The Story That Cannot Be Told

by J. Kasper Kramer

  “It could.”

  I thought a moment, my voice growing stronger. “My teacher told us that in America, it’s not safe like here. She said Americans will jump on you and steal your things just for walking down the street.”

  “Is that so?”

  “The movie. It was from America, right? The people there don’t think like we do.”

  “That’s what they say.”

  We turned a corner, and our apartment complex was in sight now, just up ahead.

  “You didn’t tell Mama because she wouldn’t want us to go. Because it’s too dangerous.” This time he only nodded, and I squeezed his hand. “I swear I won’t tell. Not anyone.” And then, after a moment, I added, “Do you think, though, when he lets you know the next showing, that you might bring me again?”

  “We’ll just have to see,” he replied.

  No more than a week later, we took another walk to the palace. We had to finish dinner as if everything was normal, so my mother wouldn’t get too suspicious. Out of anxiety I ate all my stuffed peppers.

  At the door, Mama raised her brow. “Are these walks to escape me?”

  “Just father-daughter bonding,” my father replied, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “Is this becoming a habit?”

  “I sure hope so!” I said, grabbing my jacket and running down the hall.

  On the way, Tata scolded me for my eagerness.

  “You’ll give us up!” he said. “And then I won’t be able to go see them either.”

  “You’ve been watching movies for a while now,” I accused him. “You’ve been saying you’re working late when you aren’t.”

  “Ileana,” he replied, “if you get any more cunning, you’ll ruin us all.”

  At first, I couldn’t figure out why he’d take such a risk. Maybe it was the stress of worrying about so many loved ones for so long. Maybe it was just as he’d lied—a desire to be closer to me. But eventually I realized that, after a lifetime of caution, of keeping his head down, my father longed for rebellion—just like his brother, just like my mother—and he’d chosen to share his adventures with me. Our secret screenings became prefaced with special phrases and gestures. He’d arrive home from work and catch my eye, tapping his watch, and I’d know. We’d eat our dinner in a rush, my stomach fluttering till every part of me tingled, and he’d bring up the topic so casually.

  “I was thinking of a walk, Ileana. Want to join?”

  One night we saw a movie about some guys fighting ghosts in New York. But it wasn’t the ghosts that haunted my dreams. It was the skyscrapers. Were they really that tall? How did they keep on so many lights? Did all American women really dress in those clothes? Did people really drive in those cars?

  Action films, dramas, comedies. The same woman’s voice every time. She went with me to places I’d never dreamed I might go. Martial-arts tournaments. An empty, snowbound hotel. Spaceships full of frightening aliens. In that tiny living room I blushed through love scenes I was too young to be seeing, hid my eyes from guts and gore. I gaped at refrigerators packed with food, grocery stores without a single empty shelf. People bought milk in huge plastic jugs. They ate two tiny bites of a chocolate bar and threw the rest away.

  My father knew the risks we took, but he believed it was worth it to show me the world outside our gray concrete city. He believed it was worth it to show me what could have been, what might yet be.

  Then, one night, we were rushing down the hallway to the student’s apartment, late as always. There was only one more corner to turn.

  But at the sound of a scream, we both stopped.

  My father didn’t seem to know what to do. I clung to his arm, barely breathing. Someone else yelled. Something thudded into a wall.

  “Line up!” a man shouted as a door was thrown open out of sight, the noise growing louder. “Identification! All of you!”

  There was a resounding crash. The television must have been knocked to the floor. The cords of the VCR must have ripped right out of their sockets.

  “Why are you doing this?” The student’s voice now. “It’s just films! Only films!”

  “Where do you get them? Who do you know?”

  I realized in that moment that no one was safe. Not even the spies.

  Handcuffs clinked closed over wrists. More Securitate were spitting commands. A woman was crying. Finally, my father was in motion, pulling me back the way we’d come. Too late. Too slow. We’d only made it four doors down when a man in a uniform came around the corner, scribbling into a notebook.

