A week after Ivan left and six days after Boris was captured from both parts.
* •
China
November 10th
1958
The house was in great condition for extremely old construction. Toris never had a talent with his hands with fixing non-living things, howbeit he accomplished many things in the house like cleaning the whole place.
The living room was an oriental compartment with traditions spilling from the walls almost as a nauseating aspect. There even was a bathroom decorated in red lotus flowers. The kitchen was the finest place with all kinds of things useful for cooking anything from the simplest to the most sophisticated. He followed Ivan's advice, went to the basement and he found the larger room he has ever seen like it was a ballroom, but with boxes at every centimetre of the ground. They were filled with products that can be used on a battlefield or on the Apocalypse. Toris didn't know how to cook, so he was satisfied with eating rations and drinking water made with the rain by a device on the window.
He was resentful of going to the rooms because it seemed a little disrespectful, but his curiosity was bigger and he started to study the second floor. All the rooms were in a traditional Asian style with the beds on the floor and doors that you trudge when you open it. The first room was decorated with maps, items for gambling and it seemed like someone that really enjoyed the sea lived there a long time ago since every space was decorated with dust, blue and waves. There was an old aquarium with nothing but whiffs from aquatic existence. There were glasses next to the wardrobe with traditional clothes and a Portuguese symbol painted on the wall. The second room was covered with cute things, especially inside the wardrobes and drawers. Cats, pandas, flowers, bunnies, etc. Objects and clothes with adorable details copying Japanese style were the only sights. There was a sad thing, though. A wheelchair next to the large mirror in a painful vision to whoever is human. The third room was empty as a new hotel room, but there was a slight recognition that somebody lived there on the marks on the walls and the floor. The fourth was empty too, but there was a small toy train next to an old and clean bed on the floor. The last room was filled with books in different alphabets, clothes saved next to the bed and a board with Chinese handwriting. Toris was bored and grabbed one dictionary English/Mandarin on the books. He read the inscription and took a long time to figure something.
You can hide in here. I know you love to hide.
Aru.
The Lithuanian was confused. He didn't understand that. Perhaps, he translated wrongly.
At the moment, Toris was staring at the snow on the graveyard in the back garden. The two of them had names in Mandarin, so he was dying with curiosity.
The wind was nice and peaceful to the Earth and he thought about Feliks and Lithuania. He sang a song he used to sing to the Polish before bed. Palangos jūroj felt right in front of the window to the room with all the sea's references.
He heard steps behind him.
Toris turned to face the sound and held the first weapon he was able to find, which was snow. He stared at two men standing at the entrance of the garden and noticed the snow was useless against actual weapons. One of the men was wearing a green uniform, one of them had some kind of kerchief that Toris knew belonged to Arabic people and the other was proud with a weird mask. The shortest was wearing a khaki uniform. Both of them had dark skin between their eyes.
He backed away from the figures.
"Toris Laurinaitis?"
He waited to feel the tension that wasn't a pattern to be felt. He only feels that agony when Ivan is near, howbeit this time he doesn't have a deal to protect himself. Toris was confused at what language he should speak to those strangers. English? Lithuanian? The three words in Russian that he knew?
"пожалуйста, не убивай меня."
"I don't speak that." The guy answered in English and Toris almost laid on the ground with relieve. He wasn't going to die in the hands of a Soviet. "Do you speak English? Perhaps, Turkish? I know a little bit of Arabic like 'Fuck me harder.'"
He said something in Arabic in a loud moan. Toris was startled at that because minutes ago he was expecting to be killed now this guy seemed to be a teenager joking with moans.
"Well... I'm Toris and I speak English."
"Bok!" The man exclaimed and it sounded like a curse. "Nobody speaks Turkish."
Toris was still sitting on the ground, howbeit he stood up, but didn't attempt to run. They weren't Russians, so perhaps Ivan sent them which was deadly controversial. He was still aware if he had to run.
"Who are you?"
The guy fixed his mask even though it wasn't falling.
"My name is Sadik Adnan. This is the replacement of my dogs and its name is Gupta Muhammad Hassan. He only speaks Arabic once in a thousand years, so ignore him. He also speaks a little bit of Turkish now, but, apparently, you don't." He replied and Toris couldn't stop staring at his mask and how tall he was. As for Gupta, he appeared to be extraordinarily mysterious. "We are here in the name of Edelweiss. Everyone knows what it's needed but does nothing and blah blah blah. We came to rescue you from Russians and other demons you might also have. Gupta is a therapist. Howbeit, I'll be your translator like... Gupta, I have a dream where vultures with feathers similar to the Greek flag eat my skull. I'm still learning Arabic, but I can do mimics."
