The first part is the continuation of that letter from Vietnam on the penultimate chapter. The second part is around the same time, however, you must recall the time that Basch and Elizabeta met Boris. It was in 1962. He had five years but did it in three. Good one, Boris.
* •
Vietnam
August 30th
1964
Basch was finally accomplishing this time. Finally. He was leaving the hotel for minutes before people started to mess with him on the streets. First, a few insults in which he was getting accustomed. Then some men started to follow him and they started to run after the street was empty. They would beat him without any sympathy and leave him bleeding on the sidewalk if they catch him. The Swiss sprinted alongside the motorcycles, people and beggars with the ferocity to avoid another bruise. People watched him. He entered a small Chinese restaurant in order to avoid the men chasing him.
Then the owner expelled him screaming he didn't want "his kind" in that establishment. Basch rolled his eyes since he didn't know how to speak Vietnamese to explain to the man that he just wanted a refuge. In years studying the language every day for hours he can only understand people speaking in Vietnamese rather than talking back. He walked away from the restaurant and he was happy he didn't see the men who were chasing him.
Basch decided to enjoy his luck.
He hid his blonde hair in his hat and tried to look down. His clothes were a uniform Roderich made for him using old retails and rugs. The Austrian was very talented although Basch would never admit it. He was feeling more uncomfortable than a person should feel with the weather, howbeit he couldn't bring himself to show his skin and enjoy the air in it. Basch was beaten several times for him being white in Vietnam and they used to explain "He is displaying too much skin" and he wanted to avoid it. He felt manipulated, low and voiceless. He was trying to fit in a pattern his oppressors wanted him to fit to avoid suffering. There wasn't supposed to have embarrassment in not rebelling, regardless he was still ashamed.
Basch was safe now, however.
That was his thought until he encountered the same men conversating a few blocks away from his position and they saw him. In a moment, he was sprinting back to the hotel as his life depended on getting there before they reach him. He didn't want another bruise. The floor was humid, he was sweating and he was sticking. He fell on the ground in a pound and attempted to keep running. He was sprinting again with discomfort another time.
Another day.
Nobody helped him.
He couldn't walk on those streets without people trying to crush his skull. He strolled through people with fast steps and ended up crashing in a tent letting the fish fall on the sidewalk. An old woman started to yell at him in Vietnamese.
"Xin lỗi."
Basch apologised glaring at the men sprinting in his direction. The woman pushed him with anger when he noticed what was happening in front of him.
People were staring at them and now they had a reason for arresting him. He shouldn't have given them a fucking reason. He needed to leave or he would earn people hurting him once again. He was sweating. His bruises were hurting.
He was back to sprint when he heard the men yelling things at him.
"Dừng lại, người nước ngoài!"
He heard steps behind him. He felt pain, but he didn't stop. They were close. The hotel was also close and Basch sensed his muscles stretching. He felt anguish. He heard another undefined shout before he fell. He used his own level to slid through the sidewalk until he strived to open the glass door. He almost fell another time and he harmed his hands before he opened the door and crawled until he was on the carpet.
It wasn't over.
Since he didn't have time to run up the stairs, Basch strolled through the basic yellowed furniture and reached the principal desk. It was tall enough for him to hide behind it. Sweating and panting, he placed a hand on his mouth so they couldn't hear him. He felt his heart pumping and a heavy feeling telling he was a coward. He flinched when the door was open another time. They started to search around the place and Basch felt his chest screaming. He curled into a ball behind the desk.
They are going to find me. Fuck! They are going to find me.
The suspense was living anguish when the air was filled with the men turning the furniture and turning over the place to find Basch. A single scoff and anger replenished the air. The door opened and closed. He was going to be alone, perhaps. He waited. Another second.
He panted loudly.
A hand yanked his clothes and in a moment he was on the floor amidst seven men with Vietnamese clothes and faces. He learned to recognize the patriotic. At first, they tried to scream accusations and Basch felt low as he couldn't respond in their language and speaking German would only irritate them more. Speaking Russian or English was definitely going to kill him. They were dragging him to leave the hotel.
He saw himself being quiet. A warrior with war and he chose to be neutral.
"What is happening in my lobby?" A voice in Vietnamese screamed and ricocheted the walls. Basch always thought that the woman had a voice similar to a bullet. The same thing that removed her limb from her body. "What are you doing?"
One man stood up. The same who was screaming mercilessly at Basch while the others were kicking him out of the hotel.
"Good afternoon. This man caused a tumult and panic among Vietnamese people. We are here to take him to justice."
