Reminder:
"This is spoken English."
"This is spoken Czech."
This is a thought.
Previously: It's not important. This whole chapter is basically "previously." Although, for the hyper-observant, chapters 30 and 47 and 64 and 73 could be interesting. There may be more, but those come to mind.
Also, do yourself a favor, and grab a sandwich or some tea or something. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Finally, I made all this up. I did a lot of… I dunno what to call it, research? But, you know, you can never really know what a thing is really like. I've never been there. But, hopefully, it's close enough to pass. Anybody wanting to share their knowledge on, you know, Czech universities in the 80s? I'd be much obliged. And incredibly interested.
Chapter 96. The Story of My Life.
It was early December, 1987. The world never changed.
Matěj leaned across the table, putting his hand over Radek's textbook, and pointed. Anyone looking might think that he was indicating some confusing term on the page. It wasn't until he whispered that Radek knew he wasn't talking about the book at all.
"Do you know her?"
Radek, after a dutiful pause to roll his eyes, glanced over his shoulder.
She hunched over a book two tables away, at the same table she occupied every day. The stacks behind her were dark reds and black, worn from ages in the library and the hands of a thousand students. Radek knew he was imagining it when light streamed in through the window next to her, catching on the dust in the air. Her auburn hair caught the glow, giving her a halo like a Gothic painting.
Radek noticed her many times, but that usually meant he had no idea what her name was. He'd never been closer to her than he was right now. Like he was every day. Because, in the library, it seemed like Czechoslovakia was right next door to heaven. When he was in the library, he even believed it.
He looked back at Matěj. Had he forgotten who he was talking to? "Forget it," he whispered.
Matěj grinned and leaned back, pulling his textbook off the table. He propped it up in his hands against his chest, but clearly wasn't reading. "So you do know." He wasn't even pretending to read anymore. "Who is she?"
"Go to the woods, Matěj," Radek hissed. First of all… he didn't know her name. He sometimes wished he did, but that would require talking to her and, well, yeah, that always went well.
"What is she studying?" Matěj craned his neck to, maybe, get a glimpse of the words of the page of the book she studied. Obviously, he hadn't yet divined a socially acceptable reason to go over there and just ask her. Or at least walk past to get a better view.
Radek shook his head, and went back to optics. Optics… Basically, the study of light. He looked back up.
She seemed irritated about whatever she was studying, thinking as she pressed the end of her pencil on the tip of her cute nose.
"No, you don't." Matěj slapped Radek's arm. "I saw her first."
Radek spread his hands on the table before him, almost flipping his pencil across the table. "What?" he rasped. "She's here every day!"
"She is?"
"For god's sake…" Radek went right back to optics, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and trying to focus. This was as close as he was going to get to light in his lifetime, so might as well make the best of it.
He knew as soon as she sat down every day. The hair on the back of his neck stood up like he was about to get struck by lightning. Her perfume smelled distinctly of almonds.
"Go back to your…" He waved helplessly at Matěj's coursework. "Whatever that is."
They both had exams to study for, and the only one between the two who didn't need to study was Radek. He knew his material backwards and forwards, and could never achieve higher marks than he was already getting. The best of his class, far and away. Wise men said it was lonely at the top, but maybe they didn't consider that only lonely people reached the top. Radek knew he was bound for both for a long time.
His parents had known since he was small that he was bright. Solidly working class, they'd impressed upon a small Radek the importance of silent obedience, despite his own thoughts. They were careful, quiet people, who had their own thoughts and held onto them tightly. They had high dreams for their oldest. Dreamed he would do something important. Dreamed he would see the world new, not this bleak, gray life they knew. They dreamed he would leave them forever. But the spring drifted into their distant memory, and the world never changed.
Radek was like them. Careful and quiet. He guessed people were like the world. They never changed, and it didn't matter what their dreams were.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" Matěj said absently. "I know this stuff like I know my own shoes." He stood, leaving his books on the table they shared, but his new vantage didn't give him the view he wanted. He looked down at Radek. "I'll be back." He winked and walked away toward the girl, casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the book she was reading. He kept right on walking and out the door of the library.
Radek lost sight of him, but it didn't matter. As soon as Matěj left the library, the girl two tables away decidedly planted her forehead on her book. She sighed. Radek couldn't believe Matěj was missing his chance…! Radek wasn't one to capitalize on things like this. Was he?
He was twenty, now. It was 1987. The world was changing.
Radek picked up his book and walked toward her table. He was sure, by the time he reached her, she would have heard him breathing. She didn't look up, though. He leaned over ever so slightly to see the page under her hair.
Gravity and magnetism. Physics.
Maybe there was a god.
Now all he had to do was broach a conversation without some lame comment about the attractive properties of magnets.
"Hey," he whispered.
She popped up, looking put out by his interruption. A little confused. Definitely suspicious.
"Sorry. Need, um…?" He motioned helplessly at her book, not sure what he was saying anymore. "I can…" He looked down at the book in his hand, the one on optics. The light shining in the window was so bright he could barely see. "Are you okay?"
What was so hard about saying, I'm good at physics. Can I help you? I'm Radek, by the way.
"Oh." She looked down at her book, color rising to her face as she smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you."
He looked at her book, pretending to read it for the first time. "Do you study physics?" It was a higher level course, too. The first girl he'd ever met who wasn't studying… he didn't know. Whatever it was they studied. His classes were so male-dominated, he could go days without seeing a single woman. "I study physics, and…"
He lost wherever he was going.
She looked at her book, then back up. "I don't. Not exclusively."
"Um…" He walked around behind her chair and pulled out the one next to her. He couldn't speak. She hadn't told him she was busy, yet. Hadn't made some sideways reference to having to meet someone in a couple of minutes. That was new.
He tried to swallow the dumpling in his throat. "Need help?"
She gave him half of an uncertain smirk, narrowing her eye in his direction. "I think I've got it, thanks."
He didn't have time to sit down in the chair before she turned him down. "Oh. Okay. Good luck, then." He started to walk away but his feet wouldn't continue. He stood between one floorboard and another for what felt like minutes. He heard her pencil rubbing the page. Her handwriting was lovely—he'd seen it for just a second. Her name began with an E.
He turned back to her. She must have heard him, because she immediately stopped writing. "Maybe you need a break, then," he suggested. "It's good for, you know, getting your mind back." He frowned at his inept attempt to ask for a date. If that's what he was asking.
Maybe he was, because she smiled. Maybe she would have laughed if they were outside, but she kept it low in the library. "Getting my mind back?"
He shrugged helplessly, tried to smile. Only a step back to the chair next to her. He leaned on the back of it. "I'm Radek Zelenka. You wouldn't want to, uh…" He shook his free hand idly. "Drinks? Can I buy you a drink?"
She was still smiling, but the way women usually did when observing a child playing, or a small dog trying to climb stairs. Radek didn't know if either of those were an apt comparison for him, but it might as well be. Women didn't go for drinks with children or puppies.
He tapped his fingers on the back of the chair. Let go of it, finally. "I'm sorry to bother you." He slid his glasses off as he walked away. Better if he couldn't see any pitying glances as he walked by. If anyone even noticed. Better not see that, either.
"Eliška." He heard her voice behind him so he stopped. Again. "Eliška Hajeková."
Radek turned back, unsure what to make of her closing her books, gathering her pencils and sheets of paper. "Eliška," he whispered, watching her step up next to him, her books in her arms. It was a beautiful name. It matched her perfectly.
"Where did you have in mind?"
Radek smiled, shrugged. What did he have in mind? He completely lost his mind, because he couldn't think of any bars. He was broke, anyway. But it didn't matter.
It was 1987, and the world had changed.
#
April, 1988
Radek didn't know what happened. Here he was, sitting on the floor of Eliška's apartment against the couch. Eliška always sat on the floor at home, regardless of the number of chairs available. He'd gotten so used to it he stopped thinking it was strange. She leaned comfortably against him, his arm around her, like she had been for the past twenty minutes. Maybe it was twenty minutes… She was engrossed in reading her own book while he was supposed to be reading, too. The words on the page wouldn't stick in his head.
He sighed and tried, again, to focus.
Eliška shifted and shut her book. She slid closer, though he wasn't sure how she managed it, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I could use a drink. Do you want something?"
Radek shook his head. How could he possibly want anything?
She sighed happily, nodded, and stood up. She walked to the kitchen, out of sight. He could hear her fumbling with glasses.
Four months ago, Radek stumbled through a conversation about gravity and magnetism. He must have managed to avoid disaster, because four days after that, he waited for her in the library to hear how her exam went. She said she passed splendidly. She said it was thanks to him. They went for drinks to celebrate.
Matěj figured out why Radek was inexplicably cheerful. He forgave Radek three days later.
Radek found himself carefully aligning his schedule to catch a glimpse of her during the following semester. They spent time together, studying, eating lunch, talking, sometimes just walking. They played chess, and danced three nights a week. Eliška said it helped her think. She thought best by going places and doing things… and he was willing to go places and do things because she would be there.
She had to notice, though, that he was not like her. She was so comfortable in social situations in a way he never was. He envied that and tried to emulate it. He did alright, but never felt like he belonged there. He was much happier in smaller groups. Even then, he had the feeling their friends tolerated him only because he was more-or-less attached to Eliška.
He began to feel as though something was missing if he walked beside her without her hand in his.
Eliška returned, sitting back beside him. Glass of water. She resumed her station nestled under his arm and opened her book to the page she'd left off. She put her hand on his knee for a moment. "I love you." Her voice came in a whisper, like she was unsure about saying it or didn't quite want him to hear.
Oh, but he'd heard.
He glanced at her sideways. "Why?"