Toris blinked to Sadik doing a mimic of a bird croaking some word in another language. It was bizarre how the man inhaled and exhale something pure and deep like a soul and he looked like he was the one negotiating yours. Gupta was the complete opposite. Nevertheless, he reminded Toris of one of Feliks' greatest quotes.
Rely on people if they have the presence of mountains. According to geography, they are eternal.
"What is Edelweiss?"
The day was set and it matched Sadik's confidence to make an animosity. His mask was strange yet beautifully matching his energy.
"We are a secretive organization that helps refugees and innocents in war zones. Basically, we take people that don't choose the conflict out of it. Pretty fucking amazing." He explained when the sky was an orange tone and the snow was still thick on the dirty ground. His face was serious behind the mask. "You are on our list because you are a part of our ex-European leader's last wish."
"European leader?"
The guy with the mask was probably smiling, howbeit it was difficult to tell.
"Feliks Łukasiewicz."
That name. The name of the boy who started to talk to Toris because he was the only one at the orphanage who was willing to help the Polish kid with mimics and classes, despise his social anxiety and weird dresses. The boy with the green eyes, the fixation on ponies and the difficulty of meeting new people. He was the son of parents too occupied saving the world to take care of him and he was too busy being a writer without writing. They spent nights playing in whispered games; days walking around Vilnius and gazing at the lovely capital and singing songs. Toris lost his family and the Polish brought it back with time, but Toris never considered Feliks a brother as he considered Eduard and Raivis. He was the rain cleaning the dirty window; something natural washing the dirty. He disappeared to become an architect after Toris became a doctor and they met again when Eduard and Raivis were already in his life. It was like meeting the person he tried to be all his life in the mirror. The Polish was drawing amazing buildings using his words into structures, wearing dresses the way he has always wanted and he was fighting against the system killing his people. Why did Feliks kill himself? What made him shot his amazing mind filled with thoughts dignified to stories, even if he has to overcome his laziness to write them?
"How do you know Feliks?"
"I don't know him personally, you know? He was kind of a legend between our group located in Asia." Sadik replied approaching the Lithuanian with a careless walk. "He has a surprise for you somewhere else and the Europeans have been looking your ass everywhere to give it to you."
Toris was breathless.
"Nonetheless, you need to come with us or you are going to get killed."
•
At the moment, remembering his friend, Toris' sentiment was like being the verge of an arrow that was aiming, so he wasn't listening carefully. He was too busy having a heart attack. Although he noticed Sadik grabbing a bottle with a Turkish flag as a label and drinking long sips. They were sitting on the stairs of Yao's house since the strangers wanted to watch to the sunset seemingly. Gupta was reading a large book in Arabic, but he seemed to be listening to every word because, every time Sadik told something about him or something important, he would stop reading and gaze at them with an intense glare. Toris never had contact with people so different before. Now he was trusting a Soviet that was supposed to murder him and two homeless travellers that wear traditional camouflages.
"It's too much information..." Toris mumbled in his defence with everything they told about some organisation called Edelweiss. "What do you mean 'kill?'"
"Soviets might come here, you know? We are gonna get you to Amsterdam after the sun is down."
"Netherlands?" Toris exclaimed holding the stairs. "Wait... What about my brothers? You said you save innocent people and they are completely innocent."
Sadik stopped drinking and turned to gave Toris a glare. Gupta was just watching them like a jackal with his book open. Somehow both of them were matching energy to make the Lithuanian nervous.
"My brothers." Toris repeated before the mask was more confused. He was trying to ignore how intense were Gupta's eyes on him. "Ivan is going to rescue them from a Gulag."
Sadik took the mask off. Toris was startled at how mature he looked for a man moaning a few moments ago. He seemed tired and something about him was dangerously hidden. His clothes were a mixture of Arabic and Turkic stereotypes with lots of neutral colours.
"Who the fucking fuck is Ivan?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure if he knows either." The Lithuanian declared openly and snickered in a nervous way. "He is a Soviet. He is Russian."
