‘No?’ Helenka said, pulling a face.
Involuntarily, without realising it, Alina and Helenka had turned to face each other. Their bodies were taut, as if bracing for a fight.
Darya suppressed a sigh. So many problems could be resolved by simply communicating.
Darya grabbed their wrists and pulled them close. ‘That is enough!’ she commanded. ‘Alina was NOT having an affair with Oleg. Helenka, you better believe it and move on.’
‘As if it were even possible,’ Alina muttered under her breath.
‘You did it once.’ Helenka pouted. ‘Back when we were at Uni.’
‘I was young,’ Alina replied. ‘I was experimenting.’
‘You were out with Oleg a few times … and also, Brian.’
‘With both it was just work.’
‘What work?’ Darya butted in, but no one paid her any heed.
‘You know Oleg from before,’ Helenka accused.
‘From two years ago, when he came to Sibiu briefly to finish a dissertation for his masters. Funnily enough,’ her face took on a pensive, faraway look, ‘I met Oleg with Irina at the Stairs Passage and she introduced us. I should’ve sensed something was going on between them right then … but at that moment she told me Oleg’s father and Mihai were friends and that’s how she knew him.’
‘See!’ Helenka interrupted aggressively. ‘That’s the problem. You didn’t tell me. You don’t even talk to me anymore. I know none of this!’
‘Well, it might help to ask me questions instead of making up theories.’
Darya watched their tense exchange, puzzled.
Something was off.
‘You know I could never do that to you. I ...’ Alina pressed her lips together, seeming unable to continue.
Helenka pried her hand away from Darya’s grip and extended it towards Alina, who extended her own.
‘I care too much,’ she said, her voice shaky.
They looked at each other and smiled.
‘What’s going on?’ Darya cut in, unable to bear it any longer.
Could it be … that she’d not guessed what was in front of her all along?
Seeing Darya’s flabbergasted face, the two burst out laughing.
Then Helenka told her.
And Darya kicked herself for not guessing earlier. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she exhaled. ‘I should’ve known. I’m such an idiot!’
‘How could you have known?’ Alina murmured. ‘We don’t announce it to the world.’ Alina and Helenka were standing side-by-side now, their arms touching lightly.
‘What about Brian?’ Darya asked.
‘What about him?’ asked Alina.
‘You were …’ Darya struggled to get the words out because they sounded ridiculous given what she knew now.
‘Yes?’
‘Weren’t you dating him?’ Darya finally said, feeling lame. ‘Or sort of …’
‘What’s sort of?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t.’
Darya could sense that Alina was teasing her.
‘You thought I was having an affair with Brian?’ Alina asked. ‘Of all the people … that poor, lost cherub? Brian and I met at the mini market one time. He’d been looking for ready-to-eat food, but you know Sibiu has none of those. I suggested a few alternatives. We got talking. He said he was looking for someone who knew Sibiu’s history, its people. He was doing a project at the Uni. I gave him Oleg’s number. We met a couple of times after that. Two of those times, Oleg was there too. All very brief. It was casual, friendly.’
‘You introduced him to Mihai.’
‘Oleg suggested it. Mihai is, after all, an important person in Sibiu. He knows more about Sibiu than anyone else.’
‘But …’ What about their cosy togetherness, despite him being new in the city, and … the message on Alina’s phone?
‘I’m that way with everyone I take a liking to. See how close we … you and I … have become. And really, you were the one he was interested in,’ Alina said. ‘We talked of you more than anything else.’
‘You did?’
Alina nodded.
‘But he messaged you,’ Darya said. ‘I saw …’ she stopped, knowing how that was going to sound.
‘I knew you’d seen it,’ Alina said quietly. ‘Here.’ She whipped out her mobile phone. ‘This is what it actually said.’ She tapped a few buttons, found what she was looking for, and shoved the screen in front of Darya’s face. Helenka leaned in to look too.
You’re goddess for what you did. I wud’ve nvr met Oleg else.
Sheepishly, Darya looked at Alina.