It was an accident. He already said it before he realized that he even thought it. Shouldn't have asked. She might realize there was no sane reason why they should be sitting together like this. He had every reason to love her. She was smart, with dreams and ambition. Their talks skirted deeper topics and territories they dared not tread for fear of their futures, but enough to know that when the world was ready they'd be there to change it. She was beautiful, kind, and independent. He'd take the blue from the sky for her.
Eliška tilted her head, adopted that little smirk of confusion she took on whenever he said something baffling. It happened a lot in social settings.
She closed her book and pulled back to face him directly. "Did you just ask 'why?'"
"Never mind."
"Isn't it the usual response to say 'I love you, too'?" she asked.
"Of course, I love you."
She put her book down to one side, and took his book from him. She closed it, watching him carefully.
He couldn't very well ask a question of her that he didn't intend to answer himself. She was beautiful, but she knew that. He must have told her about her smile a hundred times in the last week alone, how it gave a day meaning when nothing else made any sense. Answering why he loved Eliška seemed like it could take a lifetime.
"You make me better, you know," he said simply. He turned his eyes away from hers; he always felt like he might get lost if he looked too long. He focused his attention of a lock of hair on her shoulder instead, reached out and turned it in his fingers. "You always bring an extra pencil."
She laughed. "What?"
"I always forget my pencil. You let me borrow yours." That sounded absolutely ridiculous.
She looked even more bewildered and he couldn't help but smile. Her smile always made him happy.
"I don't know what I mean." Radek leaned his head back on the couch behind him and stared at the ceiling. When he thought of something, he turned his head to see her again. "You have what I'm missing." That sounded closer to what he was talking about.
How could he put everything wonderful about her into just words?
"I see." She seemed to think about her own answer. He didn't know whether the length she took to think should make him feel better about it or not. Then she laughed. "For one thing, you're the only one I know who puts up with Violka."
And he'd tried so hard to hide his absolute disdain for the woman. Eliška had been studying once a week with her friend, Viola, for years. Radek went with her to study also, but only because Eliška was there… not because he enjoyed the company otherwise. "I'm sorry, but I've never met such a…" How to put boorish narcissist tactfully…?
"No, no, you're right," Eliška interrupted with a hand on his chest before he could say what he really thought of Viola. "She's rude and conceited and she's not as smart as she thinks she is. I don't know how I put up with her sometimes, but… well, what can I say?"
Radek knew what to say. "You are as generous with your time as you are with your pencils?"
Her amusement was averted by Viola's intrusive presence, whether she was literally in the room or not. "She's like a sister. But you… you still listen to everything she says and I don't know how you do that."
Radek shrugged. "It's easy to say nothing."
"No, that's difficult. Anyone else might just bite her head off, tell her to shut up, set her straight."
Anyone else had a better grasp of putting words together, too, but he'd better not remind her of that. The only thing he could think to say about her was her stash of pencils. Why was he sitting here next to her?
She smiled. "And… you probably could, you know. You're the smartest man I've ever met."
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I'm not." He wasn't stupid, but it was practically impossible she'd never met anyone smarter. There were so many who fit the description. She was just saying that, and he didn't even mind. Wasn't it the thought that mattered?
"That's another reason I love you." Eliška leaned forward, her lips meeting his.
He might have enjoyed it more if he hadn't been thinking. Because he was the smartest man she ever met… and because he wasn't? How did that make any sense? She pulled away, and he glanced down toward her hand for just a moment before meeting her eyes again. It would be better to not question it. As long as it made sense to her, he didn't have to understand. It was probably better if he didn't.
"And…" Her hand drifted down to his collared shirt, the beige sweater over it. She slid closer. "You look so good in these…" She fiddled with a few of the buttons.
She was clearly just joking now, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Ela?" he said softly, brushing his fingers under her chin. "You know, you really are—"
She cut him off with another kiss.
He wasn't sure what happened. But here he was.
#
October, 1990
Married. A parent. The world was falling apart, and not just because he wasn't sleeping and wasn't sure what he was doing with his life anymore. He looked over his shoulder at the little baby sitting on the floor, gnawing on a plastic green block.
He smiled, watching her eyes twinkle when she noticed him looking at her. "Does that taste good?"
She giggled at the sound of his voice, and waved the block enthusiastically. "Tata!" she squealed. The block flew out of her hand, smacking the nearby chair and clattered to the floor. She looked at it with disappointment.
Anna wasn't one to be distressed for long. She clumsily leaned forward, planting her hands on the floor. She crawled across the carpet with determination but got distracted before she reached the block, instead pulling herself up to stand next to the nearby chair. She looked on top of the chair like something was up there, when nothing was there at all.
Sort of like Radek. He wasn't sure when the last time was he didn't get distracted trying to work. He always felt like he was looking for something that wasn't there.
Whose idea was a double major? That's right, stupid. Yours. He was never going to finish this, was he?
At least, like Anna, he was pretty happy most of the time. Bouncing back from distress after accidentally throwing something out of reach.
On the other hand, waiting for Eliška to get back was pretty stressful. He had to leave in ten minutes to get to class on time. She'd never been this late before… He knew their schedules were delicate, and… No, this was a disaster. An absolute disaster.
"Tata?" Anna held a hand out to him.
Radek sighed and slid out of his chair to join Anna on the floor. "I don't know where she is, Little."
He picked up one of her stuffed animals. This one was a butterfly in bright red and yellow colors, her favorite. In fact, she seemed to love all butterflies, from pictures to toys. She abandoned the chair, turning and trying to step toward him boldly. She collapsed, landing on her bottom. She giggled, though, spreading her hands toward him expectantly.
"I don't suppose you know anything about gravitational potential?" he asked her as he picked her up and set her down on his leg.
Anna reached for the stuffed butterfly, babbling away with certainty in words that only slightly resembled their counterparts in a dictionary. She solemnly patted his chest, finishing her nonsense sentence with a strong glare. He could swear she understood every word he said sometimes. Scolded him for talking about things she couldn't possibly fathom.
He nodded, patting her soft head gently. "Insightful… I don't think I've heard an explanation where quantum gravity was integrated so seamlessly."
She looked more-or-less pleased with his pronouncement, and so continued her exposition. Probably about the butterfly, and he was content to listen. Sometimes he thought he heard a real word or two, but she was a while away from forming actual sentences. Sometimes she referred to a thing by its name, like sometimes she'd call a block or a ball what it was. Her favorite words to say were, by far, "tata" and "máma." And "motýl."
He smiled and flicked the stuffed insect's cloth wings. "I don't know why you are talking about the butterfly effect, though." She wouldn't appreciate the joke. Chaos theory should have meant more. A baby was nothing if not chaos. Enlightening, yes. But complete chaos.
"Motýlí," Anna said with authority.
He picked up another nearby toy, a large plastic tiger that she liked to chew on more than anything else.
Anna banged her butterfly's head on the tiger. "Oh," she whispered. She looked at him in surprise.
Radek responded by imitating the sound of a tiger. Or maybe it was a lion sound. Whatever, she was a baby. She didn't know. On the other hand, she might grow up thinking that tigers roared, when they didn't. Radek knew nothing about tigers. Lions either. There were no tigers here. Wherever "here" was.
Everything was changing, and it scared Radek to death. He wasn't sure why. Maybe just because he was a naturally timid person who didn't like change. Things had to change, of course, and he'd been thrilled, not too long ago. Uncertainty took its place.
Uncertainty of the future, of whether all this learning he'd done would be useful. If he could provide food and shelter for his family. If they'd done the right thing, bringing this little baby into a world that wasn't sure what it was doing. To parents who didn't know what they were doing even more.
Anna was in a constant state of uncertainty, but she seemed happy. She could be certain of Eliška and of Radek, and that was all she needed. Just last year, he'd been wondering if he should have been one of the ones to change things before he realized he wasn't that kind of person. He didn't know what kind of person he was, but he was more the type to not do things than to do things. As long as the status quo didn't kill him, he was alright.
He just didn't know. The status quo might kill him.
Anna's voice drifted away into quiet while she pulled on the butterfly's head. "Tata?" she wondered.
"Yes, Little?"
She held the butterfly up and made a motion up toward the chair, saying words that weren't exactly words. He was pretty sure he knew what she wanted, though. He leaned around the chair and pulled a small picture book from the shelf.
"This one?" he asked her.
She took the book from his hands and pointed at the picture of the bugs on the front of it. A grasshopper, two ants, and some sort of beetle playing a tuba. She assigned a series of sounds to it.
"The beetle?"
She opened the cover.
It was entirely a picture book with cardstock pages, filled exclusively with animals and insects doing very strange things. There were no words, but it probably wouldn't make much sense even if there were. Radek had listened to Eliška make up story after story to go along with the pictures. She asked Anna questions and listened attentively when Anna said a million things that didn't make any sense.
Anna leaned back against him and looked up, waiting for him to make up some sort of scenario in which a beetle would play a tuba.
He didn't get to start. The door opened and Eliška came in. Her keys jingled when she tossed them aside. Her coat cast on a chair and her shoes hit the wall when she kicked them off. Anna was already crawling toward her, laughing so hard she seemed to barely breathe.
"Baby girl!" Eliška said, scooping her off the ground and put a big kiss on her cheek.
Anna gave a kiss back, rather sloppily.
"Hello, Ela." Radek put the book on the chair and met her at the room's threshold.
"Dearest," she said. She kissed his cheek and waited for him to return it. "Sorry I'm late."
Radek checked the watch on his wrist. It was still early in the semester and he was ready for it to be over. In the spring, he couldn't wait to go to class… It was easier than being at home. He felt guilty thinking that, but babies were so demanding. Sometimes he slept in the library for a half-hour before going home after classes. He told Eliška he was studying.
He finally just shrugged. "It's okay."