The Turkish was shocked for a moment and Toris missed the mask hidden his outrageously displayed emotions. He was very expressive. Even Gupta closed his book and saved on his backpack with other thousand of books that looked exactly the same and watched them with awareness. The sun was a distant glimpse hiding on the mountains and the wind was tickling their clothes. Compared to their peculiar clothes, Toris felt simple in his lazy suit; basically a rag with red buttons. He was hating the heavy silence.
"It's a lovely morning, isn't?"
Sadik snickered.
"Wait, wait! Man, you are definitely something, aren't you? You were the family of the leader of a hidden organization, trusts Soviets to save your brothers from prisons and also accomplished medicine school. Damn! A Soviet is taking your brothers out of a Soviet Prison? This doesn't make much sense, right, Gupta?"
The Egyptian rolled his eyes to the Turkish.
"It's complicated." Toris answered and ignored Gupta frowning. He shouldn't be able to understand English, right? Toris was uncomfortable. "I think he needs this to make his guilty more bearable or something. He has anxiety."
Something, slightly extraordinary, beamed in Sadik's eyes. Something close to understanding or Toris was seeing several traces of humanity in simple human things.
"Another one. Are going to try to save this one, Gupta?" He exclaimed and laughed. The man looked at his friend as if Gupta was the twilight. He turned to face Toris when the other rolled his eyes once more. "Well, tell me more about you. You must be an interesting little shit. Do you like dogs?"
Toris cleaned his throat as if he was going to give an important speech to Lithuania.
"I love dogs."
"Ve ben seni seviyorum! Duydun mu Gupta? Köpekleri sever! Bu turu kazandım!"
Toris wondered if he should assert one more time he doesn't speak Turkish.
"Before you start to tell me about yourself, tell me about this Soviet. Don't like them. Do you like them?"
"No, I guess... Well, I met Ivan in the United States where he was supposed to kill me. But he didn't want to kill people. So he used me as a spy inside the walls of the CIA to share the information he wanted and don't tell them about the experiment I was involved. I basically traded secret information with him in boxes for a month without seeing the guy's face. All because the Americans were fooling me to help them."
"I hate those Americans." Sadik commented with a sigh. "Gupta, how much time until gods destroy those assholes?"
Gupta just stared at him.
"This is a little wrong to say out loud, Sadik..." Toris replied with a nervous voice and sweating. He imagined if Sadik was going to fight him. "I didn't hear from him for days. Perhaps, I won't hear for him for weeks. I don't know."
The wind was the only sound for a second. The Lithuanian tried to find anything to break the silence. A minute of silence was too long and lonely to bear.
"Where did you live in Turkey?"
"I have questions. Firstly, he was supposed to kill you? He is a spy apparently, isn't he? A Soviet spy in America? Apparently, these cases are not just American paranoia about the red bad guys. Secondly, which experiment were you involved?"
Toris gulped. He thought about the research they started to question him about. He was making a psychological experiment for his medicine college using prisoners during the First Great War. He started to make whole paperwork about the psychology and the body dealing with trauma. When his teacher told him that research was useless for science, Toris published everything on an official scientific magazine and received thousands of responses. Some saying he was crazy, some agreeing with him and some asking for help. But the one who called his attention was one from USSR's military.
When the Soviets basically forced him to work with them, they were interested in his research, although they obligated him to hypothetical training as if his thesis were already a fact. Toris was supposed to implement sickness in someone's mind or try to find ways to implement their psyche into something vulnerable to orders. So Toris created a mind game in which the result would be complete loyalty or insanity. All the steps to trap someone like they have nowhere to go. He didn't know what he was doing, but he was happy he wasn't actually doing that horrible game with someone real. He also was afraid to get killed.
"Just a psychiatric thesis I had during college. I don't think they took things seriously."
"Okay. I think you and Gupta are going to get along. He is a psychologist, you know? Very good. Tell me about your brothers, then."
Toris beamed at the thought of Raivis' warm words and Eduard's bright smiles following him around. How they were exactly the opposite of broken when they were close to each other as if the world could throw anything at them, nonetheless, getting home was going to cure them. Living together felt like having a safe place away from all the lonely silence Toris dealt all his life. Raivis was always speaking about school after he gets home. Usually, he tripped somewhere or he was the best at the history test because his brother is always talking about Lithuania. Eduard would speak in a different language about calculus and Toris would pretend to understand anything. It took him seven years to realize Eduard was always speaking numbers in Estonian when he talked about that because he didn't learn numbers in Lithuanian.