‘Oleg was helping Brian,’ she said. ‘They’d forged some sort of friendship. I was a mere messenger.’
‘But you were evasive when I asked you about Oleg,’ Darya said.
Helenka nodded. ‘You were,’ she said. ‘I’ve to agree with Darya there.’
‘Because …’ with a disgusted look on her face, ‘… Oleg behaves like a psychopath and gives me the creeps,’ Alina said. Then, after a split-second’s considered pause, ‘Also … Helenka is not completely wrong … He had, quite recently, dropped very suggestive hints, but …’ she rushed before Helenka could gripe, ‘I shot him down. You know I’ve got to indulge the man simply because he works for the Rosettis.’
‘Do you think he might know something about Brian’s leaving?’ Helenka asked.
This had been playing on Darya’s mind as well, and when she saw the look on Alina’s face, she knew Alina suspected it too.
But when she responded, it was with a dry chuckle. ‘Brian was planning to travel around Romania. He left because he wanted to. Darya, you just have to locate where he is and let Ana know. Brian, that temperamental ass!’ She sighed. ‘And don’t come up with any more theories, please …’ She gave Helenka’s elbow a playful tweak. ‘… No more.’
Darya and Helenka exchanged smiles.
‘But you two,’ Darya said. ‘Why would you keep it a secret? This being a modern world and all. I’m totally cool with it, you know.’
‘That’s why we’re telling you,’ Helenka said.
‘In Romania,’ Alina said, ‘it’s not so cool. Sexual diversion, as some people would think this as, is considered a sin.’
‘Romanians don’t have a very positive attitude towards it,’ Helenka said. It seemed to Darya this was not the first time they’ve had to explain themselves to others. She continued, ‘We were one of the last European countries to decriminalise homosexuality, and you know why that came about? Because Romania wanted to join the European Union. Decriminalisation did little to change society’s views about it. It’s only slightly better now, but really, no one in Romania declares their unusual sexual proclivities in public.’
‘It’s not too dissimilar in India,’ Darya muttered.
‘The communist government used to send people like us to prison. Even after the communists were gone, it was hard. Everyone was suspicious and fearful of the likes of us, encouraged enthusiastically by the Orthodox Church,’ Helenka said. ‘Even pretending to be the opposite gender was considered offensive and abnormal.’
‘You remember the story about Radu?’ Alina asked, addressing Helenka who shrugged. ‘No? One time he dressed as Princess Ileana for “Dress as your Hero” at school and was made such fun of, Andrea took him away, once and for all. Never sent him back again.’
‘You told me it was because Radu didn’t want to go to school anymore. He was being bullied,’ Darya said.
‘It was both,’ Alina clarified. ‘But see, that’s what people are like. For God’s sake, the boy was six.’
‘Our parents have an inkling about us,’ Helenka murmured. ‘But they do not know for sure. Except mamă.’
‘And I’m connected to the Rosettis. No way am I telling anyone.’
The market had closed behind them. Both Alina and Helenka looked exhausted.
‘Fancy a drink?’ Alina asked.
Darya shook her he
ad. ‘Have to make a few calls,’ she gave the first excuse that popped up in her head.
‘Any luck with Brian?’
‘But you think he left because he had other plans,’ Darya remarked.
Alina’s gaze was unflinching. ‘But you don’t,’ she replied. ‘And neither does Ana, apparently.’
‘We’ll find out soon enough, I hope,’ Darya said, biting on her lip to stop the quaver in her voice.
Week 12: Present Day
‘I’m glad to hear it wasn’t Alina,’ Ana-Maria said. ‘In any case, it was she who recommended I use you to find Brian. If she were guilty, she must’ve thought you were incompetent, and I didn’t get that impression.’
‘It’s always the person closest to you that does the worst,’ Darya murmured under her breath.
Ana-Maria appeared not to have heard it.
‘So, after that, I trust you made good use of your time and put your resources to finding Brian. Did you follow Oleg then? You said you thought him odd. He and Irina were involved in something fishy.’