"Ráďa…" Eliška sighed and put her hand to his face. "I feel like I never see you anymore."
He smirked. "You don't, really."
"I know."
He went to put his books in his bag. Eliška frowned and watched him, rearranging Anna on her hip. She was unhappy, he was unhappy, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. At least Anna was happy.
"We'll be done with this soon," Eliška offered.
Radek tried not to chuckle derisively as he turned. "When? Another semester and I'm only off to more classes, harder and longer. Research assisting, paper writing, and… more, still more! Always more, Ela…" He sighed and shook his head before he could say what he really thought.
Why did she want children now?
It was a mistake. He said it over and over again, but she was persuasive. Not that he regretted it; no, he loved Anna. He loved Anna more than he expected to. More than he ever expected to love almost anything. He just wished they'd waited. They had their whole lives, right?
"This is insane," he finished quietly.
She looked shocked and upset. What did he expect? Even Anna looked distressed at his tone. He'd apologize, but Anna wouldn't know the difference… Eliška would, though.
"I'm sorry, I just…" He put a hand through his hair and picked up his bag. "I'm sorry, Ela. I have to go."
She caught his arm, putting a kiss on his cheek as he met her eyes. They glistened with tears. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too," he returned. The most honest words he'd spoken in what felt like ages. He hated lying to her, pretending that everything was okay.
Everything was okay… Unless he thought about it too much.
Eliška blinked her tears away and said, "Wait, are you bringing anything with you to eat? You have to eat."
She hurried into the kitchen and Radek knew he was supposed to follow.
Eliška wiped off Anna's face, even though it was clean, and set her down on the floor. Anna wasn't pleased with that, whimpering as she crawled around after Eliška. Eliška handed Anna a rohlík to quiet her before continuing with what she was doing. She was making him some food, no idea what.
Radek didn't want to tell her not to, even though he usually went without lunch just to help their ends meet at the end of the month.
She pulled a few extra ingredients, as well, probably to cook dinner. Something with flour and sausage. Probably soup. It was always soup. Radek didn't know how they survived. Food was scarce, work was worse, and it there was never a guarantee there'd be more of either.
Anna was far from the most circumspect decision they'd ever made.
"Things could change, dearest," Eliška said softly.
Things could change, yes, but what would that mean? Just because things changed didn't mean they became better. Radek's life changed for the better, he was sure, when he met Eliška. He was sure someday he'd think of Anna as his life's best blessing. But those changes were small, and didn't put food on the table. On a large scale, when things changed they got worse…
That foundational belief made him unsure of the reliability of the country his little one was born into. The country he'd been born in was gone… If the last year taught him anything—new country, new wife, new baby—it was that things changed. Change was nothing if not difficult.
Radek didn't want to tell Eliška that, though. Not while she was shortening sausage with vegetables she grew on the back patio.
Things had to get better.
"Yeah…" he agreed tentatively as he took the sandwich Eliška offered him.
When he looked down, he saw Anna sitting next to his foot, looking up with outstretched arms. She apparently wasn't very interested in her cookie. He knelt down and playfully poked her belly. She giggled and grasped at his hands, but she wasn't quick or nimble enough.
He still couldn't help but smile when he saw her. "Sorry, Little. I have to go. Someday you'll understand."
#
March, 1993
She was much later than she said she'd be, but that had been happening a lot lately. Especially this week. Her nights kept getting later and later, skipping dinner and going straight to bed only to get up early in the morning with Anna to make sure she got dressed nicely and fed a healthy breakfast. Radek doubted Eliška did as much for herself, but there was little he could do about it.
"Ela? What time is it?" he asked, listening to her slacks hit the wall before falling into the laundry basket.
She didn't answer until she turned one of the lamps near the wardrobe on to find her night clothes. "One-thirty?"
One-thirty. Damn. He sighed and propped himself up on an elbow, turning on the lamp next to the bed. He kept quiet until she slid into a light blue shirt and closed the wardrobe door. "Are you hungry? I can—"
"No. Thank you."
Eliška almost stomped across the floor, but her steps were carefully modulated so as not to wake the sleeping three-year-old down the hall. Given that she'd slept through Eliška's closing the front door, Anna was a heavier sleeper than Radek was.
Heaving a sigh, Eliška slid under the covers, turned away from him, and covered her head with one arm.
"Want to talk about it?" Radek wondered.
"I want to sleep."
He didn't say anything. She never wanted to talk about it, and even if she did there wasn't anything he could do to make it better. Their spheres of academia sometimes overlapped, but somehow they managed to keep each other out of their respective intersecting circles. Eliška dealt with theoreticals as much as Radek did, but hers were somehow more abstract. At least Radek had the luxury of pretending he could see what he was talking about. It was difficult to visualize the birthplace of prime numbers.
He switched the lamp off and stayed still.
She was crying. Why was she crying?
"Ela…" He leaned over to put his hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away.
"How was Anna tonight?"
That wasn't a question to be answered without significant thought. If he said she was fine, would she bring away the impression that Anna didn't need her? If he said Anna was upset, she would feel even more guilty for not being there. Perhaps even more since her problems weren't likely to magically solve themselves overnight.
Radek pulled the quilt back up to his shoulders. Answer without answering. "I don't know what it is about peas, but she acts like I'm trying to poison her whenever I give her a bowl of them."
Eliška laughed a little. That was good. "She'll grow into them." Her laugh turned into a sob.
"Ela… maybe it would help…?"
"It won't help," she whimpered. "I found out yesterday that one of my datasets was contaminated. We've been analyzing and integrating this for two or three weeks. And now not only do I have to start over, but I have to undo a lot of the work that I've already done."
Radek was only a little familiar with the work she was doing, since their discussions about work and research was usually bookended by talking about Anna. He knew that it was important work for her undergraduate thesis… She already felt she was behind in her coursework, a feeling probably made all the more acute since Radek completed his undergraduate degree a while ago.
He tried to tell her she shouldn't try to keep up with him, but there was no tactful way to say that without sounding conceited or condescending. He was intellectually exceptional, but completely boneheaded when it came to social interactions. She wasn't either of those things. She was most definitely not an idiot; she was very intelligent, and she understood people better than he could ever hope to.
"I feel like I haven't seen Anna in weeks." She took a small breath. So it wasn't necessarily only falling behind, either. It was Anna. He thought he was just tired from watching Anna. Three-year-olds were like blackholes… sucking in all light and energy, unknowable, unpredictable, the greatest mystery that could only be measured by how much of a mess it left lying around.
"And you," she finished quietly.
He'd decided that he only had the capacity to understand just one person, and he hadn't mastered that. He liked to try, though.
"I miss you, too." He put his hand on her arm and hoped she wouldn't push him away again.
It took a moment, but she turned. She swiped her tears away and leaned her head on his arm. A few seconds later, she slid closer, one hand on his chest. He knew before this moment, but not quite so intensely, how long it had been since she was in his arms like this. She could have been a complete disaster in her eyes, too tired and careless to bother being attractive, but he never ceased to find her anything short of enticing.
He settled for a kiss on the side of her head. She seemed to take kindly to it, cuddling closer.
"I can fix it. It will just take… a really long time."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" He'd asked this before. He'd ask it again.
She always said no. "It's fine. I don't need help."
Radek didn't prod her to change her mind. After she'd learned he was such a quick study, he could keep up with her in a lot of the classes he wasn't even taking, she stopped asking for help. She was proud. So was Radek, so he understood Eliška's wanting to solve her own problems, do her own work. She never met a problem she couldn't solve herself, and she didn't make mistakes.
And here she was, suffering for someone else's mistakes. Why couldn't she ask for help with that?
Not that either of them had all the time in the world. Would he have time to help her if she asked? He didn't know if he could make time, now that he thought of it.
"The instructions for dinner weren't too complicated?" she asked a moment later.
It was Radek's turn to laugh. "I think I could have figured it out even if it were rocket science."
"Did you give her a bath?"
Damnit. How did he forget that? "Um… no… I, uh, forgot. Sorry."
She stayed quiet.
"But I did make an extra plate, so that's why I wondered if you were hungry." She should eat, after all. Not eating was bound to make anyone upset, even someone as usually-even-tempered as Eliška.
"It's fine; it's not important." She sighed and shifted closer.
He wanted to argue that it probably was important, but thought better of it. There was no reason to convince her to be angry with him. He rested his chin on her head, listening to her breathe. Her hair smelled like her lab, like a combination of old paint and re-heated leftovers. And almonds. He always noticed it when she walked by.
"Dearest?"
"Hm?"
"Can we just…" She sighed, and her voice quivered. "What if we just left?"
"You mean a holiday or something?" Radek felt guilty that they hadn't enough money before to take any leave for years, no matter how small. Now that they had some money, he didn't have any time. And neither did she.
"No, I mean, just leave. Just go somewhere and not have to… bother with this anymore."
She couldn't have been serious. Radek didn't know how to respond. It might have been a real question in another life, but not this one. Not this life where they were top students, with lives and jobs, with a daughter down the hall. They'd skipped on the ability to go anywhere and do anything. He didn't regret the life he'd chosen. She probably didn't, either.
"I guess… I don't know. I'm not good at planning."
"It's not planning, Ráďa, it's… doing whatever we want."
They'd really missed out on that, hadn't they? Radek missed out on that because he would never do that, even if they were twenty-six and free of responsibility. "I'm even worse at spontaneity." He sighed and tried to make her words fit reality. "My sister could take care of Anna for us. If you really wanted to go somewhere."
Eliška sighed and shook her head against him. "No, no, you're right. You're right. Why am I thinking this?"
Because she was tired? She was hungry. He'd learned that sometimes it was better just to let her talk herself out of unthinking thoughts. She didn't want solutions to her problems. She never wanted solutions, which was good, because he had precious few to offer this situation.