"I used to live in the orphanage with Feliks, but he ran away after we were fourteen years old. I have always wondered why he didn't ask me to go with him. Well, Eduard appeared around the same time." He explained remembering seeing Feliks' bed empty and a boy wearing glasses putting a backpack in it and talking Estonian. He was sent there because the police department didn't know what to do with a thirteen years old Estonian running from home, nonetheless, refusing to tell the address of his old house. "We didn't like each other at first, but we grew to like each other without noticing. One time I stopped and noticed he was every part of my routine. When we were eighteen, we were friends. Leaving each other would hurt immeasurably."
He stopped for a second.
"I had to leave him because I was going to college to study medicine. Meanwhile, he became an accountant in a small company. When I came back from the war, the business was destroyed and he was working for a bigger company, but with fewer benefits. We started to live together since we didn't have money enough to live alone. And we missed each other. But he was making a lot of money and I was also making a lot of money and we have never had any money so we didn't know what to do with that. We decided to become godparents of an orphan like us. Raivis was our brother at first sight. It was like we were always waiting for him. We became friends and visited him constantly until he got adopted when he was ten years old. We were sad, but we were happy for him because the orphanage wouldn't allow two single men living together to take an orphan home. One day when he was thirteen, he just appeared at our door and said he didn't have elsewhere to go. We never asked what happened. We just brought him under our wing again. We became a family. It was around 1955 when I encountered Feliks again. Even Raivis and Eduard liked him, I think. I was so happy. Even when he told me what he was doing with the Soviet pressure in Lithuania. I mean, it was brave, but he could be killed and then..."
Sadik sighed with empathy. Even Gupta seemed to connect with them with his curious eyes.
"And he shot himself last year. Very sad for the story, right?" The Turkish completed questioning. "Which Gulag is Eduard and Raivis at? Perhaps, we can help you. There are plenty of us in Gulags around the region."
Toris didn't know which Gulag and Sadik must have seen it because he pressed his lips in an expressive way.
"You are going to die if you stay here. The Soviets could already be here as far as we know."
"I don't care. Ivan won't be able to reach me if I'm not here. I need to see my brothers even if the chances they are alive are small. I don't have anything to lose besides my life; I want them back!"
Sadik went next to Gupta. They stared at each other as if they were chatting in a silent way. Toris stared when Gupta took his balaclava off. His dark skin was matching the sunset and the wind bells were blowing beautifully. He had the face someone would think is adorable with a curved nose and thin lips with designed eyes. He was still hiding his hair, however. Toris already saw Muslim women doing this, nonetheless, Gupta seemed favourable to do the same thing as them. The Turkish seemed to understand that silent communication when he gazed at the Lithuanian.
"Gupta wants to stay here. It's been a long time since we slept in beds and we had something to eat every day. If anyone comes here we only have our lives to lose, right? It's worthy for a little comfort, right, Gupta? But Kalyan is sending a truck for us to work in Mauritania next year." He declared proudly and the Lithuanian flinched at the thought. Another silent house to be trapped in. "Who are the ones buried behind there where we found you? I can't understand Chinese."
Sadik laid his head in Gupta's lap. He grabbed something in his pocket. It was the red bottle with a moon and a star. He drank more and Toris wondered if that liquid was eternal.
"Me neither."
Gupta said something in Arabic.
"He asked you something." The Turkish explained seriously. Toris gesticulated for the translation. "Did you bury Feliks?"
The Lithuanian stopped. He stared at Gupta's clean look. His eyes were painted with some kind of black makeup and they were almond as the rest of his skin. After looking at it with care, the Lithuanian noticed they had traces of green in them. Something in his newly discovered brown-green eyes was thoughtful. It took some time to Toris recognize his make up, but he thought about the makeup in his storybooks telling about old Pharaohs and Egyptian gods. It looked like those pictures. Since he was also hiding his hair, Toris thought he looked a lot like one.
"We didn't have time to... Deal with his body. Although he wanted his body to left in Poland. He wanted to feed the animals of his land at least."
"What the fuck?" Sadik exclaimed looking at the sun. "Very Dakhma!"
"Feliks wanted every component in life to be a fairy tale. He wanted poetry in every detail." He responded remembering the anxious feeling he felt when he tried to hug Feliks' corpse. That question made him miserable. "I don't know what they did with his body."