Basch wanted to scream he was merely walking. However, he didn't remember how to say "walk" in Vietnamese. He was being chased down until he reaches an empty street and suffers beatings every day. Or they would find any motive to take him to the prison. He tried to buy things from sellers, however, they didn't want to sell him anything. He tried to ask for help, but only Bản Lĩnh helped him.
"This is ridiculous!" The woman screamed. She pointed around the lobby where furniture was destroyed and overturned. "Look at the mess you made in my hotel! You are causing tumult and I want you to leave now! If you try to call the police on him, you should call the police on yourselves."
The man tried to apologise. Nevertheless, the woman started to scream more about the youngster being disrespectful with the elders and how her country was havoc because of this modern generation. She was fierce; they didn't stand a chance. The men attempted to fix the tangle they created before they left with wide eyes on her and narrow eyes on Basch.
When the Swiss and the old woman were alone, she tried to help him get up. Even with her walking stick and her missing leg, she was helping him.
"Thank you, Bản Lĩnh." Basch thanked in English. He missed speaking his mind and being quiet in moments like those was frustrating. Since he couldn't show his anger, he felt sad. "I almost left the city this time."
Lies. He barely left the neighbourhood.
The woman sighed tiredly. The Swiss helped her to sit on the sofa the men turned over minutes ago.
"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I wish I could walk with you so people won't mess with you, regardless, I get tired just by standing because of my arthritis."
The Swiss thought she didn't even mention the lack of her left leg. That was because she would be able to crawl without her limbs as long as the rest of her body wasn't consumed by an external disease or the only thing that could stop the Vietnamese. The woman was smart, fearless and simple as her country.
"It's fine."
He wanted to thank her more, however, he didn't understand how so he sat on the floor beside her. Bản Lĩnh was similar to his grandmother in the way she would curl her back naturally and had the soft surface like the skin was as tired as her. The experience in her semblance was similar to a wave. Basch's grandmother was a Swiss with blonde hair and blue eyes while Bản Lĩnh had the same eyes from Tiên Huệ only more mat than hers. She had short hair in her head and a scar in her mouth. Basch never asked her what cause it and he didn't think he was able to. She spoke about her missing leg, however, she didn't mention her scar.
"But you weren't able to walk to meet your friend in two weeks you have been here."
The Swiss sighed and held his knees against his chest. He was hungry, but since he saw that Bản Lĩnh was giving the last pieces of food she had for him he pretends he isn't hungry most days. He was her first guest since the war took place in the DMZ. Foreigners stopped entering Vietnam and Vietnamese stopped crossing the zone. People stayed in home fearing for the day an aeroplane was going to drop chemicals and bombs in their heads.
"It's fine. My friend is strong." Basch replied feeling the bruises in his face hurting. "I don't think I have ever met someone stronger. Perhaps, one person."
He thought about Elise.
"Those racists should be ashamed of themselves."
A chuckle and thoughts about his travels smashed Basch. He spent a long time on the road with Tiên Huệ and when he spends a few time with Maxim and comfort in Switzerland he gets soft. He couldn't remember the last time he felt his belly that empty.
"I'm white and I saw racism." He explained and placed his hand on his forehead. He thought that man from Yaoundé. A nameless person that helped him and Tiên Huệ through all the African continent. He was a good man, but when he tried to walk with them around certain countries people would treat him like a criminal or a slave. And Basch could never decide which one was worse. All that intolerance because his skin was as black and as glowing as the starry sky in summer. Darker than Sadik's and Gupta's. When he, Tiên Huệ and Basch were exiled for a day because they tried to spread stories about slavery in Mauritania. Some men came back for them like they were trained to kill people who disobey and killed him in the process. Basch is never going to know his name. "Those men are close, but it's not as close."
It's only a small place in the world and a period of time around a thousand years of real racism against humans. No matter time or space, he was going to be attended well basically anywhere and anytime. His friend didn't even tell them his name because he was ashamed of it and he couldn't tell why.
"They are just bored and scared."
The Vietnamese placed a wrinkled hand on his blonde hair. She smiled and Basch couldn't help it but compare her to a dragon. Bản Lĩnh was always wearing red makeup and her vanity was glowing like fire.
He tried not to think about that man again.
"I will try to leave Hanoi again tomorrow."
"Oh, you don't have to endure persecution anymore. I think I have an idea for you to walk peacefully around Hanoi." She explained with her amazing English. "Look at the storage behind the desk. You will find it on the ground behind the boat."
Basch nodded with his head and raised from the ground with a painful groan.