It wasn't a bad idea, though. Radek had no doubt that Emílie would take care of Anna for them for a week. He could find a place to get away outside the city. He could surprise her. But if he did that, she'd wonder what in the world he was thinking, taking them away from their jobs and Anna for that long.
He wanted to, but he knew that he'd never be able to pull that off, anyway. It was nice to think about.
"I hope your day was better," she said quietly.
His day was mostly awful. Some of the others in the lab were insufferable morons. It was all he could do to keep a civil tongue around most of them while he fixed their mistakes. But he could come home and spend the whole evening with Anna. They played board games, though not the way the rules prescribed. He watched her color while he tried to reconcile a notebook full of equations that weren't playing nicely. Then he tucked Anna into bed about six hours ago with a story about a swan. The equations still weren't cooperating.
"It was," he answered. "I'm sorry yours was so terrible…" With that, he sighed and ran his fingers down her arm. "I wish I could do something to help you."
But she wouldn't let him. So what was he supposed to do?
To his surprise, she curled closer and wrapped an arm around him. "You do."
#
September, 1994
"Are you serious, Míla?" It was like he'd never used a camera before.
It was 1994, and the world was new.
It felt new, anyway. Radek had a new job, being paid to attend school. Someone out there was giving him money to get his doctorate in physics. His hours were filled with math and science at the university, not giving him a lot of time for things like this.
Things like family. Things like the park. Things like cameras.
Anna darted back and forth on the sidewalk, laughing as she chased invisible butterflies with her net. Radek and Eliška walked side-by-side on the walk, hand in hand for most of the way. Radek's younger brother, Miloš, not so young anymore, followed them with his new camera. His obsession with cameras managed to predate his obsession with currency—west German, UK, and American currency, specifically, though Radek like to think that his familiar koruna would be worth something someday.
Miloš had always loved cameras, taking pictures of everything in vision. Today was no different, and he apparently brought many rolls of film to document the occasion of a walk in the park.
Eliška hooked her arm in his and laughed, shaking her head. "No, please, take more pictures." She gave Radek a glare. He couldn't tell if she meant it playfully or not. "He's impossible to photographically capture otherwise."
"Not impossible," Radek objected.
"You don't like cameras, do you?"
Radek shook his head. "I don't have an opinion."
He didn't mind cameras, usually, when he was near one. But he wasn't near one very often. Eliška somehow managed to have taken hundreds of pictures of Anna in a very short time. Many of them were of Anna intently inspecting the local insect population. Even Miloš, who had only been with them a few hours, was keenly aware of her interest in insects and took to calling her "Little Bug" instead of anything remotely close to her given name.
Sometimes Radek could pretend that he'd been there for the times these pictures were taken, but he knew very well he wasn't. Maybe he should have been more jealous of the space before the camera. Prove he was here sometimes. He didn't know when the top of Anna's head reached his belt, but it felt like yesterday he could hold her entirely on one arm.
He wasn't so oblivious that he'd missed it all, but he felt like he was missing more and more as time went on. He was spending more and more time working, while Anna was growing up and Eliška was neglecting more and more of her work to be with her. Or perhaps neglecting her courses so that Radek could continue on his path. Radek didn't watch Anna as many nights a week as he used to…
Anna ran behind them, squealing and ordering her invisible beetles to come back and let her catch them.
"Thank you for this, Miloš," Eliška sighed happily. "It is a beautiful day and I think Ráďa might have stayed home with his calculators if he had the chance."
"Sounds like the brother I remember," Miloš said. He snapped another photo of Anna running into the dying grass, stopping to pick up a twig with brown leaves still clinging to it. "Thank you for inviting me to see you."
Radek still didn't trust Miloš, and Eliška knew that. He had a bad habit of borrowing money and never returning it. He had many bad habits, but that particular one led to his lying and cheating. Radek tried to get him to straighten his life out through various means. Eliška apparently thought a home meal would help.
"You're always welcome," she said.
That was going too far. But it was unlikely Miloš would come calling again any time soon. Radek knew from experience that he dropped in and out of others' lives at his convenience, and usually to ask for things.
But Eliška was happy, and Radek was content to let her be.
It was an illusion. It was like Miloš trying to trick him into giving him another bundle of crowns, because he'd pay it back this time, he swore.
Radek kept doing the same old thing, too. He was no better than Mila. He would spend this weekend with Ela and Anna, he swore. Today it worked out, but it was a rare day. Like Eliška said, it was a beautiful day.
Eliška did him a favor to hide the argument they had before coming to the park. Miloš needed someone to be like, and Eliška was kind enough to lie that Radek was someone worth imitating.
"Uncle Miloš, Uncle Miloš!" Anna ran up holding her net in both hands like she'd caught something. "Look, take a picture!"
Miloš knelt on the sidewalk and waited for Anna to show him her treasure. Radek seriously doubted she'd caught an actual bug. It was more likely to be an imaginary one. Or she might have put one of her butterfly clips in the net to pretend it was real. Radek could have sworn there were four of them in her hair this morning, and she only had three now.
"Let's see it, Little Bug." Miloš gamely raised his camera.
Anna opened her hand and squealed in delight at the live pillbug trying to crawl up the net. She looked back at Radek and Eliška, a proud grin on her face. "I caught it," she announced.
"What a lovely bug," Eliška said, leaning down to get a closer look.
It was an ordinary pillbug, and Radek had seen her pick these up off the sidewalk in front of their home a hundred times or so. Still, he smiled and said, "Good job, Little."
Miloš snapped a picture and said, "Okay. I got a good picture of it." He looked up, smiled when he saw Radek and Eliška standing back and watching. "Why don't we get a picture of you with your mom and dad, Little Bug?"
Anna looked back, smiling, too. She shook her head, with a glint of mischief. "If you can catch me," she said, almost out of breath with her excitement. She dashed off at the fastest pace a four-year-old could manage down the sidewalk. "You can't catch the Little Bug, Táta!"
"I can't?" Radek laughed.
It wasn't as if it were difficult to catch her, but sometimes it was hard to keep a hold of her. She was really quite good at squirming out of tight spaces. Still, he made a game of not catching her immediately. Her laughter seemed to fill the whole park and made the butterflies dance.
He caught her a few seconds later and hugged her close. "I think I've caught a ladybug, Ela," he called over his shoulder.
Eliška watched, looking happier than he remembered seeing her in a long time.
"I'm not a ladybug," Anna objected, laughing and twisting every which way to get out of his arms.
"Oh? You aren't?"
"No!" Anna laughed and squealed when he picked her up.
"What are you, then?"
"I'm a butterfly."
"A butterfly?" He lifted her up onto his shoulders. "What's it like to fly?"
#
July, 1995
"Radek, wait a minute." Eliška looked around their home with the distinct expression of displeasure.
What did he do now? Or, rather, what didn't he do? That was usually the problem these days.
"I can't, Ela." Radek picked up his books and slid his calculator into the bag. The calculator was new, his most prized possession, and he had to try very hard to not let it get scuffed in all the chaos around here. "I'm already late."
"You promised Anna you'd see her recital."
Had he? Had he, really? Some days he thought if he heard the melody of "Sleep, Johnny, Sleep" one more time, he might go insane. At least Anna was good at getting clear notes from her little violin. And he was proud of her, actually. She stuck with the violin despite continually insisting that she didn't like it. Eliška made her keep going with it, and they argued about that, too. There was nothing they didn't argue about anymore.
The melodies of lullabies were not exactly standing ovation material, anyway.
"I will," Radek said. "Just not this one, okay? This is really important."
"It's always important," Eliška mumbled. "You think that it's easy for me? I'm behind in all my coursework, but Anna is only going to be five this year. Next year she'll be six, then seven."
Radek sighed and wondered why she was walking him through this simple addition.
"She'll never be five again, and I don't want to miss it."
"I don't either. And I won't. Ela, just because I'm missing this one recital doesn't mean I'm missing everything." He'd been to a recital before, anyway. He didn't remember when, and he was willing to bet that Anna didn't, either. "She's five. She won't remember if I miss this one."
"This one, no," Eliška mumbled. "But what about all of them?"
Radek turned his eyes up to the ceiling. "One is not all of them. Think about it. You're the mathematician."
Eliška huffed. "Sometimes I wonder why we even wanted children."
"You did."
The house creaked like it was frozen.
Radek shut his eyes as silence filled the whole house. Did he just hear those words come out of his mouth? He slowly straightened over his bag, looking over his shoulder toward Eliška.
There were tears in her eyes, her hand was over her mouth. He must have said it.
"What?" She cast a quick glance toward the hallway.
Radek followed her eyes, praying that Anna hadn't heard. Only the sound of a little violin playing "Sleep, Johnny, Sleep" drifted to his ears. Her constant practice was suddenly a benefit.
He turned toward Eliška, trying to catch his breath because he'd forgotten to breathe.
"Ela, I didn't mean that. I didn't, you know that, right? Ela?" He reached for her arm, but she jerked away and stalked into the kitchen.
Tears glassed her eyes as she brushed him away with shaking hands. "Just go to work."
He put his hands through his hair and followed her. The walls closed in where he stood just beyond the doorframe. "Ela, please, don't think that."
"How could you?" she whispered. That look in her eyes was something he'd never really seen before. He'd seen her angry, he'd seen her disappointed. He'd seen her sad, and this was none of that.
He deserved this.
"How could you say that?"
"I didn't…"
"You didn't mean it?" Eliška sneered in a whisper. A whisper so shrill she could have screamed at him and it would have been better. "How did you—what are—I can't—?" She spun toward him, and threw her hands up in his face. "Leave. Please. Go. Go to work."
"Ela."
"Radek!"
