know.”
A long silence followed.
“I can’t go back to New York,” he said.
“What? You can’t be serious. What do you mean?”
“I cannot go back to New York without you. How can I leave you here now?”
“Aleandro. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“But I do. I know exactly what I’m saying. You were married to me, too—once, in heart.”
It was so poetic that it might have been a verse in a book. Him, her, Eduard. They were tied together in a vortex of fate that would never release them. Forever she would be caught between these two men, with the wheels of history, which took one away, then the other, tearing up the boundaries of her heart and her life. How messy love was, when it should have been simple, beautiful. How much damage it left in its wake.
“Go home, Aleandro. Go home and live your life. You will always have my love, but there are responsibilities here that I can’t walk away from.”
“I want my life to be with you.”
She had to close her eyes but couldn’t block out his words, nor the questions that surfaced without invitation. Could she go with him? Could she leave Dora? Yes, she was quite angry with Dora, but could she really leave her behind? Dora was her soul mother; she had been there for her through thick and thin, she’d given her a home, she’d helped raise her daughter. And Bianca. Could she tell her the truth about Aleandro? She would no doubt resent her, and Eva had only just begun to bridge the distance between them.
And Eduard. It would crush him. If he ever came back to find them gone, it would crush him. He would think their whole life a hoax.
“I have a daughter,” she said with renewed resolution. “A daughter who loves him, whom he loves. A daughter who’s probably looking out the window right now for him to come up the road with suitcase in hand. I can’t take that away from him. Nor from her.”
“I, too, could learn to love your daughter, given the chance,” he went on, undeterred. “All I ask for is the simple chance. Everything I’ve accomplished in this life, Eva, everything that I’ve done, I’ve dreamed of sharing with you someday. I stayed alive in that camp for you. All I ask is for the simple chance. So please say yes, Eva. Please.”
Her hand traveled to her mouth to suppress a cry. Your daughter, my daughter, our daughter. Eduard’s daughter above all, above all. Bianca, whose name she couldn’t say, for if she did, she feared that she would reveal the one thing that would unravel them all.
“It’s impossible.”
“It is not,” Aleandro said. “I know you think it’s a crazy proposition, but I have contacts in New York, important contacts who can help, and I have plenty of money, if that’s what it takes to get you both out. It is not impossible if we wish it, and perhaps he would wish it, too, if it meant a better life for you and your daughter. So come with me, Eva, come with me to New York. Let me love you as I’ve yearned to do since the day that we met.”
“I can’t, Aleandro.” She reached the last ounce of inner strength as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t leave here, I can’t leave Budapest when there is still a possibility of his return. He is my husband.”
Her words fell between them like a guillotine blade, silencing any further urgings or pleas. Turning away from him and those anguished eyes, Eva went into the front room, where she began collecting her things—her slip, her bra, her dress and stockings—and retreated into the bathroom, needing desperately this small distance.
When she emerged, he was still there, still on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands, the long line of his body arched in a Rodin pose. He didn’t move as she walked past him to pick up her shoes near the bed or when she continued on to the door. Only when she reached the foyer did she hear his voice from the other room, broken but determined:
“I will not say good-bye to you. I will not mourn you again.”
A sob came from her throat as she walked out of the suite and closed the door against the room and all that it contained. Softly, she closed it against those last words to her.