When she entered, Gilbert was sitting on the bed next to his friend, just finishing the work. She almost screamed as she saw Hynek's hand wrapped all over in white.
"Broken. At two different places. And the tea doesn't work."
"I know," she breathed and walked over to them. "It's too weak for this kind of thing. You can leave us now."
"Sure?" The German frowned at her obviously still sore leg, but since she insisted, he obliged.
There was a trace of saliva running down the half-conscious fellow's chin. Eva wiped it. It woke him up.
"I wish I could give you a shot. It would take effect more quickly." With one hand, she parted his mouth while popping a bottle of pills open with another. To her surprise, he jerked his head.
"Not that," he protested, glaring at her other hand. Eva sighed.
"This is no time for… whatever is going through your head," she half-growled while forcing his lips apart again. He clenched his teeth.
"Stop it! I can't help you if you're acting like this!" she shouted, but instantly felt bad about raising her voice at a suffering person. Especially considering how much she'd misjudged him before.
"Please," he moaned. "Anything. Just not that."
"I don't have anything else."
"Please. I know you'll figure something out."
Eva sighed again, then offered him her sweetest smile.
"Alright then. Have you ever heard of the healing power of virgin kisses?"
"No," the Czech admitted. His face lit up somewhat as he smiled weakly back. "But I fully support the concept."
"Close your eyes then."
He obeyed.
Thank God men are so dumb, Eva thought as their lips touched. Before he could realize, she spat the pills into his mouth, then sealed it with her palm and pinched his nose. His eyes shot wide open to give her a black look but, aware there was no other way out, he swallowed the medication.
"Thank me. It can be applied rectally, too."
He said nothing, just turned away and slowly drifted to sleep.
Yes, I can, Eva thought to herself, putting away the empty bottle of morphine. I can. I must.
I woke up, happy to find out all my drives were still there. And, since I was of little use with only one functional hand, I decided I might as well have some fun.
Once in front of the brothel, I noticed the windows weren't lit up red as they usually would be, but I knocked anyway. A girl wearing thick lenses and a shapeless sweater opened.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
At first, I thought she was a leaving client, so her question got me somewhat taken aback.
"Well, I was… err… you see, looking for a girl." I winked.
"Which one?" she inquired, completely disinterested.
"Err… I dunno… Maybe Sweetheart?" That was the nickname of the lady we once paid for Litva.
She rolled her eyes, removed her glasses and gave me a tired, judging look. I couldn't believe it - it was her. I just didn't recognize her without all the makeup and lingerie.
"Yet another old customer!" she yelled to someone inside the house. "When will we have that inscription made?" Afterwards, she turned back to me. "Sorry, pal, we're a chess club now."
I started to laugh, but she stepped aside and indeed, all I could see were tables with checkerboards and competing girls. One of them waved at me.
"Hey, you're Toris's friend, right?" Everyone interrupted their activities to look at me.
"Send him our love!" they shouted in unison.
So I said farewell to the girls. As I turned around to leave, I bumped into an unfamiliar country. Something about him instantly reminded me of Litva.
"'Scuse me."
"Ah, that's okay." He adjusted his glasses. He looked just as devastated as I felt. "That was the only woman who ever understood me," he moaned.
"I know that feel, bro. Wanna come over to my place and get drunk?"
Halfway down the second bottle, he started to marvel at my scars and the broken hand.
"I was convinced life at my place was hard, but yours seems even worse."
I explained where the injuries came from, that it was personal rather than political. Very personal. It was strange, because nobody, not even Gilbert knew the truth. I just felt like talking about it at that very moment. As I was finishing, I caught a glimpse of Katya through one of the windows. I ran outside and grabbed the basket she'd deposited near the entrance like she would every day. That night, we were having Würzfleisch, but - for a good reason - I was more excited about the vegetable peels rather than the food. I emptied the basket onto the ground and there it was – an envelope. I grabbed it and ran back inside.
Even though Eduard didn't say anything to his new acquaintance, he saw things somewhat differently.
First of all, that was not how punishments worked in USSR. Yes, there were cruel ones, but they were reserved to those who lied, disrespected or betrayed Ivan in some way. What he said to Eva the day she ruined the shirt was a joke; he was guessing that at worst, she wouldn't get to eat for a day. And someone would surely sneak something into her room anyway.