There was nothing else to do about it. The walls pressed up against him on all sides, like he couldn't breathe. He didn't press it; he didn't want it to turn into another argument for Anna to witness. They usually stopped their yelling before Anna took much notice, before it got out of hand.
What was he supposed to do? It wasn't as if he could just leave all his work undone.
But what had possessed him? Why the hell had that thought even crossed his mind?
It was true, six years ago he hadn't wanted children, but… that was six years ago.
Just 2.7 kilograms. He didn't know why he remembered that, except that sometimes he remembered numbers better than anything else. She was tiny and fragile, nothing to hold in his arms. He thought all babies looked virtually the same: wrinkled and pink and rarely nice to look at.
Nothing prepared him for his. He loved Anna the moment he saw her, five years and seven months ago.
She was much larger now, multiples of 2.7 kilograms. He surveyed the wreckage left behind by an enthusiastic five-year-old more interested in adding and subtracting than drawing dogs. Pencils and paper and stuffed tigers and butterflies. No room in the house was safe from her, either. He couldn't study in his bedroom, because she'd find him there to show him her kindergarten math homework. The office wasn't even off-limits, because she liked to pull up her little chair to pretend to work on her own "important things" when he was working.
God, he loved that. Very few things made him so happy.
He wouldn't change this for the world, so what—?
Radek picked up his bag and glanced in the kitchen before heading to the front door. Eliška sobbed over the dishwater. He carefully walked into the kitchen, but knew better than to try to touch her. "I love you." He paused, unsure if he could continue through his quivering voice. "And I love Anna. You know that. Right?"
"Radek. Just go."
He nodded.
He'd go to work. He wouldn't get anything done, but he'd go.
He went out onto the front porch, closed the door, and leaned back. How was he going to fix this? Flowers weren't going to cut it. What was he supposed to do? Go back in there and go with them to the recital?
Even if he wanted to, he had to be at the lab. He simply couldn't go, and Ela knew that.
But he didn't want to go. Did that make him a horrible person?
It did.
Even if he didn't want to go, what the hell possessed him to say that? That alone was proof, wasn't it?
But he didn't mean it. She had to know that.
He cleared the hair from his eyes, covering his head from some imagined blow. "I didn't mean it…" No one could hear him.
Even if she did hear, it didn't matter anymore.
She called him Radek.
#
March, 1997
"Ela, please, pick up the phone."
Radek sat against the headboard. This was the nicest hotel he'd ever been in. In Berlin. So far from home.
What home?
He flipped the file folder back and forth in his hand. He saw it coming, really. Eliška barely even looked at him in months, hadn't come near him for even longer. When she spoke to him, she ended up yelling. He yelled back. He said all sorts of things he didn't mean. He hoped she didn't mean the things she said, either, but then she gave this to him before he left. She told him that she and Anna would be gone before he got back.
The last thing he wanted was to return to the house and find it empty.
Anna's toys and books gone.
He'd rather just not go back.
He was so tired, he hadn't objected. He was tired of fighting with her, tired of her assuming all these things that weren't true, that couldn't possibly be true. Maybe the worst thing was seeing it coming, with nothing to do about it. Any gesture meant to fix it was taken the wrong way, any misstep magnified. He was tired of lying in bed next to her at night and trying to imagine how he'd feel when this happened. He imagined he was steeled against it. He wouldn't be hurt by a blow he'd seen coming, would he?
He was wrong. He'd never been this wrong.
He waited until last night to look at the papers neatly typed by a divorce lawyer. When he got into the room, he sat at the desk and turned through the pages one at a time. She said she didn't want much, and she wasn't lying. She didn't want the house, she didn't want as much of his salary as she probably could have gotten.
He read them last night and didn't bother to save the pages from his tears. He wasn't going to sign them.
"I know it's over, alright? But I'm not going to sign these," he told the machine. He hoped Eliška would listen to the message, not just erase it after hearing his voice. She was probably sitting next to the phone right now. Probably sent Anna away to her room when she heard his voice. "I'm going to keep calling, Eliška. I need you to pick up the phone."
The line clicked. He heard her breathing. "You have to sign them, Radek."
He shook his head, choking at her voice. He should have been angry, but he wasn't. He didn't know why. Maybe he was too tired to be angry. He flipped the folder away. It opened, scattering the wrinkled pages on the floor. "I don't want the house. You don't have to move out. Okay? Don't move out."
She paused for a long time. "Where are you going to live?"
"Somewhere," he said. "Somewhere close, but you have to let me see Anna."
"No."
He slammed his head back on the headboard. "Please, Ela." He loved both of them, and she couldn't see. Why couldn't she see? "You can't do that. It's wrong."
"You want to know what's wrong, Radek?" she snapped in a whisper. Probably to save Anna from hearing yet another argument. At least she'd only hear half of it, this time.
He hated this. Anna deserved better. He knew that, but he didn't want to just give her up, either. Or maybe he should. Anna probably didn't even remember the last time they went to the theater together. The last time they went to a park. He saw her almost every day, and he wouldn't recognize her if he saw her playing on a playground.
He set his jaw. "I know that Anna needs her father."
"Well, it would be nice if she had one, then, wouldn't it?"
Eliška sighed during the stunned silence that followed.
Why did she have to say things like that? "Tell you what, Eliška, why don't you just fly up here to the hotel. I'll give you a knife and you can look me in the eye this time."
"Don't be stupid."
He hung his head.
"I don't want to drag Anna into this…" Eliška sighed shakily. "You think I want this?"
"If I knew what you wanted, I wouldn't be sitting here looking at these damned divorce papers." It was a wonder the phone hadn't broken, he was gripping it so hard. He looked toward the window, the snow on the city outside. At least he was in Germany. They had good alcohol here, too.
Eliška cleared her throat. "We both know that you can't find a place to live so soon."
"I'll go to my mother's. She'll take me for a few weeks, probably. I have family, you don't. Let me leave, it's fine. Just…" He tried for a few seconds to get a grip on his shaking voice, but it wouldn't obey. "Please, you can't take Anna away."
Anna somehow still loved him. He wasn't sure how, but she did. She smiled every time she saw him, hugged him, showed him all her school work, and wanted to talk to him whenever he would.
Whenever he'd talk to her. He knew now he didn't take advantage of that as often as he should have. Sometimes he asked her to leave, because he was busy. And she did. What the hell was he thinking?
"Don't make me take you to court."
Eliška offered a sniff of derision. "Court? Are you serious?" She paused. "You wouldn't do that, Radek." Maybe she thought he was too smart for that, or that he didn't care enough to try. How could she think all these things?
He knew how.
"You say you'll do things that you never do. Radek—when was the last time you saw her? Really?" Eliška paused, maybe long enough for Radek to say something. When he didn't, she continued. "You want to share custody so she can go to care after school and wait for you until you decide to come home at night?"
"I'll change—" No, he wouldn't. What was he talking about? She was right. Little girls didn't grow on good intentions and broken promises.
"Think about it," she snapped, again, throwing his own words back in his face. Words he must have said a hundred times to remind Eliška she was being unreasonable and emotional. "You never made time for her before; why do you think you will now?"
He never made time? That wasn't fair… He did… sometimes…
Radek only paid some attention when Anna showed him her things, things she was proud of. She just wanted to be noticed, wanted him to be proud, too. That was all. She didn't ask for much; why didn't he give her what she asked for?
It would be better for Anna, wouldn't it? People never changed. Radek wasn't so naïve to think that even if he got another chance, he'd be able to fix it. He had no idea how. Eliška never told Anna she was too busy for her. Never let Anna think for a moment that anything in the world was more important.
It didn't matter if Radek believed Anna was more important than anything. If Anna didn't know that, it didn't matter what he thought. Even if Radek managed to win some sort of custody arrangement, a slim shot given the disposition of the court system, he wouldn't deserve it.
Waste of money, waste of time. He wouldn't win. Anna would be his in no way except on a birth certificate. Even if Radek won, what was he getting? Every other weekend, if he was lucky. Maybe some holidays.
What would Anna get? Months and years of stress to remember him by if he lost. Even if he won, all those stressful days only to see the one who sent her away.
Radek asked Anna to leave because he was busy. And she did.
Radek didn't deserve her.
"Fine, Ela, fine. I won't. Will you just…?" He let the phone rest on his shoulder as he sobbed.
"Radek, I didn't mean—please…" Eliška whispered.
At least she waited for him to finish his sentence. He caught his voice back long enough to say, "Just tell her I love her, yeah? Will you tell her for me?"
At least Eliška was crying, too. "Yes."
"Every day?"
She didn't answer that.
He shut his eyes and took a breath. Waited for what felt like minutes.
"So, do you want the papers updated or not?" she asked finally.
He shook his head and said, "Sure."
He waited for her to say something else, ask for something else. She didn't.
"Ela, didn't we have… weren't we good together?" He didn't know why he asked, because he was afraid of what she'd say. He might have been the only one who had good memories anymore.
"When there was a 'we.'"
It was so close, he could feel it. So far away, he couldn't see it. She might not even remember it. "Na shledanou, Ela," he said.
He wanted to say he still loved her, but he didn't want to seem coercive. But he didn't want to lie. She wouldn't believe him. This might be the last time he would ever tell her.
"Miluji tě."
She hung up the phone.
He couldn't feel any more lifeless if she sent him a dozen roses.
He didn't put the phone back on the receiver, let it fall to the thin quilt and listened to the silence. He thought he was over this last night. He thought he'd be fine today. He'd pick up the pieces, and get back to work. He went to his conference, but he wasn't fine. He wasn't fine this morning, and he wasn't fine now.
He rested his head in shaking hands, trying to catch his breath and, for god's sake, stop crying. It was over.
