together, and they would fill Magda’s ears with reasons to love me, or at least reasons to stay with me. “Could you afford it?”
“It’s almost time for my pension, Ferenc. Not much, it never is. But maybe it’s enough.”
“Won’t you miss it out here? It’s a different life in the Capital.”
“Of course it is,” he said, and came to sit beside me. He found the bottle and refilled us both. “A lot of our friends have moved away, and now when we go to the cooperative’s social club we know fewer and fewer people. They’re all leaving,” he said. “That, or dying off.”
56
Magda and I slept in the guest room. It was a large bed, and we didn’t touch, didn’t say anything. I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling, just visible in the light from the porch. She rolled on her side, away from me. After a while, I heard her heavy breaths, but it wasn’t the sound of sleep. I touched her bare shoulder. “What is it?”
She shook her head and didn’t look at me. “I was just thinking of Stefan.”
I withdrew my hand. “It must be hard on you.”
“Not so much. I was thinking about how his life was. He must have been so lonely.”
“He had you.”
She quieted, then rolled over so she faced me. I couldn’t quite see her face. “What does that mean?”
“Come on, Magda. There’s no more need.”
“No. What are you talking about?”
I took a breath. We were finally having this conversation, but in a bed that didn’t belong to us. “You were having an affair with Stefan. I’ve known it for a long time.”
She didn’t say anything at first. I heard a couple sighs, as if she was going to speak, but nothing would come. Then she said, “You’re such a fool sometimes, Ferenc.”
“Maybe I am.”
“I slept with him once, many years ago, and I’ve never stopped regretting it.”
“And now?”
“What now? I never touched him again.”
I took this in gradually. “But I saw you go to meet him. At that Turkish bar. It’s his favorite.”
“You followed me?”
“When you believe your wife’s having an affair, you’re allowed some improprieties.”
“I can’t believe you followed me.”
“Give it a rest, will you?”
She rolled away again, and after a minute sat up on the edge of the bed. She looked at the floor while I waited for something to come. “It’s Leonek,” she said finally.
“It’s-” I started to repeat, then didn’t.
“We’ve been together, on and off, for a month and a half now. I don’t have any excuse. I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but I wanted to know what I really wanted first.” She was still looking at the floor, and her voice was clear and strong. “At the beginning it was just desperation. It looked like everything was over between us, and I wanted something for myself. Can you understand that?”
I said, “Yes, I can,” but I was in a fog.
“And I’ve broken it off with him I-don’t-know-how-many times. Remember that night when you came back from Georgi’s party, and I wasn’t there? Stefan called. He’d been drinking, and he wanted to apologize for telling you about what he and I had done during the war. That’s how I found out you knew. It was such a shock. I immediately went to Leonek and told him it couldn’t go on. I broke it off.” She shook her head. “But you remember how I was when you saw me later that night. You wanted to talk, and I couldn’t. I was confused. The next morning I called him, and we started it all over again. On the Sixth of November.”
I remembered that day, and remembered her inexplicable panic when I asked her who had been listening to the Americans. It had been him-it was the only station he listened to. “So,” I said, “what is it he gives you? What does Leonek give you?”
She finally stopped looking at that goddamn floor. I could just make out some of her features. She looked old. “I’ve told you before, Ferenc. You’re different. You’re not the man I married. Leonek…I always know how he feels about me. With you I’m never sure.” She took a breath. “And he does love me.”
“You love him?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s good to me, but I don’t know if he’s good for me.”
I finally moved. I sat up and leaned against the headboard. But I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you going to leave me?” she asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
She didn’t answer.
“Do you love me anymore?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Not even a ‘maybe’?”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
I brought my hands to my face and breathed into my palms. The shock was starting to fade, but slowly. All my emotions were a shadow of themselves now, though I could pick them out and count them where they floated just out of reach.
I got up and put on my clothes. Magda didn’t say a word as I walked out and found the brandy bottle in the kitchen and took it to the freezing garden. Teodor had left his cigarettes outside, and I began to smoke them, one by one.
57
In the morning I walked to the cooperative office at the top of the hill because Teodor and Nora’s phone only dialed out locally. I showed my Militia certificate and watched the lame man behind the desk stumble for the telephone and pass it to me. Then I called Moska and told him I was going to the Vatrina Work Camp in order to look up information on my suspect. He sighed and accepted this.
Magda and Agnes were in the kitchen with Nora, making breakfast. The smell was heavy with grease. Magda looked at me with an expression that said everything without saying a thing.
After breakfast I threw my bag into the car. She followed me outside.
“You’re going back home?”
“Tonight, or tomorrow. I’ve got to check on some things first.”
She squinted into the breeze.
“What is it?”
She said, “Don’t hurt him.”
“What?”
“Libarid.”
“Who?”
She shook her head. “Leonek, I mean. Libarid’s his birth name.”
“Oh.”
“His mother made him change it when they came here. She even called him Leonek in private. Damn.” She looked at the dirt. “I’m babbling, and that was a secret. But listen.” She looked at me again. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I was looking around and he was just there.”
I took a step away from her. “I can’t promise anything.”
She looked at the ground again and when she looked back, her eyes glimmered. She was crying so much