He walked until he reached the rotten door behind the principal desk of the hotel. He pushed the door and heard the years Bản Lĩnh tried to clean the water that was brought by several floodings from going inside her hotel. The Red River was beautiful, but lower constructions suffered a little with it in the rainy days. Basch strolled on the storage feeling his bones protesting against his weight. He was a little shocked when he saw the carcass of a boat inside of it. There was a boat paddle in it that made Basch think about Tiên Huệ with a pressed lip. He tried to avoid looking at all the objects on shelters and the pictures on the wall. That place felt extremely personal.
Behind the destroyed boat there was a bamboo hat. People in Vietnam know that kind of hat as nón lá and Basch saw most of the people wearing it even when it wasn't a sunny day.
After a few days living with Bản Lĩnh, he learned several things about Vietnam and its people. He couldn't help it but feel that people who lived in that country were gentle and strong. They knew when to kick people out as they did with the Chinese and the French before the Americans started to mess with that land. Bản Lĩnh used to say it was a matter of time before her amazing people expel those harmful population from Vietnam. But they knew when to be gentle. Several times the old woman told Basch he shouldn't judge her Việt by the years of war and their difficulties that created monsters. He understood. He saw many amazing people losing themselves when the Great War started and they chose to commemorate discrimination. However, he watched most people in his country accommodating children from war places. Basch wouldn't blame the Vietnamese that chased him the same way he wouldn't blame the people by their leader's mistakes. He wouldn't blame himself. He was selfish most of his life. But neither Basch nor the people that damaged him and the people around him created this world. They only had to live in it.
He grabbed the hat with respect and wisdom he created in years. This adornment was something important for Vietnam's culture and history and he should honour it with his life.
He left the storage feeling the nostalgia from watching his life in a glimpse of a second. Basch placed the bamboo hat, an adornment with a string, in Bản Lĩnh's lap and she touched slightly since her vision wasn't the same from her younger years.
"This belonged to my wife. Ân Huệ." She explained with a nostalgic gaze as if she accepted the death of her love, but not the memories of her. Basch admired the trust she put in him when she told him this. "Now, we can make something that will allow you to walk here without prejudice."
They started to work.
Bản Lĩnh worked on the strings made with wool and wrapped around the hat with special glue. While she did that, Basch grabbed the scissors. He glared at the mirror and remembered about Elise crying when Lucerne cut her hair or nails. She acted like she was losing a limb. Basch drew her hands before cutting her nails and Lucerne allowed her hair to grow. Basch started to mark Elise's hands in a paper every time she chopped her nails and show her the drawings that looked the same. All of this to make her stop crying. "You are still the same", he would say to her. Time passed and one day she cut her hair shortly saying she wanted to do that a long time ago. She has always been brave enough to outcome her fears.
Basch drew his head with his finger on the grey wall of the bathroom. He didn't smile, but he felt like something was close to him at that moment and he was happy he was the brother of Elise Zwingli. He was also happy he was the brother of Maxim Popescu.
"I'm going home." He whispered thinking about his brother and his sister. He chopped the first strand of hair with the scissors. "Whatever it takes."
He cut his hair which was growing to his neck. He chopped until he didn't feel the strands growing longer than his skull. He used to have the same haircut than his sister so they would be the same.
Basch left from the bathroom and Bản Lĩnh placed the hat in his head. The front of his eyes was hidden by the wool strings hiding his face. The old woman grabbed the clothing on the desk.
"Basch, I only have feminine Áo Dài since my life was always surrounded by women." The Vietnamese explained placing white clothing in his hands. "I'm sorry you have to wear women's clothes."
Basch pressed his lips together as a smile. He was wiser and kinder than before, but he still had difficulties in smiling and explaining his feelings in another way besides a lesson. He thought about Maxim's strands pulled from the sides of his hair and his sister always being confused as a boy.
"It's fine."
He was happy the clothing was lighter than his uniform and he showed more skin. He would blend in since man also used that clothing sometimes and his eyes and blonde hair were hidden with the hat. He grabbed his backpack in which he only had the necessary and gazed at the woman. The sunset was shining in Hanoi as if the world was a good place and Bản Lĩnh was shinning as if the world was good to her. He wished he was able to thank her. Say more things since this was going to be the last time he sees her. Nevertheless, Basch was discerning a wall in front of his voice.
"Tạm biệt."
At least, he left half the money he had under his mattress for her since she didn't charge him. He didn't need that.
"Have a good journey."
Basch left.