Sadik translated and Gupta said something in Arabic. Toris wanted to ask, but he felt like he should only listen to strange words.
"It's okay, Toris." The Turkish answered from Gupta's lap. "It's not the first time."
"A suicide happens?"
"A corpse left to rot without peace." Sadik answered glancing at Gupta. "Let me tell some histories, Arkadaşı."
Sadik didn't seem like someone that can keep a secret or maintain a silent atmosphere - the Lithuanian was delighted. An hour since they met, Toris already knew that the Turkish went to jail for murder. He killed because he thought he was doing the right thing for his country, nevertheless, he didn't explain how due to a deep shame in his semblance. When the Lithuanian flinched and strolled away, Sadik smiled at his reaction after his testimony.
"There is not a day I don't regret who I was. I was shit, man." He answered drinking the bottle and Gupta watched him. Perhaps, that bottle was empty all the time. "I was a horrible soul and I'm still a horrible soul. Once a really wise person said that there are no villains that should be punished or heroes that should be forgiven. The plan has never been about judging, but explaining why I got myself so low. Not as an excuse, but as a direction we should learn to avoid. I can be used as a bad example, at least, can't I?"
Sadik was very fluid about his emotions and unpredictability in his words. You never know what he was going to say; if he is going to say wise words or make fart sounds with his lip. Toris didn't respond at first and he wondered if those were things spoken by Gupta. He thought about every person with deep care after that sentence. Those words came in a heavy accent in English and from a stranger, yet they were genuine as the water falling in microscopic drops from the sky on the late hour. Someway Sadik seemed deeply wise while talking about Gupta. According to the Turkish, if women have to cover their hair, he is covering his hair too. He also likes to think about the Pharaohs that used to hide their hair to appear like gods. Sadik also sounded like he was talking about a god or a reincarnation when talking about his friend. Gupta was born in Egypt, however, he went to Turkey because his mother died and he had family in Ankara. The family was living with another three families in the same terrain with two rooms and one of those families was Sadik's.
"One day Gupta sat next to me on the roof. I like sunsets. Every night I was there petting my dog, plotting robberies to do next day and being alone. Then this weird African guy sits next to me. It was past midnight and I walked away from him. He came the next night. And the next night. Next night. Next. I wouldn't lose my spot so I tried to kick him out, but he basically kicked my ass without kicking my ass and I accepted he was better than me in the fighting without the fighting. Better at kicking ass, you know? We sat together all nights and we didn't talk since he didn't speak Turkish and I didn't speak Arabic. Fucking difficult language. He reads the Quran; I pet my dog. Very dignified friendship, right? Except Gupta prefers cats and I don't think Cleopatra was that big of a shit. I tried to learn Arabic in secret so I could talk to him because I was a sentimental douchebag before I killed a man for the first time. That guy was just mysterious and I want to ask him to fuck off with cleverness. What a good friend I was, right? I said 'Salaam' like a douchebag once and he basically stayed by my side like a puppy for fucking eternity. Saving me from who I was and being the only friend I had in my entire life." He explained, looked at Gupta and Toris didn't think Sadik is annoyed. He appeared at peace looking at the Egyptian. "He wrote to me every day in prison, you know? Very sentimental. But the idiots didn't allow me to read. So when there was a riot, I found the letters in some office. I read every one. He learned Turkish just to write to me. I started to rob every Quran I found in prison for him, then. There were thousands, seriously. Islam is very popular, don't you think? I ran from there with other prisoners during another riot now I'm here saving people from prisons. I can be a less terrible guy now that I have Gupta and I'm not an alcoholic anymore, right?"
He brought his backpack close. There were thousands of papers inside it. Toris thought about the books in Gupta's backpack.
"I kept every one of Gupta's letters. What a romantic guy, don't you agree?" He started. "I can never come back to my dear country because I am a fucking criminal. I don't miss Turkey. Fuck that shit. I miss all the stray dogs that walk around Istanbul."
The Lithuanian smiled sadly.
"I can't come back to my country either. I wonder where I will go after this."
"I know where we will go." Sadik announced with a beam and gazing at the sunset. "When we are tired of putting our lives at risk, Gupta and I will go to Egypt to live a peaceful life. We won't be living like homeless people like we are now. We won't be searching for food and water in lost places but giving it to people who need it more. I can open a Turkish restaurant and Gupta can save lives from mental illnesses. I will always give food to beggars, cook some good shit and have a hundred dogs. That simple. I want to die there. We started in Turkey we will end in Egypt. It's fair, isn't it?"
