“Don’t come to Moscow, Laz. They’re sending us to Kisbor.”
“Kisbor? Why would they send you there?”
“Because our relatives live there. Because we can’t go back to Pripyat.”
“I’m your relative. Why can’t you come here?”
There was static on the line, followed by silence.
“Nina?”
“I’m still here, Laz. I wanted to come to Kiev, but they insisted we can’t because of refugees already there. They said for the children it’s best to go farther away. In Kisbor the girls will be with people they know. Bela and Mariska and their baby…”
Nina sobbed for a moment before continuing. “I’m sorry. I need to tell you something. The KGB questioned me about Mihaly’s work at Chernobyl. They’re trying to implicate Mihaly, and I know they’re wrong. But there’s a woman… a technician named Juli Popovics. Mihaly
… was involved with her.”
“Nina…”
“Don’t talk. I know Mihaly told you about her. I knew months ago. Mihaly promised they would stop seeing one another. I was so angry. I remember thinking at the time I wanted to make them suffer. Mihaly slept on the floor, and I slept in bed, alone with my anger. And now… now I’m simply alone. When I heard about the explosion, when my neighbor said she was driving to the plant, I took the girls, thinking it would help. I thought we could get Mihaly. He’d come out and we’d all go away together, and this other thing, this relationship with Juli Popovics, would be finished. He’d see us there, his family come to get him…”
When Nina finished weeping, Lazlo knew he would have to question her. But what could he say? Speaking of Juli and her pregnancy was out of the question. He also needed to avoid mentioning Cousin Andrew Zukor because of the possibility the phone was bugged.
“Nina, it’s not the right time, I know, but I must ask several questions. I have reason to believe the authorities might try to blame Mihaly for the accident.”
“But…”
“Listen. I’ve talked to the Ministry of Energy and… I’ve talked to Juli Popovics.”
“She’s there?”
“She came to Kiev with thousands of others. I think because of her relationship with Mihaly, they may try to use her in some way. Tell me, if you can remember, what kind of questions the KGB asked you.”
Nina told Lazlo about the interview, how the interrogator asked general questions about their family, about life in Pripyat, and finally said he knew of Mihaly’s affair with Juli Popovics. She told about the blatant suggestion that Mihaly was involved in sabotage.
When Nina gave the name of the KGB officer who interviewed her, Lazlo asked her to repeat it.
“Komarov, first initial G. A major. Do you know him?”
“He’s head of the branch office in Kiev.”
“And now he’s here in Moscow… trying to put blame on Mihaly.”
“We can’t know for certain, Nina. Most important now is you and the girls. Did doctors examine you thoroughly?”
“They say Anna and Ilonka weren’t overexposed. They’ve gotten plenty of iodine. But I’ve talked to others. I know it could affect the girls in the future.”
“What about you?”
“It’s the same for me, but worse for children. Radiation is especially dangerous for growing cells. All I can do is pray. We ask God for help, and he gives us this. We’ll go to Easter mass here tomorrow, they’ll fly us to Lvov, and we’ll go to Kisbor. Come visit us there as soon as you can. And, Laz?”
“Yes.”
“Is Juli Popovics safe? Did she make it to Kiev without getting hurt?”
“Yes, she did.”
“Good. I have to go. Others are waiting to use the phone.”
“Kiss the girls for me, Nina.”
“I will.”
Easter dinner with Juli and Aunt Magda reminded Lazlo of boyhood Easters. Sausage, veal loaf, cheese, bread, and hard-boiled eggs, all prepared on Good Friday, put into the Easter basket, and taken to church to be blessed on Holy Saturday. The smell of the food evoked images from boyhood. His parents healthy and strong, his kid brother, Mihaly, running to keep up as they walked uphill from the village of Kisbor with the blessed food.
The Easter meal is served cold on a large platter. After prayer, a single blessed egg is peeled and divided equally among those present as a reminder of who shared the Easter feast. According to tradition, if you experience misfortune during the coming year, you will remember those with whom you shared the egg, and this will give you strength.
Aunt Magda’s Easter tradition was the same. She said decorated eggs dated back to before Christ. According to legend, as long as someone in the world decorated Easter eggs, the world would continue.
While he ate his portion of the blessed egg, Lazlo wondered if Mihaly had a chance to think of tradition before the reactor exploded.
After the shared egg was eaten, Lazlo uncorked the Hungarian wine he brought. He, Juli, and Aunt Magda gave a toast to safety and peace of mind for all Chernobyl victims and refugees. Aunt Magda said because she had no children, she had celebrated Easter alone since her husband died several years earlier. This year she was grateful to have guests. During their toast, Lazlo noticed that, although she held up her glass, Juli had only a sip of wine.
As they ate, the conversation naturally turned to questions about Chernobyl. Radio Moscow’s latest report was two deaths and a hundred or so injured. Lazlo described the roadblocks, the refugees sent to collective farms. Juli said years of illness and an increased probability of cancer could be expected among refugees and emergency workers.
“We may all die of this someday,” she said, putting down her fork and looking out the window. “Not suddenly, but gradually.
Chernobyl children will be frightened of rain and snow. Even those receiving potassium iodide have no guarantees.”
“No iodine for me,” said Aunt Magda. “I’d rather the children have it. Neighbors have asked about Chernobyl because they know Juli worked there. I don’t know what to say. Yesterday while I weeded the garden, Mariya Grinkevich said men are watching the house.”
Juli nodded and turned to Lazlo. “I’ve seen a car on the road with two men inside.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lazlo. “If you see them, it means they want you to know you’re being watched. It’s simply a warning.”
“Do they watch everyone who worked at Chernobyl?” asked Aunt Magda.
“I’m not sure,” said Lazlo.
“I think they would like to,” said Juli. “Mihaly said the KGB was constantly around, waiting for something to happen so they could cover it up.”
After dinner Aunt Magda stayed in the kitchen while Juli and Lazlo went into the living room. Lazlo sat on the sofa, watching as Juli walked to the front window. Her cotton dress hung loosely about her waist. The sun through the window enveloped her. Although Juli’s child did not show, the loose dress reminded him of Nina several summers earlier, pregnant with Ilonka.
“I can’t see the car now,” said Juli. “You said if I can’t see them I should worry.”
“I saw them on my way here,” said Lazlo. “They’re parked up the street near the corner.”
When Juli left the window and sat beside him on the sofa, Lazlo stared at her profile, wondering why she reminded him of Nina.
True, they both had brown hair, both were slender and about the same height. But Nina’s eyes were brown, whereas Juli’s were greenish-gray. She moved slightly closer and turned to face him. The sun from the window shadowing her face brought forth an image from youth. The visage of a fictitious young woman from boyhood dreams. A young woman not only beautiful, but someone to save from danger. The age-old boyhood fantasy, becoming a hero. However, boyhood was long gone, stolen away by the world of guns and reactors and the