The pace on the street was his fastest and most doubtful. The sun was warming the strings in front of his eyes. Nobody noticed him. When he was displaying his blonde hair and military clothes he was a target. Now he was peacefully walking like any other person. He bought a few resources for the road from the tents using low signs and people even offered more to him. A man even asked if he wanted a snake. When he left Hanoi he had bananas, cheap fish, three portions of dog's meat, a big amount of rice, another Áo Dài in green colour and more wool.
He left Hanoi feeling like a survivor.
•
Vietnam
August 31th
1964
Looking at the fences used to be entertainment. Now it was a duty. Tiên Huệ was waiting for his friend since she begged for a woman to send her letter to Basch Zwingli a year ago. She was waiting ever since.
The situation was abnormally cruel to her since the soldiers left her there. She was enduring several mistreats in that hospital when the disease started to spread around her body. She could feel the leukaemia as a parasite and taste it like venom. This was something she accustomed: When people don't need her, they hurt her until she attempts to leave. Sometimes, they wonder why she was cruel. Sometimes, Tiên Huệ wondered why her fate was always simple like that. Being useful until she is not and then being treated as a broken tool.
The hospital wasn't different. They heard she was a criminal, basically, and started to treat her badly as one. There wasn't enough food for people every day, however, when there was something there was a line. Children, patients, doctors, nurses and her. She knew they didn't have several choices. She would do the same. That was how cold and empty she felt. Sometimes not even a piece of bread was in her hands for days. At least, Vietnam had plenty of water and she can survive.
She felt her skin stretching around her bones. She saw her hair falling and her skin obtaining grey tissue. Tiên Huệ watched a few of her teeth fall and her nails getting purple. She noticed the stare of death at her as she stared at it many times. A voice filling her skin, veins and nerves until it was as a certain as oxygen. The misery was sticking with her until she felt like Thúy Kiều.
One more day, she was watching the fences of the hospital wishing for Basch's blonde hair appearing for her. Perhaps, today is the day her friend is coming to see her. She just wanted to ask the last thing. One last thing that she wished badly in her emptiness. Then she accepts death as an old nemesis.
On that day she watched the entrance as the only fun she still had.
Tiên Huệ saw the same mother from last month holding a defective child in her arms with love. The child had several problems breathing due to a natural defect and the woman was coming once a while to check on him. Tiên Huệ loved her as a friend she never met and that was probably the greatest fantasy she had all her steady life. She saw doctors coming to work with their shoulders low and their lips pressed together. She understood the tension of going back to the same place with haunted souls you couldn't save. This was exactly her wish after all. Then she saw something new. A woman or a man, she couldn't define by the clothing. They were wearing a Áo Dài that used to be white, however, now it was dirty as the ground and their nón lá had strings hiding their face. They walked like their feet were hurting.
It was Basch. He took the nón lá off and Tiên Huệ widened her eyes. His face was bruised, especially in his eyes, mouth and nose. His hair was a lot shorter and badly chopped with his green eyes as tired as his aura. He came across too old, even if he was extensively younger than her. He limped until he reached the door and the Vietnamese couldn't see him anymore.
"Ba..." She tried to call him from the small window in which she saw the world in that sad and stink place. Her voice was scratched and hoarse since her body was weaker than anything and she wasn't able to stand. "Bas..."
Tiên Huệ grabbed her strength and tried to move. However, she was unsuccessful because she was rather weak.
Her arms were hurting, her head was aching and her heart was pumping. The worst part is that she couldn't stand or move farther. She couldn't talk. But at least, her friend was there. He was going to reach her. She waited with a small smile she couldn't remember the last time she opened one. Perhaps, saying goodbye to Taalay. Tiên Huệ couldn't help it but feel hope. She was going to leave that place and realize the dream she had with his help. Basch achieved numerous dreams that didn't belong to him. Can he do it once again?
She waited. The pain was unbearable, but she waited. Without sleeping or falling into numbness again.
Tiên Huệ heard the door. She turned to face it with her hope filling her destroyed veins. She was disappointed when she saw a doctor; after some time, they all looked the same. It wasn't common for them to see Tiên Huệ. She was expecting Basch behind him or perhaps he was going to say she will leave. Nevertheless, he was advancing towards her. She felt disgusted and frightened about what he was going to do with her. The only card she had against those men was that she was disgusting sufficiently for them to don't touch her. But that man didn't seem disgusted. The man said something about her being a filthy whore that killed her husband, only dirt that was alive because soldiers cared for her and he was infuriated she might leave with white trash. She endured everything steadily and quietly. Everything was common until he grabbed her neck and raised her.