He drank the bottle.
The Lithuanian nodded with his head whilst embracing the sun as a friend in his skin. He was skinner than before and his eyes were deeper in his skull. He was wearing clothes he never thought he would. He was wearing a name that was everything he should hate. And he was caring for murderers and a ghost. All foreigners.
"You are cool for a European, Toris."
"Turkey is in Europe."
"As a European, I don't like Europeans."
"Do you like any nationality?"
"Everyone is shit. I only like dogs."
Once in a lifetime, Toris felt safe.
•
Kazakhstan
November 18th
1958
At first, he needed to be certain nobody was watching. The second he thought he was alone, he started to repeat the things he was saying all the time for himself
It's going to end. You will leave soon. All the things that are happening here are good for your country development. You should be proud to make part of it.
He hugged himself while repeating those words in his mind whilst his chest was pumping and he felt like he was suffocating.
Spending time there was supposed to be easy, nonetheless, he was feeling miserable. That place was crowded for sleeping, eating - If there was anything to eat at all -, work, even torture. Ivan fainted from exhaustion one day and the guard compelled him to spend three nights without sleeping. He spent time awake with another six people in a tiny dirty room. He didn't want to remember the minutes and the horrible things that happened in that chamber. When he came back he was sent to more labour and with an enormous quota of production. He was keeping the chocolate on a secret hidden place on the wall. A place where only a few people could reach due to height. It reminded him of the hideout on Gilbert's storage, but he was deadly paranoid every day about someone finding it. He kept Nora's chocolate to eat a piece every time he thinks he is going to faint on the ground again.
After he had time to think, Ivan washed his face using the snow on the ground which allowed his despair to be a little less freezing when something else was freezing. Then he placed a hand through his skull without a single strand of hair. Passing the fingertips in the pointy edges of the growing hair was fun. Ivan was lucky since his eyes seemed blue when seeing from a certain distance so he wasn't being recognized by the guards. He also spoke in a Kazakh accent, was afraid of guns and had two daughters in Astana which he implored for in his torture. He was another person as always. Even if his name was basically numbers on that place.
He was ready to sleep now that his face was washed after someone was shot next to him and drops of blood covered his skin. The prisoners were filtered in a line that morning. Ivan was in the middle trying to blend in with the other prisoners he was working mercilessly beside. The guard asked "Who stole a weapon from the guards?" and someone raised from the ground. It was the man next to Ivan. The guard asked where the gun was, howbeit the man spoke in Kazakh. The guard shot him without ceremony. They can't speak a language besides Russian.
The Russian crawled into the windows he became to know well and entered the space he was dividing with a hundred people. That place smelled terrible, it was crowded to the top, the beds were bare rocks and the only blankets were in the hands of stronger men who won't share. Ivan didn't even found a bed or a blanket for him. He could fight someone for it, but he was leaving. They weren't.
"Russia?"
In that place, he was Russia to Taalay, Eduard and Raivis and 852351 to the guards. He missed being Ivan so much he held bitter tears just by hearing that. He cleaned his face with violence.
The voice belonged to Taalay. She was virtually teaching him everything he had to know in order to appear an old prisoner of the Gulag. He was working until his muscles were screaming and his bones were heavier than his skin. His hands were covered in cuts like Eduard's. Building a road to his country should be an honour, but Ivan was almost fainting with a feeling in his chest like rocks bringing him to the ground.
"Taalay."
He glanced behind him to face a crowd and the Kyrgyz trying to walk between the people. She was the kind of person that would turn destroyed things into magic especially an old dirty rag like her hijab. She was close to him on the corridor when he noticed her astonished gaze at him screaming pity.
"What?"
"It's been long since Raivis, Eduard and I had seen you. We were worried." She affirmed and Ivan recalled Raivis running at his direction with a smile and a few words in defective Russian. "You lost weight... Even if you are still large like Aizhan. What happened to your eyes? Did they compel you to stay awake? I am sorry."
"What do you want?"
It was dark when she strolled at him. She was wearing the prisoner's clothes like they were comfortable and the boots like they weren't useless against the deadly frostbite. He was angry at her. How can she accept that place? That place was hell. Taalay offered him a piece of bread from her own bread. Ivan accepted as if he was a hungry dog, although he was being treated like one.