Radek would go back to the seminar tomorrow, give some presentation on something—some paper he helped write. He didn't even remember. He didn't care. He'd lost everything, lost everything that mattered. How was he supposed to care about gravitational constants? Magnetic fields? Any of it? He was sure he could have made a good life for them.
Now, maybe, just for him.
But Radek didn't know how magnetism worked.
He didn't know anything anymore.
#
February, 1999
Radek squinted at the sudden bright light pouring in from the window. Emílie bustled around the room, picking up stray clothes and books and setting them in different piles. "Up, Radek, come on. You can't sleep forever."
Radek sighed and covered his eyes. He could hear his little nephew downstairs, babbling. He was only one, and he was a terror. Radek didn't remember Anna being like that. Not even a little. He remembered her being difficult, but Josef was hell-spawn. He had the decency not to tell his little sister that, though.
Maybe he just decided that the only good child in the world was his own. Even though he hadn't seen her in two years, now…
"You can't let me give it a try?" he asked.
Emílie smirked and tossed a shirt across the room. Radek wasn't fast enough to catch it before it landed on his face. "You know, I'm happy to have you here, Big Brother, but it's been weeks now." She sighed helplessly. "I keep thinking what máma and tata would say to me if I turned my own brother out into the cold…"
"Well, they aren't here, so you can do whatever you want." It was a philosophy their brother had used to great effect in the past weeks. Radek had never so wanted to strangle him. It would be better just to forget it and never see him again. Because, if he did, he probably would strangle him.
Emílie heaved a sigh. "I still can't believe he did that to you." Apparently Miloš was fresh on her mind, too.
"To us," Radek reminded. He glanced at her with a half a smile as he sat up. The house was always cold, which might have explained his lazy habits for the past two weeks. "But it's kind of you to try to make my situation look worse than it is, Ema. Thank you."
"I'm sorry about everything that's happened, I really am," Emílie said.
Radek watched her fold a few stray shirts and pants. Emílie probably understood better than their definitely more attractive brother ever would. Emílie, like Radek, was a bit homely and awkward. Radek remembered her coming to Máma's house years ago weeping because she'd been dating Viktor for a year and he hadn't spoken one word about marriage or made any indication he was serious at all about their relationship. She was getting older, she said. If Viktor didn't marry her, how was she ever going to find anyone else who would?
Radek had some similar concerns. Eliška was probably Radek's one chance at a life like that. She had been one of a kind, looked past his clumsy conversation skills. Máma told him he was being ridiculous; he was barely over thirty. But she also said he was smart and he was kind, so she obviously didn't know what he was talking about half the time, anyway.
"I really thought I'd stay with Máma a few more years, though," he said quietly.
He still couldn't believe it. He'd expected their father to die young, so his death wasn't shocking. He worked hard to keep them clothed and fed and sheltered as children. It didn't help when the house burned down that one winter… Memories of those three months—or maybe it was only weeks or even days; memories were strange like that—made this house seem toasty and cozy in comparison.
But his mother… she was fine one day, and gone the next. The past few years only taught Radek that he had no business making plans for the future. He thought he'd be with Eliška for the rest of his life, but that didn't work out, either.
"I'm sorry, Radek. I'm sorry about everything. But if you stay much longer, I fear my own marriage won't stay together. I can't afford that, you know?" She smiled slightly, like she knew she was joking. Still concerned.
Radek hadn't meant to make her life harder, though. He'd done enough of that for a lifetime. "Viktor is good. He wouldn't leave you for something like that."
Emílie smiled. "And he does like you, really."
"I shouldn't have stayed so long. I'm sorry." He put his fingers through his hair and then pulled the wrinkled dress shirt on over the t-shirt he had on. The shirt was plaid, like his flannel pants. No wonder he never went outside. He slid out from under the quilt. "I'll figure something out…"
It would be difficult. He'd been living with his mother since the divorce, paying rent for the apartment they shared. Máma was sympathetic and didn't mind the company. She wanted someone to take care of, and her oldest was certainly a willing participant. In return, he made sure she had everything she could have needed or wanted. He also did the laundry, because that was the singular household chore she despised. Radek didn't look forward to the day he'd have to cook his own dinner.
Then Miloš took everything, thanks to Máma's bafflement regarding anything legal or technical or monetary. It was probably illegal, but there wasn't much to begin with and no one wanted to bother with court proceedings. Radek couldn't imagine his mother's reaction, dragging his brother to court over inheritance.
Radek hadn't spoken to him since the day of the funeral, and those words had been a few choice obscenities between his telling Miloš exactly what he was now: a drunk, a gambler, a liar, a thief, and cheat. Worthless. His irresponsible and thoughtless behavior contributed to Máma's deteriorating health, and he didn't ever want to see Miloš again. Radek didn't regret saying any of it, either.
Emílie was a better person than Radek was, used to giving Miloš the benefit of the doubt. Used to being kind despite plenty of reasons not to. She was loyal to everyone whose trust she'd won, yet somehow loyal to no one but herself. She never took sides, and always listened. Even Eliška still talked to her from time to time. Radek wished he was like Emílie at least a little.
Emílie sighed, folding her arms over her chest the way she did when she was about to scold Josef, even though the kid had no idea what she was saying. "You don't give up this easy, do you?"
He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"It's been months since you wrote something, or were working on writing something."
She was right. He was a mess, and he didn't admit it. It was why his money had run out, actually. It was hard to keep a job he wasn't doing. The last things he published were two years old, the things he was working on while he was still with Eliška. He tinkered with a few ideas, but nothing seriously. He didn't know how Emílie knew that, though. Maybe that he hadn't touched a calculator or a sheet of paper in months was a dead giveaway. He'd certainly emptied more bottles of beer than pens of ink lately.
"Maybe I do give up this easy…"
"Brother…" Emílie sat down on the end of the bed while he hunted around in the dresser for socks. "You're smart. You're very smart. You shouldn't spend the rest of your life staying in your nephew's bedroom, should you?"
Radek shook his head. Mostly because, any month now, Josef would move from the crib in his parents' room in here, and that was the last thing Radek wanted to be around for. Not because he thought he was better than this, though.
"What are you going to do about it?" Emílie asked.
"I had a few thoughts about magnetic fields last night…" He hoped that sounded intelligent enough for her.
She might not have been a genius, but she was savvy. "Radek," she warned. "I may not understand anything you talk about, but I do know when you're patronizing me."
He chuckled. "Just testing."
"Good. Just make sure it's something scientific next time." Emílie sighed and walked toward the door. "There's rye bread and sausage downstairs if you're hungry."
"Thanks, Ema."
#
December, 2000
Ten years ago, if someone told him that he'd be attending a science conference in New York City on invitation to speak, he'd call them crazy. His English was horrible, but he wanted this so badly he would have learned to speak Telugu if he thought it would help. He wasn't sure what was so fascinating about projectiles in zero-gravity, but someone around here was very interested indeed.
He stood in a corner near a few other Czech scientists who'd congregated with some Germans. Maybe he should have given more attention to his German, too. His German was little better than his English. Though, writing in English helped.
He was going to just butcher the entire English language for his talk, wasn't he?
What if someone asked him questions? Freeform English. His worst nightmare.
Nope, his worst nightmare was approaching. A tall, blond woman, flanked by a few intelligent-looking Americans. She was wearing a military uniform. He wasn't familiar with the US military uniforms, but it was blue and shiny. She looked very important, and… That was not... Coming to talk to him…?
"Doctor Radek Zelenka?" The blond woman stopped in front of him, standing straight like… well, a military officer. "I'm—"
"Doctor Samantha Carter, yeah, I know who you are." He took her offered hand, laughing nervously. She smelled like lilacs. "Oh, my god, this is like meeting a celebrity." He was hopeless, wasn't he?
She smiled politely. "Well, I could say the same. Your paper on magnetic propulsion in zero-gravity has been a pretty popular topic where we come from. Doctor Collins and Doctor Lee." She stepped to one side to introduce her companions.
He said hello to each of them, trying not to wonder too hard about what the American military could want with space guns. Because, honestly, there wasn't a lot else one want with slugs in zero-gravity, was there? "Um, a popular, uh…?" He frowned, suddenly feeling like he should have stayed in the Czech Republic. Russia was comparatively next door, but it was the devil he knew.
"Don't worry, Doctor Zelenka, it's nothing too exciting." Doctor Collins looked pretty laid back, and younger than his counterpart, Doctor Lee. "The problem with theoretical physics is that we only get to see the last generation of theory come to practice, huh? It's our kids who get to work on our stuff."
Radek nodded enthusiastically, maybe too enthusiastically for how he felt. "Maybe, yeah, but…"
"But railguns are cool no matter where they are, huh? Theoretical or not," Doctor Lee joked. He laughed a little too much for whatever it was he just said.
"That depends on what they're pointed at?"
Carter, Collins, and Lee nodded sagely, as if there was something Radek was missing. Something big. Something that put railguns in space. They exchanged glances, though, like Radek said something more important than he realized. The world seemed pretty safe right now, but things like that could change quickly. Especially if there were railguns in space.
"I read your paper on plasma projectiles," Collins offered. "And you like your high-yield explosives."
Radek didn't know anyone read those misguided attempts at genius a few years ago. "Yes, well, lately I haven't pursued energy… um…"
"Weapons?" Carter suggested.
"Um. Yeah." He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Last time I worked for the military, um… we were Communist, so…" He didn't know what else to say about that, but he knew Americans didn't exactly have warm feelings toward that system of government. At least, they didn't used to. He knew very little about Americans, actually. He didn't know how to explain he wasn't keen on working for any sort of government: communist, republic, monarchy, or… well, whatever other kinds there were. Radek knew many things, but his knowledge where civic systems and Americans were concerned was limited.