The other thing was – Ivan hadn't forbidden them to see one another. It was impossible; most of them shared rooms. He only told them to avoid the Czech.
Ivan must have really, really hated the guy. The Baltic believed he knew why.
In the meantime, the blond got ready to leave.
"That was an interesting story you told me. Just one question."
"Mmm?" I clumsily tore the envelope apart and retrieved its contents – a single sheet of paper.
"Is she really worth it?"
I unfolded the sheet and my heart stopped for a while.
"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, she is."
Ivan was surprised by the late-night knock on his bedroom door. He could see no reason why anyone would visit him at such an unusual hour, maybe with a few exceptions. But it wasn't the timid sound that usually betrayed one of the shaking Baltics, neither the frenetic banging of his little sister's fists. Something between the two - calm, but determined. He quickly slid his reading under the pillow.
"Come in."
Young Slovakia entered. She wasn't shrunk with fear with arms wrapped around herself for protection, the posture she usually held in his presence. This time, she was standing firm with her chin sticking out, strong and daring, exactly the way she looked the day he… But that was all such a long time ago! He didn't hope he would live to see her like that again.
"Good evening."
What happened to 'Good evening, Mr. Russia'? he wondered, undeniably intrigued.
"I came to suggest a deal," she said in business-like fashion, plunging her eyes into his. That didn't happen a lot.
"Go ahead." Ivan had no idea what was going on. And couldn't wait to find out.
"I'm asking you to let my brother go."
I wouldn't be able, even if I tried. You must know that much, little one, he inwardly sighed, but said nothing.
"I know what you want," the girl went on. "If you agree to set him free, I'll give it to you."
One of his eyebrows moved up a little.
"And what would that be?" he laughed. "What could I possibly want that I don't have already? That I can't take anytime I like?"
Without a word, Eva walked towards the spare mirror, then slowly ran a finger over the reflection of his face.
"I've always wondered what's behind that façade. Let's find out," she suggested, then pulled. This time, the key was in the lock.
"I won't open it. We both know what's inside."
A silence fell on the room.
"Go away now," he finally spoke. "Don't talk about it. And it might be you won't get punished for disrespecting my privacy."
"Of course I won't. Someone else will. Someone else wears my scars. And I want that to end today."
Then, he finally allowed himself to sigh openly.
"You're still young, little one. You're feeling brave. Like nothing is impossible. But some things are." He gestured towards the closet. "So stop wasting my time."
"I can give you what you want."
Ah, little girl…
"What do you know about what I want?" the Russian inquired in a worn-out tone. "What do you even know about me? Leave now and consider yourself lucky that I -"
"A baby," Eva broke in.
In Moscow, cutting off your superior always earned you a good slap. Still, that moment, despite himself, Ivan just wouldn't move, his melancholy unexpectedly overshadowed by interest.
"You claim you visit prisons but instead, you go to orphanages. You tell everybody you're working out while sitting on benches and staring at playgrounds. And now the wardrobe full of baby stuff. You want a child. An heir. I can give you one."
He said nothing, just contemplated her in a purely expressionless way - a perfect cover for those rare times when some stray emotions happened to make their way to his core. Truth be told, quite a few just had.
"Moldova's too young and there's no way Hungary would ever let you close enough, much less Georgia. But I am here. Almost eighteen. Untouched. And perfectly healthy. First class gene pool, what with my central position and all those nations mixing at my place. And I know you like me. A perfect mother for a perfect heir, don't you think? A son, strong as a god and talented in countless ways! Or a daughter, untouchable in her wisdom and supreme beauty. Everyone will know them, love them and fear them." With their eyes still locked, she untied the knee-long cardigan, then let it slide down her naked arms, suddenly standing there in nothing more than a light summer dress. The one that always made him look at her a split second longer than necessary.
"What do you say, Ivan?" She smiled, playfully raising her brow while tilting her head sideways.
For a while, he said nothing, just held her gaze. Then, bit by bit, his features relaxed until a tiny smile graced his lips.
"Eva."
His voice speaking her name sent a shiver down the girl's spine.
"I can't give him his freedom, that's not in my power. Nonetheless, I can promise you no more violence. And a considerable improvement for his life and work conditions. Is that acceptable?"
The Slovak nodded.
"Good." He patted the spot next to him. "Now come here."
-END OF CHAPTER 29-