"Eduard told me you didn't find a bed or a mattress of your own."
He was sleeping on the ground for eight days.
"So what?"
"Want to share mine with me?"
If the circumstances were different, Ivan would have denied at the same second because sleeping was hard for him. He used to sleep on the ground in a twisted manner in which he would close his eyes for a few minutes and wake up shaking and speaking in Russian to the shadows in his dream. There was a time he woke up, spent a whole day on the Gulag to wake up at the same place and realize it was merely a nightmare. He started to question reality after this. One day he woke up with a woman trying to steal his boots. He gave them to her because he wasn't going to stay there for the same time as her. So having a mattress was a luxury he couldn't deny.
He laid next to Taalay in a destroyed mattress and it was a comfort he didn't know how much he was missing. He slept immediately.
•
It was hard for Taalay to think about herself. No one has ever taught her how to think. Or about herself.
She woke up when he started to scream and kick the air. It was hard to look at him and don't remember the way he looked while killing someone and covering the body with snow. It didn't look like the first time he executed someone. How can a person save someone with that courage yet kill that easily? She noticed when his eyes were open and watched whilst he hugged his knees. He started to cry lowly as if he didn't care if she was next to him. Maybe he forgot about her. Or no. This was something she discovered about Russia when he started to live there. He didn't care if people were watching him show his emotions especially when he was broken. People were scared of him because he was big and scary. So he would break and nobody would have the courage to mock him.
"I admire you are allowing yourself to be weak."
He raised his eyes at her. His eyes were red for the tears and his mouth was trembling like a child.
"I don't usually do this. But this is going to end and I can control everything again."
He sounded almost obvious that when he leaves that place he is going to control every aspect of his life. Taalay wondered if she was going to be certain about her future when she leaves. Leaving was hard. When she was a child she has never imagined the world was bigger than Karlag. She thought that place was all there it was. Nevertheless, someone told her about countries, oceans and art. Now she was drawing the things she imagined in the decaying white ink of the walls of her prison. But leaving was scary. Very scary.
"Mariam told me once that when you talk about yourself on a personal level, the other people also feel the freedom to talk about themselves." She whispered to Russia. He just stared her with tears rolling down his cheek. "If I told you about me, will you tell me about you?"
Russia didn't respond. She accepted as a yes.
"My life began when I met her. She was the one that taught me about Islam and made me question my existence as I have never considered something worthy of curiosity. I used to think my reality wasn't for questioning. I should be thankful I was working with the clothing work and was alive since birth. I should be thankful people were pitting me enough to give me things like bread, a bed and sometimes even a blanket. Every soul here knows I am the only person who was born here and I am a miracle to some of them. I survived so they must survive too. I was happy here. Until a girl named Mariam Parvana came from Afghanistan. I don't why she was in Karlag distant from her home. She has never told me. She would only appear to me at night. She started to be more than one extra decayed face. She was amazing. She used to tell me about the religion with stories. Always stories. She would tell a whole story about a stretch on the wall or a drawing she would show me on the ground. She has already been to Kyrgyzstan thus she was describing the place for me with stories she invented. She was a storyteller. She meant everything to me because I wasn't a miracle or a hope to her; I was a misery. She was selfless enough to look at me without thinking about herself. Mariam saved me from being numb about my own life. She made me want to go to Kyrgyzstan and save the people who find hope in my survival."
"Then why aren't you leaving this place with us?"
She hesitated and glanced at him.
"I need to save everyone here first." She answered with comfort. "This ideal and my religion are what keeps me sane."
"Islam is the only reason you get tortured here, right? This is not a religion, Taalay, this is self-harm. No matter if it was a god in person that taught you to do it." He exclaimed with an emotionless voice and she was scared of him. "Don't you know better? They can kill you for this behaviour. They just didn't do it because you are keeping people in order. They work because they think they can survive like you to see freedom one day. Don't you feel trapped?"
Taalay lowered her head and hugged her bones she called knees. She didn't know any better. She didn't know how to read or write. She couldn't invent stories like Mariam or be smart like Aizhan. Her mind was limited to the fences she watched all her life.