  “Stop. Where are you going?” he called.

  My father halted, looking petrified. He glanced down at me with only his eyes, then turned around, sliding his keys from his pocket before the officer could see.

  “Good evening. Just on our way home. Heard the commotion. Something happened?”

  “Nothing serious,” replied the officer, a mustache hiding his upper lip. The skin around his eyes was so tight, I could believe that he’d never once laughed.

  “I hope it all gets sorted out,” my father said.

  The officer’s eyes were on the keys in Tata’s hand, then the door we stood beside.

  “You never know what sort of people are trading in contraband these days,” the man said. “Students. Neighbors. Even parents.” He gestured to the door. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  My father nodded, forcing a smile. Anyone could have seen through it. He lifted his keys to the door and tried the first one on the ring. It was so much larger than the keyhole, it wouldn’t even slide in. He laughed as if to himself, hand shaking.

  “It’s been a long day,” he said.

  I stared at the handle, terrified it would turn, that the real occupant would come out. My heart raced as I realized my father would be caught in his lie.

  “Tata!” I cried out, patting my stomach, my arms, turning in a circle and looking frantically all over the floor. “Tata! My doll! I’ve forgotten her! She’s still at the park.” I tugged, pulling him away from the apartment door. “We have to go! Someone will take her!”

  My father let me drag him. “Are you sure you brought her with you? Ileana, don’t pull!”

  He looked back at the officer as we made for the rusted stairwell.

  “Excuse us,” Tata called apologetically. “Have a good night, sir!”

  And then we were free. I tried to leap down the steps three at a time, but my father caught me by the sleeve and made me slow down. I kept peeking over my shoulder till he put a hand on the back of my head and I realized at once how suspicious I looked.

  When we reached the boulevard, I said with a grin, “Wasn’t I clever? A doll. Ha!”

  But my father didn’t answer right away. And when he did, he sounded upset. “That was dangerous, not clever.”

  I frowned. I squeezed his hand.

  “But he believed my story. He believed me ’cause I’m a little girl.”

  My father’s eyes were still pointed forward. The light of the palace gleamed ghostly on his skin, making him appear gaunt and lifeless.

  “You won’t always be,” he said. “You can’t always count on stories to save you.”

  I searched his face, confused. The adrenaline seeped out of me till I felt empty and hopeless. We would never see another movie. He would never take another risk again in his life. I knew it right in that moment, more certain than I’d ever been about anything.

  “He didn’t believe you, Ileana,” said my father. His voice was so weak, so frightened, that I cringed and recoiled. “He just let us go.”

  Traitor

  My father stood just inside Sanda’s doorway, his hair covered in snow. His long nose was red, his lips tinting blue. When he saw me, his eyes lit up and he wrapped me at once in his arms. He smelled the same, felt the same, but I wasn’t entirely sure he was real. I stood there, hands by my sides, staring.

  “I’ve just walked several kilometers,” he said, out of breath. “Is anyone else here? I waited till I saw peo
ple leaving, but I couldn’t be sure.”

  I shook my head, and he glanced outside, then closed the door behind him.

  “I don’t have long to talk,” he said. “They’re probably looking for me already.”

  “Where’s Mama?” I asked, frightened.

  “She’s safe. The Securitate have had us with them in another village for a couple of months now. When this is all over, they promised to bring you down.”

  I gaped, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “The Securitate know where I am?”

  My father’s mouth opened, but he hesitated before nodding. “Right after you left, they came to the apartment, asking about your uncle and what your mother did. We wouldn’t talk.…” He hesitated again, looking distressed. “But they showed us photos. Photos of you on the train.”

  I felt as if my head had filled up with air, as if I were going to float away any moment.

  “We wanted to come get you, but they wouldn’t let us,” he continued, his voice anguished. “We couldn’t even call. Andrei had escaped from a nearby prison and they thought… they thought he might come to the village if he found out you were here. So we cooperated. We came with them to the mountains.”