Still… he would have loved to work with energy weapons, but those were so far in the realm of science fiction that it was more an on-again-off-again hobby than actual work. Even if ground-breaking defense contracting was lucrative, the only interesting thing he used his money for these days was pigeon racing.
Carter smiled politely at his joke and offered a way for the conversation to not crash and burn. He almost wished she would just let him go back to his Czech corner until it was time to speak again. "So you decided to pursue…?"
"Magnets."
She laughed, like that was the joke. Radek didn't see what was funny. "Sorry," she said finally. "I have a friend who tries to solve everything with magnets."
"Well, maybe I should meet him. We might, um…" No magnetism jokes, Radek.
She pulled a business card out of her pocket, handed it to him, mercifully stopping him before he made an even bigger fool of himself. "We're working on a project, Doctor Zelenka. I think you'll find it incredibly engaging." She checked with Doctor Collins, for some reason, who nodded. "We'd love to bring you on board."
He didn't know what he said, but it must not have been anything of substance. Maybe he complimented her uniform. He hoped not, though. Maybe he mumbled something in Czech.
"Tell you what," Collins said, when Radek didn't give anything like a positive response. "I'm going to your presentation. Afterward, what do you say we go for drinks, and I read you in a bit. You might have to sign away your life on the dotted line, but it won't be permanent."
He was joking, too. Why was everyone joking? How big was this? Why did he accept that invitation to go to New York?
Because he didn't speak Telugu. He did speak English. At least, he thought he did. A little.
"Yeah, yeah." Why did he accept Collins's invitation? "Who has a life, you know?"
Collins chuckled. "Perfect."
The conversation might have ended on a fine note, but Radek couldn't tell. He stumbled through his presentation, terrified the whole time he'd regress into Czech. He made it, though, just in time for his co-author to take over. Michal knew English little better, but he was universally considered easier to listen to. Radek wasn't sure why, but Radek didn't mind handing over some of his work to be presented by the prettier mouthpiece.
He answered the few questions and waited for the room to clear. True to his word, Collins sat three rows back in the center, waiting for everyone to stop talking and leave. Even Michal retreated back to the Czech corner in the main room at the conference. When he wasn't talking about magnetic fields, he spoke of getting drunk and the company of women who couldn't tell Czech from Russian. Women who probably didn't know the Czech Republic existed at all. Women who were probably only a few blocks from this building, but certainly not here with them.
Radek stepped off the stage, casting a glance back to his presentation title page. His name in bright letters still seemed surreal. "How did you think?"
Collins smirked. "Fascinating, as usual. All the more proof that we need you on this project."
Radek sighed. "This project…" he repeated. Need. That didn't bode well for his future, here or at home.
Who was he kidding, though? His future at home was just more of the same. He had plenty of time to work on all the projects he wanted. So much time that he found himself lying awake in the middle of the night thinking of everything but his projects.
Anna was ten this year.
"Project Prometheus," Collins filled in, going to stand next to him. He had the grin of a schoolboy playing wargames. Didn't make Radek feel any better about the coming proposal.
"Mysterious."
Radek followed Collins out to the conference's main hall. Michal gave him a look as they walked by, but immediately went back to comparing notes with some of the other scientists.
Collins didn't give any further information while they walked down the hallway and went upstairs. The bar, inexplicably, was deserted. It had been empty of humanity every day that Radek had gone by, and he questioned the quality of the alcohol. It had to be good, considering the high-profile catering. Collins picked up a few glasses of beer and motioned for Radek to take a seat by the wide window looking out on Manhattan.
"The world is in a little bit of trouble."
"If this is about, uh…" What was the word? "Terrorists…?"
"No." Collins cut him off before Radek could finish his thought. "What I'm about to tell you is privileged information, Doctor Zelenka." He leaned back with his beer. "Your designs are pretty damn good. We need them. Or something like them. So we want to bring you on to improve them."
"I don't really…" That sounded a little too hands-on for Radek. "I don't really want to work in weapons anymore."
But, like it or not, that was what he did. The look Collins gave him said exactly that.
But what were they doing with it? Doctors Carter, Collins, and Lee had diverse interests. Magnetic fields? Carter wrote a paper on wormhole physics that, to Radek's eyes, was theoretically sound but almost nonsense given the mass conclusions she jumped to from seeming nowhere. He recalled Doctor Lee working with things like propulsion… in vacuums… something like that. Collins was a near-genius with ideas on the cusp of some ground-breaking ideas in compact data storage. Or circuitry. Or something like that. Put those things with high-yield explosives and energy weapons, and Radek didn't like to think where they were headed with that.
"I'm sorry. What does the American military want? What are you building, um, exactly?"
Collins glanced around. "Like I said, Doctor Zelenka. It's not the American military. It's the world."
"Could have fooled me," Radek mumbled. "With the American military uniform."
Collins found that funny. "Fair point. Let me put it this way: it's not just the American military. It's part of a multi-national endeavor." He looked to see if anyone was close. There wasn't, but his voice dropped to a whisper, anyway. "You know who we are, right? You know we want you. You're a smart guy."
"I can only think of one reason you'd want to put a railgun in space…"
Collins nodded sagely.
Radek laughed. He couldn't help it. Was he saying that there was some sort of threat out there that required railguns and—Collins, at least, was smiling, too. Maybe he recognized how ridiculous this was.
"You're kidding me."
Collins shook his head.
Radek smirked. Designing guns for a spaceship was something straight out of a science-fiction novel, and something he'd only dreamed of doing. When he wasn't dreaming of other things… "Are you telling me there are things in space that we need to point railguns at?"
"I'm telling you this is one hell of a space-race, and the stakes are too high to lose."
Radek took a deep breath. Maybe this was exactly what he was looking for. "Well, won't the Russians be disappointed?"
#
September, 2004
Radek sank back in the chair at the SGC, trying to remember to breathe. "I am?"
Doctor Weir nodded. "You're qualified. You've done work for the Stargate program in the past. Are you still interested?" She gave him a careful once over. "There's no guarantee when… or if, we'd get back to Earth."
That wasn't so much a deal-breaker. It was more like the cherry on the cake. No, no, the icing on the cake? Whatever, his American idioms were hopeless, anyway. "That's not so much a consideration." Maybe in another galaxy, he'd be too busy to think of the things he hadn't done here.
With everything he'd done, he could only ever think of one thing when the nights, more often than not, were quiet. That was one thing he missed about his apartment in Littleton, Colorado, walking distance to the lab where he worked. It was so quiet at night, he swore he could hear the stars. And all the things he hadn't done. He was too young for that kind of thinking.
All the things he'd hadn't done. Please. He'd built spaceships, worked on alien energy weapons for that spaceship. He'd glimpsed an alien in the flesh—but he wasn't sure he could really call that flesh. He'd done more than he would have thought to imagine when he was thirty. And he had to be honest. If he was a thirty-seven year old with a wife and daughter, he wouldn't be going to another galaxy, would he?
Was it worth it?
It didn't matter if it was worth it. This was what he had, and he was making the best of it.
He couldn't seem to make up for his mistakes. He was too busy for that.
"Alright." Doctor Weir smiled a bit and nodded. "Welcome to the expedition, then, Doctor Zelenka."
He left the room in a hurry. He walked in the most immediately available direction and eventually ended up in the elevator. He stood in the back in shock. Maybe giddy shock. Working on designs for the new spaceship was getting a little on the boring side.
Collins called yesterday with news of his acceptance onto the Atlantis expedition. They were going to wait for Radek's acceptance, and then celebrate. Except that Collins met the head science team member and Radek had heard of him in passing.
It would be better if they celebrated now, because later they might regret working for Doctor M. R. McKay. No one had yet divined what that initial M was for, since he apparently introduced himself as Rodney McKay. Everyone knew him by his initials, anyway, the brilliant papers he penned, the theories he skewered and built up on his towering intellect.
M. R. McKay had no friends to call him anything but Doctor McKay, so it didn't matter what his name was.
Radek had a few friends who called him "Radek." Collins, for example. There were three Wills in proximity, and Collins didn't mind going by his last name. Radek was the only one of his kind for miles, but most people called him Zelenka, even if they were going for drinks.
He went to the little room they'd assigned him.
It was September. He'd missed her name day… again. He wasn't even sure if Eliška was giving her his few letters. He sat at the desk and pulled out the blank notepad and the pen. It was like that cheap hotel stationary… except cheaper and without the letterhead.
He put the pen to the paper and started to write. Then he remembered he should be writing in Czech, so he had to start over.
Just yesterday he told himself he should go back. Anna was fourteen this year, and maybe Eliška could be convinced he'd grown up enough to be in his daughter's life. He'd been offered a position at the research university in Brno. Far enough to limit his visits like Eliška might want, but still close enough. Of course, just when things felt like they were getting dull around here, they were putting together a team to go to another galaxy.
Anna only returned his letters twice before, not that he wrote all that often. He had friends and a life here, and an opportunity he couldn't possibly pass up. People seemed to like him, or at least tolerate him. He couldn't say that for the people he'd be going back for.
Měj se Anna, he started.
I'm still living in the USA in Colorado, and autumn is very nice here.
#
August, 2005
"Security clearance?"
Radek frowned at Ford. He should have thought of that. He slid his glasses back up on his nose and waved away whatever it was the kid was saying. Maybe trying to explain security clearance—well, Radek was building top-secret spaceships when this kid was still in boot camp. "Vím co je 'security clearance,'" * he mumbled. Thank you very much.
Nothing like a young marine to make him feel incredibly old…
"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Erase that. Start over."
Ford grinned, turned back the recording, and realigned the camera. "Let me know when you're ready."
Radek nodded.
Ford waited patiently. Maybe a bit too patiently. Ford was going to die along with the rest of them, and shouldn't he be concerned? Maybe just a little. Ford was too young to die, too bright-eyed and happy to be here. Weren't they all, in one way or another?