"You talk like Aizhan. She used to say hijab or chador or burqa are a prison to women. But I don't think this way. I think the real prison is behind the burqa." She explained placing her hands on her mouth. She was stealing Mariam's words, however, she didn't feel guilty as if they were her own. "Whether I am in the orient being seen as fragile glass or I am in the occident being seen as a wasted prize; whether they are obligating me to hide my hair or coercing me to show my body; whether I am useful to have children or only to make the process of it for pleasure. In the end, I am still trapped by my own body because they are never going to see a woman as an equal. We are always two extremes and never the in-between where we are humans. This is the real prison. Not the words from my Father Allah."
He stayed quiet and glancing at her with something similar to empathy. Then Taalay felt free to speak the words of her own instead of Mariam's speech she kept on her memory as gold.
"Russia, I don't know what the real world looks like. I don't know my real name because Taalay is something Mariam used to call me; before that, my name was only 19123. I don't know why I am here. I didn't know anything since I was brought here by who-knows-who and stayed in the Kyrgyz section half of my life. I don't even know if I'm Kyrgyz. I don't remember anything and how could I? I was probably a baby. I grew up in this horrible place. But I was glad Mariam was here. I was glad I could fight this horrific place without hurting anyone, but with something amazing as religion. I can't lose it! It's important to me. I love Allah and Islam and I will follow them wherever I am. This is all I have left from everything. I can't lose it too."
Russia blinked at her before passing his tongue on his mouth. He seemed to be preparing his words and he reached for an invisible thing on his neck. She glanced again at the scar she has only noticed a few days ago when he was shirtless because he gave it to someone and he was asking for another because he was cold.
In a second, he left the mattress.
Taalay searched through her words to understand if she said something wrong and she came to the conclusion she was guilty of making him uncomfortable. She shouldn't beg for stories anymore. No one was like Mariam. Only Aizhan, but they couldn't talk every day. Why was she looking for Mariam in everyone? She just misses her.
The Kyrgyz was a little astonished when Russia returned. He laid in front of her again and delivered something to her.
"My name is Ivan. This is the only truth I can tell you; the rest is lost, or dead or betrayed me."
She smiled.
"Can you tell me about the world in your eyes, Ivan?"
"It's not going to be stories or optimistic things."
"I want to hear sincere words. Can you be sincere with me?"
Something small glowed in his violet eyes and Taalay knew he didn't hate her.
"Okay."
* •
Mariam Parvana = Mariam is the name of the main character from Khaled Hosseini's book A Thousand Splendid Suns. In the book, she is an illegitimate daughter from a rich man and lives in a small hut outside the town. Her mother always says her dad is the worst but, as a child, Mariam loves her father deeply. She even asked him to take her to the cinema he owns on her birthday, nonetheless, he didn't show. Mariam decides to search for him in the city letting her bitter mother alone and that is the point where her life changes drastically. She is an amazing character that suffered so much and was strong as a rock in the riverbed. I really think about Aph Afghanistan being just like her. Khaled Hosseini (the author) is my favourite writer and he is amazing. He is Afghan then he wrote books about his homeland and he is an official help to refugees in Syria. He has several ONG's and even a book about the refugees. Parvana is the name of the character from The Breadwinner by Deborah Ellis. In the book, she lives with her father, mother and her three siblings in Cabul. She used to have another sibling, Hossain, but he died and her mother doesn't tell this story. Her father is a teacher and he teaches her history, how to read and how to write. Everything changes when he goes to jail merely for having studied in England.
Well, Mariam Parvana is aph Afghanistan. Imagine her face long, her skin almond, her lip having the leporine condition and her eyes a dark brown. I imagine her being completely gentle with people and rebelling against things ironically. I imagine a really damaged story for her, but I imagine she is bitterly kind to everyone because of it. Haunted lives; kind words. She is also an amazing singer and storyteller. Afghanistan is my favourite country in the world. I wouldn't make a story without a part of it in my words or characters.
"We didn't have time to... Deal with his body. Although he wanted his body to left in Poland. He wanted to feed the animals of his land at least."
"What the fuck?" Sadik exclaimed looking at the sun. "Very Dakhma."
A Dakhma, also known as the Tower of Silence, is a circular, raised structure built by Zoroastrians for excarnation - that is, for dead bodies to be exposed to carrion birds, usually vultures. They would basically feed the butchers. All because in their religion the elements can't be dirt with the rests of human beings. So they can't bury or burn the body because it would defame earth or fire, respectively. This is practised mostly in Nepal.
Sorry if Sadik is a little xenophobic, but I don't agree with him in anything, I promise you. It's just the way his character is. I prefer to avoid telling his past and he was a terrible person really.