  I could hardly believe what my father was saying. His haggard face went out of focus as I braced myself against a small table by the door.

  The whole pretense of my stay had been false.

  The Securitate had known who I was all along. They didn’t care about the stories I’d told. They didn’t care about the Great Tome. My father had burned it for no reason.

  The only person I’d ever been a real danger to was the one I most wanted to protect.

  “Was he here, Ileana? Did you see him?” my father asked, and there was hope somewhere in his voice. “He had something they’re looking for. If they get it, they might leave our family alone.”

  I wondered what threats had been made. I wondered how many. Concerning me, surely, no question in that. Nothing else could have made him sound so afraid. But as much as I knew my father had suffered—as much as I loved him, even after what he had done—I couldn’t stop myself from putting the pieces together. Even with so many gaps in the story, I already had a feeling about how it would end.

  Tata put his hand on my cheek and my body went stiff. I didn’t have far to look up to stare straight into his eyes. I’d grown taller since I’d been gone.

  “You know, don’t you?” I asked, quiet. “You know they’ve caught him?”

  Tata’s lips parted, and then, finally, he said, “Yes.”

  I started to breathe faster, shaking my head. “You said you cooperated with the police. What does that mean? How did they know where to find Uncle Andrei?”

  “Ileana…,” my father said slowly, apologetically, and my eyes widened as I heard everything hidden beneath my name. When he reached out for me, I jerked away.

  “You told them!” I shouted.

  “I didn’t tell anyone anything! I answered a phone call. That was it.”

  “You’re a traitor! You’re a coward and a traitor!”

  “Ileana!” my father snapped. “Calm down right this instant!”

  “He’s family. He’s your family!” Now I was crying and gasping.

  “So are you. So is your mother.” My father reached for me again, and I wrenched away so hard that I stumbled into the wall. “You’re just a child! You don’t know what they can do!”

  “I do too! I do know,” I spat. “They’ll make him eat rotted meat and pee on the floor where he sleeps. They’ll break all the bones in his hands.”

  My father’s mouth fell open, and for a moment he just stared.

  “You saw him,” he finally said.

  I swallowed. I took a shaking breath. “If you loved me at all, you’d go save him.”

  Tata stared as if he hadn’t heard right, and then he started laughing, incredulous. “I don’t even know where he is!”

  “The Securitate are holding him prisoner at the top of the mountain. He was hiding in an old monastery where the resisters stayed with the monks. That’s why he came to the village. He’s been gathering people to fight so we don’t have to live like this anymore. He was trying to save us! But the Securitate found him and it’s all your fault!”

  My father’s expression turned angry.

  “No more of this, Ileana. No more stories. It’s over. This isn’t a fairy tale! Do you want me to die? Because if I go climbing that mountain alone, they’ll put a bullet right in my head!”

  “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

  The words spat out before I could catch them, and both of us stood there surprised in the wake. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and Tata crossed his arms, looking away. There was a long spell of silence between us before he said, “The manifesto, Ileana. Do you know where it is?”

  I looked up, and the blood drained from my face.

  “You do, then,” he said. Suddenly there was desperation in his voice. “Did he say something to you? Did he show you?”

  My heart started to thrum.

  “Whatever you know, you have to tell me right now. Every day they ask me. Every day. It’s the only thing keeping him alive. If we bring them the papers—if I find them first—maybe… maybe they’ll let him go back to the prison. Maybe they’ll let him live.”

  It had always been so hard to tell what my father really believed. And I didn’t know which risk was the right one to take. I didn’t know which betrayal was worse. But when I recalled my name signed to the manifesto, my jaw set. The space between us blurred as my eyes filled up again, narrowing.

  “I’ll never forgive you for burning my tome. I’ll never forgive you for helping the Securitate.”

  I opened the door, waiting for him to leave, my heart breaking all over again. It hurt so much, I couldn’t breathe. This time he hadn’t just betrayed me. He’d betrayed everyone I cared for—everything I believed in.