"Who are you recording for?" Radek asked, trying to gather his thoughts. He couldn't tell her about the city, so he wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't been around for half her life. More than half.
Ford's grin was nearly contagious. Good thing, too; Radek probably should smile for Anna. "My grandma and grandpa. They're pretty much like my parents." He nodded and suddenly looked concerned. "What about you? Who are you recording for?"
Radek sighed and smiled a little. He didn't think that Ford even remembered who he was, outside of that guy who poked fun for not knowing prime numbers. It was unlikely to get back to anyone else that didn't already have access to his personnel file. Besides, he'd seen his file, and Anna and Eliška both accounted for one line in hundreds. It was like those nine years of his life hadn't happened. So easy to skip over.
"My daughter. I haven't seen her in… well, years." No matter how many. He looked at Ford critically. "If you were to receive a letter from your father whom you hadn't heard from in years… what would you expect him to say?"
Ford looked a bit taken aback by the question. It wasn't a fair question to ask of such a likeable guy as Ford. Radek had only ever observed him laughing, talking, at ease with everyone around him. He even seemed to tolerate McKay, more or less. But his father was apparently absent, too. Maybe he was dead. Did Ford ever forgive him?
It didn't matter what Ford would do, and Radek wasn't sure what Anna would do.
Even though he rarely sent letters before coming to Atlantis, he'd written what seemed like hundreds since. Hundreds that would never be sent because of security clearance. Hundreds, and every one might have been the last thing he'd ever say to her. Still wasn't sure what to say.
Ford shrugged. "I'm sure she'll be happy to hear anything from you."
"You're right." But, judging by his mannerism, he was probably lying. Radek sighed. "Sorry. Stupid question. Okay, I'm ready now."
Ford smiled and nodded, hitting a few buttons on his camcorder. He gave him the thumbs-up.
Radek smiled at the camera and tried to imagine it was Anna. Tried to imagine what she would even look like now. It had been so long… "Ahoj, Anna." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry it's been so long since my last letter. Maybe a video will make up for it?"
Yeah, right. Nice try, though. He hadn't send her any gifts or even one word on her birthday this year. Better explain that.
"I'm so far from civilization sometimes I forget what it looks like. Mail doesn't come here often. I live in a very remote area with other scientists, some of the smartest people on Earth. It's intimidating, but I've learned so much. My work is very exciting. I wish I could tell you all about it, but… you know, there are data limitations." He tried to smile like it was a joke. Like he wasn't looking down the long, pale arm of a Wraith right now.
Why, every time he thought about dying, he could only think of her and how he hadn't seen her in ages? He was in a ten-thousand year old city in another galaxy, part of the most important secret on Earth. Yet he'd missed the most important thing. He wanted her to know what they'd tried to do here, but she might never know.
He shrugged. "I wouldn't want to bore you…"
Maybe it wouldn't bore her.
How was he supposed to know? She might be interested to know what he did. What kid wouldn't want to know their father was off in another galaxy, building spaceships? He hoped Anna was the kind of girl that would be very interested, but… he also hoped she'd be the kind of girl that would have preferred he be in the same galaxy. On the same planet. Maybe she'd prefer to see him sometime.
He didn't know anything about her.
And he didn't deserve to. He didn't send many letters or gifts. He'd missed her name day four times, and that was just when they were apart. He swore he'd never do that. "I wish I could see you… You're fifteen now, yeah? Fifteen…" Wow, that was surreal. How did he ever miss so much? How could he ever think anything else was more important. "I'll bet you're beautiful and smart, just like your mother."
He took a deep breath and shook his head. Better to be honest, if this was the last thing she'd ever have from him. "I wonder about you every day, you know. I think about where you might be going to school and what you're learning. I wonder if you're still playing the violin, and if you hate it as much as you used to. I know you're getting good grades in school, because I know you must be smart. Just like your mother. I wish… I wish I could see you."
Wishful thinking for the past eight years, off and on. It was right that he hadn't seen her. Maybe Anna didn't care. Maybe she didn't really even remember him. Maybe that would be better for her in the long run.
"Maybe when I come home I can see you. Maybe we can have lunch or something." He found himself slouching in his chair, when he'd started out so sure. "I miss you. I love you…" He didn't know who he was talking to anymore. Maybe he never did. But he never wished more than now he could still be with them. Maybe just to see them one last time.
He looked directly at the camera and tried his best to imagine what a fifteen-year-old Anna looked like now. If she'd look any different. If she'd look pretty much the same.
"Drž se, miláčku."
#
September, 2005
Anna sat down next to the window and looked out. She always thought Prague's airport looked a little bit like a prison. She was going to miss it. The green hills blocked the view to the rest of the city, but she'd see it soon enough when the plane took off. From Prague, to London, to Washington D.C., to Denver. It was shaping up to be a long flight. A very long night.
Even without layovers, it was a twelve-and-a-half hour flight.
She could handle it.
Except the next time she looked up, they were already in the air with the city beneath. She didn't know when she'd see it again, and soon she wouldn't be able to see it at all.
She blinked at her tears in case the young lady next to her looked at her. Anna heard her speaking English earlier. She sounded British and she didn't look like the kind to be at all concerned about the sobbing little girl sitting next to her.
She waited until the stewardess came by to give her a package of peanuts and she pulled out her disk with the message from Radek on it. She pulled down the little table stuck in the back of the chair in front of her and put the disk on it. And stared.
She might have been able to do this the whole flight, but the woman sitting next to her noticed her tears.
"Oh, dear," she said in English. It was different from the American tapes she'd been listening to, and she wasn't sure how. English was hard to understand, anyway. "Are you alright?"
Anna nodded, pushing away her tears with her knuckles. "Yes. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about flying." The woman turned to her, patting the armrest between them. "I've done this a hundred times, and there's no reason to be scared."
"I'm not…" Anna whispered. She tried not to choke on her own breath. "I'm sorry. English. I—"
"Oh, that's fine, I know some Czech." She smiled a little helpfully.
Anna glanced at her uncertainly. Her Czech sounded better than Anna's.
"My company does business in Prague all the time. I practically live there these days…" She sighed and shrugged. "It's a nice city, but it's not Manchester."
Anna nodded. "I have to learn English because my dad lives in the USA. I'm going there now." She took a deep, steadying breath. Her tears dried up, and just in time. "I haven't seen him in eight years."
The woman nodded knowingly. "Oh, I see…"
"I'm just nervous and…" That wasn't a reason to cry, though. She didn't know why it was so important to her to not look like a crybaby to this woman she didn't even know. "I have to live with him now because… because, um, my mom died." Anna looked down and added, "I don't usually cry." She turned the disk on the desk and pulled her book out of her messenger bag. A brand new book from her aunt for her trip.
The woman looked a little shocked, probably regretting having picked this seat. At least it wasn't even a three-hour flight to London. She could soon be saved from sitting beside this blubbering child on the plane from Prague. "I suppose I'd cry, too," she said quietly. "That sounds like one hell of an adjustment. I'm sorry."
Anna smiled a little. "I've only been outside of the Czech Republic once, to Berlin, with… um, my mom. I've never even met an American. And now I'm going to live with them."
"Your Dad isn't American?" she asked.
Anna shook her head. "He's Czech, also." It had been a long time since she'd seen him, but not so long he could have become American completely… if that was even possible.
She nodded, and made herself comfortable in her chair. She glanced at Anna and smiled apologetically. "But you haven't seen him in years. Are you excited to see him? You must have been really little when you last saw him."
More like terrified. She decided not to answer that question directly. "I don't really remember him. I only remember that I thought he was the most wonderful dad ever, and now I only remember that my mom hated him." In other words, she had no idea what to think or feel. She sighed and leaned back on the headrest. "But I guess I have another fifteen hours to figure it out."
"Good lord." She frowned. "I guess, for you, this really is a red-eye flight… tired and crying."
Anna couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry about that. She ended up doing a little of both, despite her attempts not to.
"Hey," the woman said. "You want to practice your English? I'm pretty good at it." She smiled like it was supposed to be a joke.
It was funny enough for Anna. She nodded. "Um… I know colors." She smiled sheepishly.
"That's fine. Why don't you tell me about where your dad lives?" she suggested. "Do you know where he lives?"
Anna nodded. "In the USA…" What was that place called again? Anna looked up pictures of it last week, to know where she was going. It was pretty, with big violet mountains and sky blue as a bellflower. "Um, Colorado. He sends letters." She took a deep breath and sniffed. "The weather is nice."
Czech Things
* I know what "security clearance" is. (Thanks, Google)
Uh, there are other Czech words in this chapter (not as many as you might expect?).
motýlí = butterfly / ahoj = hi / drž se = take care/hold on
Also, do you even know how impossible it is to find out if German telephones had a dial tone in the nineties? I still don't know. Also, I'm not sure if the "red-eye" joke works anywhere but American English, but I was like… It's almost the end. Just go with it. I'm sure its fine. Sure, I regret it now, but, after the battle, everyone's a general.
A/N: I'm not a fan of flashbacks, but you could never tell with this monster of a chapter. I was working on what happened to get Radek to this point (much thanks to linda-ljc for largely inspiring this inquiry. Basically forever ago now. I know it was quite a wait, but I hope it was worth it). I got carried away, so I crammed them all in one chapter. It doesn't cover a lot of things, obviously, but I didn't want it to get… longer. It's difficult to show the deterioration of an otherwise-working relationship. It never seems like big things when you're in the middle of it, but, by the end, every little thing is big. So this is basically just the important parts. You know, data limitations…
I will answer the reviews next chapter, which I will post in minutes.
Next time: Working on it…