Tiên Huệ never felt more fearful than now. Not when she was being married to her best friend or when he turned to someone she didn't know. She wasn't afraid when he was beating her senseless or when he concentrated the aim of the gun on her face. She wasn't scared when blood started to slide through her legs on her first pregnancy. She faced everything with steadiness. Nevertheless, now she wasn't asking for a good husband or a child or her life she just wanted to achieve a small dream. That was her secret in life, she has never asked for more and she always received less than nothing. A single wish that was small and she couldn't receive a least a little. She cried and tried to fight. The doctor cut her hair until she was unrecognisable and threw something disgusting on her face. Tiên Huệ tried to talk, however, she was rather weak to say something. She would beg and crawl and do anything.
Let me see Basch. Let him see me. One last time. Please. Only this and I can die.
Then he injected a liquid in her arm and she felt the world struggling to disappear in front of her. Was that poison? It has to be. They only allowed her to live because she wasn't going anywhere. Now she had the chance to go somewhere and they won't allow her. They are killing her. If she couldn't gather strength enough to talk or raise before, now she was sedated. Her muscles were numb. The last thing he did was cover her with a dirty blanket.
He left.
The hardest war Tiên Huệ had to fight was staying awake. She couldn't sleep. If she could show Basch she was there, he would see her and they would say things they needed. He told her he was learning Vietnamese by letters and she knew he was smart. He might understand her words, finally. She would tell him about her. She would cry in his hug and say he was the best friend she had all her life since the man who used to occupy that spot destroyed her. She would say she is happy to meet Yao. Pray she doesn't see Hai Guo and Li Xiao there and watch them on Earth living happily. She would apologize to Mei Chan because she couldn't save her and she would thank her for healing her after her abnormal misery. She would hug her father and mother for the first time. Tiên Huệ was happy to die. She just wanted to say goodbye first. The Vietnamese opened her eyes and cursed herself because she was sleeping without noticing. It felt like torture lasting an eternity.
When the basement's door opened, she was struggling to stay awake. She heard a conversation in a language she couldn't discern. Perhaps, English. Basch's voice has always been strong like whips. She almost fell asleep for a glimpse of second and cursed herself for that. She needed to see him.
Conversation. More conversation.
Silence.
Did they leave? They can't leave.
Basch! Sebastian! She screamed in her mind and started to sweat. The voice was leaving her throat as air since she couldn't talk. Please, come here!
The blanket was out of her body for a second and she noticed the same doctor from before. Then she saw Basch a few meters from the bed. Tiên Huệ claimed for him like he was salvation. He only stared at her blankly and she could see he wasn't recognizing her. She lost weight until she was skin and bones. Her hair was chopped. Her skin and her teeth were different. She had more wrinkles with age. She was another person for a long time ago and he didn't recognize her. He doesn't see her in that moribund person.
The doctor says something in that language. She doesn't understand. They leave and the doctor consoles him with a hand on his shoulder. Tiên Huệ closes her eyes and falls into numbness.
•
Bulgaria
September 1st
1964
Boris was assembling the pieces together. He was feeling like a detective for a long time since he commenced to search for Anastasia. The board he was using or the upper bed of his "roommate" was filled with photographs and names written in papers. He was searching as if his life depended on it and he was happy about that. He was working again. He accomplished anything with telephone calls, letters and pieces of information he gathered with Basch and Elizabeta's help.
Nebo Tymoshenko Braginski was married to Anastasia Kievanrus Arlovskaya in 1913 when they were sixteen according to documents Elizabeta arranged with a Ukrainian priest. They both lived in Kharkiv, Ukraine, but they went to Kyiv to wed and live peacefully since Nebo's uncle had land around the city. Boris couldn't find much information about the uncle with Nebo's sister who talked to him through letters. She didn't even think about her brother in years, so Boris didn't touch the subject he was dead for fifty years. According to Anastasia's family, she was dead to them since she ran with a peasant so the Bulgarian didn't ask further questions. Nebo and Anastasia seemed to have unstable big families with extreme prejudice between one another or with sentiments in general.