  I wasn’t even sure the father I loved was inside him anymore.

  Tata stood there gaping, but from the way his eyes glazed over, I might as well have been a ghost. When he turned and walked outside, I shut the door behind him and bolted it. I pressed my back to the wood, breathing deep. Seconds passed. Minutes. Panic swelled up. Heartache. Regret. But I didn’t open the door to see if he’d left. I didn’t call out for him in the snow.

  Alone in the house, I just sank to the floor.

  Cunning Ileana and the Golden Apples

  Winter in the mountains was brutal. Snow whipped down from the glaciers and piled up taller than giants. Wind beat at the castle walls with such force that already two of its three frozen towers had fallen. Ileana and her knight friend rallied every able servant and guard to brace the stone foundations and keep the great fires burning, but they worried that their efforts were in vain. The monarch had decided, without doubt, that it was the emperor who’d said all those humiliating things about his teeth, and he’d turned on the princesses’ father in the middle of battle.

  The fight was hardly fair. Somehow the vile ruler had learned a whole bunch of the emperor’s secrets, like where his soldiers’ armor was weakest and what time he let everyone go on break for a snack. On the battlefield the monarch decimated the emperor’s troops.

  Whispers were spreading that the other kingdoms had about had enough, though. They were fed up with the monarch being such a jerk all the time. It was said that armies were amassing to help the emperor fight back.

  But if help was on the way, it was nowhere in sight.

  The soldiers stationed at the mountain castle had orders to imprison the emperor’s daughters. They were scaling the ramparts and ramming the doors. Since everyone else was busy with the blizzard, Ileana and the knight had to fight off all the monarch’s soldiers themselves. More than once, the youngest princess—still unable to speak—went to her two elder sisters for help, but each time the girls would ignore her and pretend they knew how to do needlepoint.

  During the height of a particularly merc
iless onslaught full of lightning magic and poison arrows and utter chaos, Ileana heard screams in the throne room. Fearing that the monarch’s soldiers had finally breached the castle’s defenses, she got the knight’s attention and together they ran full speed through the halls. When they made it into the throne room, Ileana found her two sisters collapsed on their father’s chair, faces painted pale and armpits rubbed with onions, making a scene by hacking and coughing up loogies.

  Now, that’s just gross, said the knight, pulling down the face shield on her helmet.

  Sweet, sweet, Ileana! the two princesses called. You have to help us! We’re dying!

  You know what? Ileana said with sign language—she’d become quite the expert. I don’t care.

  The two elder princesses weren’t clever enough to learn sign language, though, so they just thought their sister was making shadow puppets with her hands.

  Is it supposed to be a goat? Slow down! said the middle princess.

  We don’t have time for this! cried the eldest. Do you see the state of my hair? We each have to eat a golden apple from the monarch’s palace garden by morning or we’re done for!

  Ileana threw her hands up, turning to leave, but the knight caught her by the shoulder.

  Look, said her friend, of course it’s a trick, but a bite from a golden apple is supposed to heal anything. What if it can give you back your voice?

  Ileana’s eyes widened at the thought, but then a massive fireball exploded through the nearest wall and soldiers came pouring in. The knight raised a mace in one hand and a crossbow in the other, not looking the slightest bit concerned.

  I’ve got this, she said. You go.

  Ileana pursed her lips and turned to the two elder princesses, who were cowering in the corner.

  My dear sisters, signed Ileana, I would travel the world for your sake. How much more willingly will I go to your princes.

  Down the mountains and to the west she rode her steed fast as a storm, a basket of provisions beside her. Cunning Ileana reached the monarch’s palace by nightfall and tiptoed through the garden. Under the tree with the shining golden apples, the youngest prince had buried knives and spears and other sharp things and disguised them with flower beds. The princess spotted the danger at once. She also spotted the youngest prince behind some decorative shrubbery, hoping to watch her gruesome death. Ileana leaped over the trap and pulled herself up into the tree.