39
TREIZECI ȘI NOUĂ
he night air was crisp with cold. A full moon spilled light onto the street.T I stood, tucked within a shadow on our balcony. The Secu agent who lived beneath us rummaged through his boxes. I peered over the railing. The agent lifted a tarp and retrieved something from a crate. A bottle of cognac? Interesting, I had pegged him as a vodka man. Maybe he had a date. I waited, watching the street below. The agent emerged in his long dark coat and strode toward the black Dacia.
And then I saw her.
Liliana walked down the sidewalk with her brother.
I retreated into the fold of shadow, watching. She suddenly stopped and turned, glancing across the street. The ends of her purple scarf lifted in the wind. Was she looking for me—or was she looking at the agent? I had
voices on both shoulders:
You don’t want Liliana.
Liar. You want her more than ever.
You’re angry. Be angry at her.
That’s garbage. You’re in love with her.
I quickly slipped back inside our apartment.
The low hum of our radio warbled with news. Bunu shivered. I put a brick in the stove to tuck under his blanket for warmth. And then I stood next to Cici, listening.
‹‹Satellite states formerly aligned with the Soviet Union are quickly breaking away from communism. We’ve yet to receive a reaction from other Eastern Bloc allies such as Cuba, China, or North Korea.››
I shook my head. Poland, Hungary, and even East Germany, they had all marched toward freedom. “What about Romania? We’ll be left behind,”
I lamented. “All these countries will be free, and we’ll be left behind.”
“No,” whispered Cici, putting her arm around me. “Czechoslovakia
and Bulgaria aren’t free.”
True. We weren’t entirely alone.
Maybe it just felt like it?