They married, Nebo went to the Ukrainian army to pay for everything and Anastasia must have started to work as a farmer. A year later, according to a neighbour, Anastasia Braginski was pregnant. Nebo had to leave for the first Great War and he didn't see the birth of his daughter. She sent the picture that Basch was holding for Lucerne. Nebo gave to her in 1917 and killed himself so he wouldn't succumb far from his new friend. Ukraine was suffering from German occupation and several battles between Russia and Germany. Those were hard times for Anastasia and her daughter, Ekaterina, but they had a farm and they didn't starve a single day according to a close friend. Anastasia sent that picture to her husband when he was battling to say she was clenching things together. Boris started to focus on Anastasia since Nebo died in 1918 according to Lucerne Zwingli. He started to search around that property in Ukraine's country. According to researches, the farm was bought in 1928 and the man said the previous owner moved to another country. He saw himself in a dead-end after this. He had to search for something else. He called the new owner one more time and said something about searching for the love of his life to the owner's wife. Boris manipulated the woman so she tells more things about that woman and he prayed she remembered.
"The previous owner was a prostitute as far as I know. Not very smart, I guess. A woman owning a farm is not proper."
He faced prejudice as an advantage. She left school when she was sixteen and in that time the only language taught in school was Russian. She must have travelled to a place she can speak the language and doesn't need to change her Soviet citizenship. Basically, one-quarter of the Earth. He started to think. Belarus wasn't in a good situation because of the war and the destroyed buildings caused by several empires. Kazakhstan was different economically and culturally from everything she knew. The Baltic countries were facing poverty and the consequences of being between wires since the dark ages. The only place she could go around the Soviet Union to have a better life was Russia. If they were in Leningrad they are most likely dead. Boris was considering Anastasia very smart. She must have gone to a place far from the European area.
Boris started to plan things in his beautiful mind as butterflies wings. It was colourful while he was studying every clue he had. He needed to find someone born in 1897 named Anastasia Kievanrus Braginski and someone named Ekaterina Neboivna Braginski born in 1917. Anastasia is most likely dead already. He focused on Ekaterina Neboivna. He knew her name and yet he was in a dead-end merely because he didn't know where to look. If they were away from Ukraine during Holomodor, then she must have survived.
Boris didn't know what to do after that.
He didn't have resources and the only help he had was from favours made with other prisoners. Elizabeta and Basch were going to return next month to the prison. He needed to search around Moscow but he cut ever relations with Russia a long time ago. Nobody would search for him. He needed to accomplish this in a matter of honour and boredom.
He remembered something. The only person who could basically scrape the skin of Russia with its bare hands until it's flooding with gold.
First Gilbert answered.
"Hello, Gilbert Beilschmidt. How is Gilbird? How are Ludwig, Feliciano and their dogs? I was thinking you and I should date. We would be toxically hot."
"Who the fuck is speaking?"
"Pass it to Ivan."
He heard screams in German and he wondered if Gilbert was mad Ivan searched through his past without his knowledge. He heard a cynical voice he missed with a hatred nothing.
"Who is it?"
"Hello, love."
"If you are calling to say I denounced you to go to jail you are mistaken. I have my duty and more important things to deal besides your sorry life."
"Yet you know I'm in jail."
Ivan stayed silent. He was obviously hurt since the Bulgarian has always acted as if they were friends and that man was begging for friends, but he cheated on him for nothing. It was for the fun at that time.
"What do you want?"
"I need a favour, love."
He chuckled cynically and the Bulgarian wondered why he always fakes his laughs.
I'm extremely funny! You are just exigent.
"You delivered me and because of you I almost shoot my head. I spent a month in a Gulag and I was tortured." He retorted displaying his anger. Boris never saw him being sedated by his emotions, but now he was genuine. More real than he has ever seen in all the years they know each other. "Why would I do anything to you?"
Boris didn't have anything. He called because he was being impulsive, but now he was merely empty-handed with the one person who always dodged him. The only time he dodged Ivan he lost him forever. The Bulgarian bit his tongue and kneeled on the ground. He felt his eyes getting wet and he couldn't use his mask anymore. He wanted to beg for forgiveness and he wanted to kill for the same reason. He didn't know what he wanted and what he was searching for.
He was completely empty. He just grabbed that search because he said he was bored, but the truth was he was screaming for help.
"Ivan... I don't even know why I am doing this." Boris said in Russian and a painful voice. It was the tenth tentative when he finally stopped stuttering and arranged the word on his mind. "Perhaps, I was just avoiding the thought of killing myself like I was picturing every single minute. I want to find this person because it's going to be the last thing I will do. Then I can die. I can't die before I have this. You can kill me after this, okay? I will smile while you do it. I can moan if you want to."
"Stop!"
His thoughts were fast.
"I can't. I just can't! This is the only thing I learned from Yuri and now I don't have anyone but myself but I hate myself. I hate it... I can't... I don't have anything left and I'm going to die swimming in gold. I won't die here. I won't fucking die here!"