‘Yeah,’ Darya agreed. ‘After that, I focused on finding Brian. No more drama or distractions. Somebody must know where Brian was. Perhaps he had left a clue in his things back at Sibiana? You gave me permission to look. And that’s what I did next.’
Week 8: 1 week after Brian goes missing
Brian is still missing. Darya goes to his hostel to investigate, along with some of the other places he frequented.
The slim red locker Darya was looking at held all of Brian’s possessions. Vera at the reception had given her the key card and told her she could look through the contents, but not to take anything with her because he was gonna come back, no? No worries. Darya asked her if the hostel had CCTV cameras, to which Vera replied with a shrug, ‘This is Sibiu.’ Darya had assumed the answer was ‘no’.
After Sibiu was named the European Capital of Culture in 2007—the first East European city to have bagged the coveted title after the fall of the Berlin Wall—large sums of money had been spent to upgrade the city’s infrastructure. The old city centre had been remodelled; decrepit walls were done over in bright colours; food, music, and beer festivals were held every month, attended by hundreds of locals and tourists. Scores of CCTV cameras had been put up as well—Darya had seen a couple of them around—but the hostel where Brian was staying—Sibiana—a twenty-minute walk from the centre—probably had not make the cut. It was one of the properties the Rosettis had left to neglect.
Brian had been sleeping in a dorm meant for six. Currently, it had only two occupants; both Koreans. They stopped to gape when Darya came in. She nodded at them. ‘Just need five minutes,’ she murmured, pointing to Brian’s locker. It was locker 2, matching the number on the key card.
They nodded back in response and continued to stare. With her dishevelled, curly hair—loosely held together with yellow ribbons today—and flowing purple bodice-skirt, she realised she must have presented quite the spectacle.
‘Did you know Brian?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ one replied. ‘He was sleeping there.’ He pointed to a bed.
‘Do you know where he went?’
‘He didn’t talk to us. Are you from, eh … police?’
‘A friend.’
She’d gotten as much from the hostel staff. Vera had talked to Brian only two times while he was there: once, at the very beginning when he’d wanted to know everything about the Rosettis and the next, when someone was visiting him at the hostel and he asked to be told when that person arrived.
Darya tried again. ‘How did he seem the last time you saw him?’
The two in the dorm glanced at each other and shrugged together. ‘We didn’t know him,’ one said.
Darya fell to her knees and turned her attention back to the locker. The men resumed packing their suitcases; Vera had told her they were going to be leaving soon. From time to time, Darya felt their eyes on her, but she stuck her head in and poised her body so they could not see what she was doing.
Brian sure traveled light. His toiletry kit was the first thing she rummaged through, a blue plastic see-through pouch; nothing special there. Next to it lay a black duffel bag, and tucked underneath, a small beige tote.
She opened the duffel bag. Clothes spilled out. Gray, blue, black, red, yellow. Smelly, greasy, soiled T-shirts, jeans, and shorts. A few socks. A pair of monogrammed slippers. A Lonely Planet edition of Romania (People still used those!), empty plastic bags, three toilet rolls, a towel.
She swept the contents to one side and opened the tote bag next. A torn jacket and a sweatshirt. Another pair of socks, this one new with the tag still on. A water bottle, empty. A pair of glasses and contact lens solution. A sleeping bag. A few crumpled receipts: one from Sibiana, where he seemed to have paid up for the month; three dinner receipts from Harlequin, which he seemed to have frequented and had large meals in; a printed travel schedule for flights to London and Edinburgh; a half-filled postcard addressed to Mihai and Alina, only with their names on it, followed by a smiley face; a ‘Things to do in Sibiu’ pamphlet from the local tourist office.
Sighing, Darya closed the bag and pulled the zipper through. The boys asked to be given room so they could go past her to the door with their sizeable suitcases. She shifted and muttered a distracted goodbye, have a safe trip.
After they left, she picked up the remaining things and stuffed them back in. The Lonely Planet was the last to go, but as soon as she had put it in, a thought struck her, and she took it out again.