The Russian stayed silent.
"Do this for me."
"I did a lot for you already."
"What did you do, love? You only dodged me and made me do some researches for free. I own you nothing."
He scoffed and cleaned his tears. He placed his finger between his teeth. He tried to pretend the tears were fake, however, they weren't. He was actually crying. He sat on the floor spreading his legs and crackled his tongue.
"Now, will you help me?"
"With what?"
Boris explained his plan with a hoarse voice as if he was striving to appear hot, however, his throat was actually hurting from the hot weather. Ivan listened without saying a single thing. The Bulgarian could imagine him. It has been several years since they stayed in the same room, but he remembered those violet eyes and strong shoulders.
"You want me to search for someone named Anastasia Kievanrus Braginski and Ekaterina Neboivna Braginski that moved to Russia in 1928 but you are not sure if they actually went to Russia? And you don't know the city or anything to search for. Basically nothing."
"Will you do it, love?"
The Russian sighed.
"Only with something in return."
Boris remembered when they stayed in the same room and Ivan appeared to take the picture they were pretending to be married. He said something about being nervous in taking a picture and the Bulgarian never thought Ivan could be so transparent. He appreciated him at that moment, even if he reminded Boris of Yuri in a reluctant way. After that sentence, the Bulgarian decided to simply like him. They were both alone after all.
"I can give you anything, my beloved. Do you want a baby?"
"Very funny." Ivan retorted with a cynical voice. He wasn't thinking it was funny. "I want you to go see your mother."
Boris stopped. Everything stopped and he watched the dust on the sun coming from the small window. The bars locking it made the Bulgarian feel sick. He placed his forehead on the hot wall and started to sweat. He was fighting to maintain the ironic voice.
"Is Kalin still breathing...?" He asked and chuckled after it. He wanted to vomit with the feeling in his stomach. "That woman is fucking unkillable. Is she a vampire?"
"Elizabeta's payment is something about Kalin, Boris. I gave it to her. It's from a book your mother wrote."
Boris punched the wall next to the phone and started to cry. He tried to control his voice. He tried to contain his temper since he was reminding himself of his father. Yuri crossed his mind and he wanted to scream, however, the guard was already grabbing his gun.
"Why you are you doing this?"
"Because you are my husband."
Boris cried silently and ignoring his surroundings. He put a hand in front of his face to hide that shame. He wanted a glimpse of who he used to be and he discovered it in Ivan.
"Can you stay on the phone with me? I just want a minute."
Ivan stayed with him for a minute in complete silence before he spoke again.
"Goodbye, Boris."
The call was finished. Boris stayed in the same position with the constant sound of the end of the call in his left ear.
•
Vietnam
September 2nd
1964
Basch was carrying Tiên Huệ when the doctors encountered him and he stared at them as if he was armed. He wasn't, howbeit his eyes were glowing with dreadful anger. And the men seemed to give up when they noticed that their lie didn't work. He wished he was able to look the same way to the men who beat him without considering an option, but it was too late to have anger. He walked away from the hospital with Tiên Huệ on a piggyback ride. He was afraid she was already dead so he ignored the void in her chest and its beatings. Whatever it was, he didn't want to sense it. The doubt was better than certainty sometimes. If she was dead, he failed. If she was alive, he failed. She looked at him for help and he didn't recognize her at first. She had to watch when he left. Then he remembered her hematite eyes and saw them on that miserable person.
He placed her on a wheelbarrow made with wood and nails. She was completely curled and steady as she was already dead. Every characteristic in her appearance was telling disease and death as a warning sign. He pushed her through Hạ Long city with his muscles aching and people staring at him. He was used to people looking since he was pushing Maxim's chair everywhere. He only stopped when he was back at the centre of homeless people where he slept since he arrived in that city yesterday. Basch found food and resources in that place and remembered his homeless days around places razed by war. The Swiss was accustomed to those. He met Sadik, Gupta and the man from Yaoundé in one of those.
It was loud, regardless nobody was talking a lot. It was crowded and he felt lonely with the carcass of his friend in a wheelbarrow and the eyes on him were heavy.
He was waiting in an enormous line for a shower with the wheelbarrow when people started to give passage for him when they finally smelled Tiên Huệ. She was stinking so bad people in need gave that right to them. She also looked dead and they seemed to notice that. Basch took her to behind the rug trapped on the wall by ropes. The "shower" was a basket with water and Basch tried not to think if the water was used several times before. He took worse showers. He placed his unconscious friend on the ground and tried to clean every residue in her body with a dirty cloth.
When she was in front of him cleaner than before and wearing the green Áo Dài, he touched her chest. He smiled when he heard a heartbeat.
* •
Well, in this chapter you noticed a prejudice that was common in Vietnam, especially in Hanoi, through the American war. The foreigners were treated with prejudice and discrimination. Please don't judge Vietnamese people for their past. Today they are very open with culture from other countries and truly loveable people.
The Swiss sprinted alongside the motorcycles, people and beggars with the ferocity to avoid another bruise.
Motorcycles are more common than cars on the streets in Vietnam. Literally, is rare to see a car in the sea of motorcycles and scooters.
Basch rolled his eyes since he didn't know how to speak Vietnamese to explain to the man that he just wanted a refuge. In years studying the language he can only understand people speaking in Vietnamese rather than talking back.
This is very normal with people learning a second language. Sometimes they can't form a sentence, but they understand every word you say. I have this difficulty with Spanish and Italian. I have seen many people with the same problem with English. Learning a language is a process of writing, speaking, reading and hearing. People can be amazing in one and terrible in another. I tried to show this a lot in the story.
Xin lỗi. = Vietnamese for "Sorry." An apology.
"Dừng lại, người nước ngoài!" = "Stop, Foreigner!"
Bản Lĩnh, the name of the woman who helped Basch, means "bravery". Since names and words in Vietnamese are similar to the foreign eye, I decided to make a comparison with it. Bản Lĩnh can be aph North Vietnam and her wife, Ân Huệ which means kindness, can be aph South Vietnam. Both of them can be the country before the war that decided the faith of Vietnam. This is one of the possibilities I thought about. Bản Lĩnh and Ân Huệ can also be the personifications of a few of the several names Vietnam had before being Vietnam. Here are some names from Wikipedia.
As the reader, you can picture them as whoever you want to. You can also create meaning in their personifications and I give you the freedom to do as you please. :)
He was her first guest since the war took place in the DMZ.
When the war took place in Vietnam, the DMZ or delimited military zones were an area between South and North where the war took place. The zone ceased to exist with the reunification of Vietnam, though the area remains dangerous due to the numerous undetonated explosives it contains. According to my Vietnamese friend, this area is very poor due to the consequences of the war in comparison to the rest of the country.
He thought that man from Cameroon. A nameless person that helped him and Tiên Huệ through all the African continent. He was a good man, but when he tried to walk with them around certain countries people would treat him like a criminal or a slave. And Basch could never decide which one was worse. All that intolerance because his skin was as black and as glowing as the starry sky in summer.
This is Aph Cameron or Mbella Kuoh-Moukoury Ahanda. I want to tell his story when I write something about aph African countries, but now he won't get the spotlight until I create an amazing story for him. All you have to know is that Basch, Tiên Huệ and Mbella were helping to tell stories from slavery in Mauritania – the last country in the world to abolish slavery in 1981. The country is very harsh with people trying to intervene in nowadays but in the past, they just exiled them out of the country. Slavery is something difficult to erase and there are people who gain from it. When a few people from Mauritania heard about them only being exiled, they decided to ambush them and they killed Mbella.
Tạm biệt. = as you may remember from other chapters, this means "goodbye". I wanted to say I think it's very fitting that Việt and Biệt have the same intonation. Those words also have the same "ệ" than Huệ.
"Basch, I only have feminine Áo Dài since my life was always surrounded by women."
Áo Dài is a type of long dress with long sleeves. You can see Aph Vietnam wearing on Hetalia.
A man even asked if he wanted a snake.
People in Vietnam eat snakes in restaurants where they can watch a man interacting with the snakes as a performance. Similar to lobsters, you can choose which snake you want to eat.
When he left Hanoi he had bananas, cheap fish, three portions of dog's meat, a big amount of rice, another Áo Dài in green colour and more wool.
People eat dog's meat in Vietnam. I don't like the idea since I'm vegetarian but I can't judge other cultures. I like the idea that Aph Switzerland is doing the same because people forget or don't know that Swiss people also have this custom of eating dog's meat around Romansh parts.
The misery was sticking with her until she felt like Thúy Kiều.
The Tale of Kiều (1813) is a Vietnamese epic poem written by Nguyễn Du. It is widely regarded as the most significant work of Vietnamese literature. They said the life of the main character, Thúy Kiều, was difficult from the beginning to its end. I tried to search for the pdf and the epub, however, I couldn't find it anywhere. I wish I could read it.