She often put things inside books—sometimes as bookmarks, sometimes because she had nowhere else to put them—what if Brian did that too? Maybe inside this guidebook?
Hallelujah!
She was rewarded.
A faded colour photograph emerged. Its top edge was stuck to a page due to moisture and had probably been so for a while. It was a family photo, likely of Brian and his parents. It was old and tarnished, but Darya could make out the happy, sharp features of the tall, resplendent woman in a salmon-coloured blouse and a navy blue pair of knee-length shorts. The man next to her was shorter and slender and wore a white polo neck T-shirt and a pair of fashionable navy-coloured cowboy denims. Both were young, in their early twenties. Brian was in between them: thick glasses, awkwardly leaning, barely reaching his mother’s calves. He looked about five or six years old.
She turned the photo over.
Her heart skipped a beat.
There was a name and a phone number.
Her first real clue.
Valerie Johnson
Department of Pediatrics
403-538-6121
She’d have to call Valerie.
Darya tore the page out and crammed it into her backpack. To hell with the cops. Maybe Valerie knew where Brian was and could direct them to him before they pressed the panic button and assumed something bad had happened.
Yeah, probably … Brian was gonna come back like Vera said and all this was for naught.
Yet …
… why was Ana-Maria so worried? Brian was but a tiny speck in her grand universe, yet she wanted Darya to find him. Or had it been Alina who had persuaded her, because she cared more about Brian than she let on?
As Darya flipped through the remaining pages of the Lonely Planet, she came upon more scribbles. These were barely intelligible—neither did they look important—written as they were in pencil. Darya tore the page out anyhow; glad the dorm room was empty, and no one witnessed her act.
Could it be that Brian had simply changed his mind and returned home to Canada, not bothering to take his clothes and things? None of the things in the locker looked expensive or indispensable … so it was plausible.
When Darya returned to the reception again, she asked Vera about the backpack.
‘No clue,’ she said. ‘What’s there is there. We haven’t touched his things.’
‘He has paid up for the month too, right?’
‘That’s right.’
Hope raised
a tiny head in her heart.
‘Then … maybe he’ll be back.’ She paused. ‘Has someone else been through his things?’ she asked. ‘Or come to visit him?’
Vera looked up from her phone.
‘When?’
‘Recently.’
‘How recent.’
Darya suppressed a sigh. ‘After he … went missing.’
Vera scowled. ‘You don’t know that.’
Darya waited.
‘We value our customers’ privacy,’ Vera said in a clipped, practiced tone. Her eyes dropped to her phone again.
‘Come on, Vera.’
‘You know how it is.’
Darya leaned over the reception desk. Vera looked up.
‘Okay, alright,’ she conceded, pulling a face. ‘I’ll tell you. Just don’t tell anyone it was me.’
Darya went to Harlequin next.
It was 11:30 a.m. and the restaurant was open but empty. Two twig-like women in white shirts and short black skirts stared insolently as a tall, portly man with short cropped hair and wearing a similar black-and-white ensemble with a red tie, barked orders at them.
The staff was the same as when Darya had come with Brian the last time; the taller girl had served them. Darya determined she would need to order something to get her attention and ask the questions she wanted to.
The man left the duo and went inside.
Darya went in.
The girls gave Darya a cold once-over as she settled into one of the corner seats. Ten minutes later, after Darya had waved at the taller girl emphatically a couple of times, she walked to her, menu in one hand, a stiff ponytail hanging behind.
‘Yeah, what will you have?’ she asked, dropping the menu on the table.
Darya thanked her and opened the menu. The girl shifted on her feet.
‘Don’t go anywhere,’ Darya said urgently. ‘I’m ready to order.’ Briefly, she glanced to see if their boss was around. He wasn’t. Then going back to the menu, with her head down, and making it sound like the most casual thing in the world, ‘I came with a boy last time. Young boy. Canadian, long hair, short height,’ Darya said, demonstrating with her hands.
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 60
