“Two McFlurries and two Cappuccinos please,” I say to the young girl behind the counter, who was looking at us with the most curious face.
Valerie and I are the only people in McDonalds this late morning.
During the second day of Easter, the festivities keep going strong with the same level of excitement.
There's actually one game I consider to be the most fun of religious traditions: the Egg Tapping competition. To play, you select a painted egg and hold it with the pointy end facing up. One person begins by tapping their egg against the pointy end of someone else's. You then turn the egg around, butt up and go again. The aim of the game is to crack the other person's egg without cracking your own.
In Romania, we not only paint millions of eggs red to symbolize the blood of Christ and proudly display them in our houses as some sort of Easter mascot, but we also use them to prove our excellence. And sometimes to cheat and deceive our family, because we’re good Christians.
When I was growing up, my dad made me secret wooden red egg. No one knew but us.
My dad is the kind of guy who would let me make ridiculous trades at Monopoly and as a result, he created a monster. I wouldn't say I was spoiled by him, but I was definitely privileged. The privilege extended to teaching me self-defence when I was 8 and regularly taking me to work with him. I was raised on the real life set of CSI by my very own Mac Taylor. He taught me how to lift fingerprints, develop film, and even showed me bloody crime scene photos. As I got older, I pretty much infiltrated myself in forensics team.
The lab guys would allow me to chill with them and taught me how to examine clothing and pick up fibres, while the field investigators would show me how to take photos and compare fingerprints. The Doc, as everyone called him, introduced me to the polygraph machine. He showed me how works and how I can beat it. Finally, after I turned 16, Dude finally allowed me to spend exactly ten minutes in an autopsy. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me in my teens.
It wasn't only what I saw on the table that was equally scary and cool; it was more the conversations that were happening in the room, between the investigators and the pathologist. It was seeing my dad's brain in action, how others responded to him, his intelligence and respect and how much he truly was Mac fucking Taylor!
The Criminal Investigation Department was my playground, and I made the most of it. So yeah, I was privileged, but in a good way. If that exists. Growing up, I’ve never been intimidated by men or people in positions of power. This was a big thing for a girl, especially in a newly ex-communist country, unofficially ruled by the church.
Looking back, I truly think that my dad spent his entire life making me tough and my mum spent hers trying to stop him.
Before the trip, I didn't think about him much because I was preoccupied with how I would be able to spend ten days under the same roof with my mother without losing my mind.
But now that I am back here, it's actually nice to see him. It really brings back all the cool stuff I’ve learnt from him. He is not a perfect person, but he has spent his life learning and growing. Wish we could go for a beer and just chat. It’s a bit of a bummer Easter is the most intense holiday around here and spending it with the entire family is non-negotiable.
Luckily, if you’re not the one hosting the lunches, the mornings are pretty much free to chill and regroup.
My cousin has asked Daniel to help him with his university application. He has been passionate about motorsport, specifically Formula 1 since birth, and this course means everything to him.
If Leo gets accepted to university in London, not only will he be in the same country as me (yay!), but he could also end up working in F1, which means free tickets! No more watching races at home like a poor person. I want my eardrums to feel the cars squeaking around the bend and my nostrils to taste the smell of burned tire. I also want Paddock access, but that’s a different story.
While Daniel is busy securing our entertainment for the next few decades, Valerie and I have decided to take advantage of our surprise freedom and go for a coffee and a catch up. Since it’s Easter Monday and nothing is open, we ended up in McDonalds. Franchises don’t care about the son of God how he came back from the dead.
“So, how are you?” she asks picking up her first spoonful of ice cream.
“I’m good! My job is a pain but I’ll crack it. I love the actual work just the environment is weird.”
“How’s married life?” she follows up.
“Fine. We have fun.” I say with a smile.
A tiny, very faint feeling of tightness appears in my stomach. I’m not sure why, it’s probably because I feel so guilty towards Daniel, making him spend so much time in a foreign country when he doesn't know the language. He’s always said he doesn’t mind and he always seems to have a good time. I just wished I was better at reading people. Actually, if I wished I was better at something, it would be to master the ability to teach him Romanian. He wants so desperately to have a relationship with my parents, it’s the least I could.
“Nice! What exactly happened with your mum? Did you two talk about it?” Valerie dives right in. No foreplay I guess.
“No, but it’s fine. I shouldn’t be complaining, it’s not as bad as it was after I left. We’re generally ok now, just sometimes she makes me feel like the worst person in the world. And last month was one of those times.” I say laughing.
Valerie gives me one of those looks as to say, drop the act. I look back at her and I feel the angst building back up. I remember my mum’s disheartened face and her mopey voice and I just can’t hold it in anymore.
“I just don’t know how to act with them. With her.” I say, rising my tone a bit and involuntarily rolling my eyes. “I see her name pop up on my phone and my stomach tightens.”
Valerie looks at me with sadness in her eyes.
“She’s not doing it out of malice. She does love you,” she says.
“Her love seems so .. conditional. If I comply, I get way too many compliments and cheesy, over the top shit. It makes me so uncomfortable. But if she decides that I didn’t meet whatever standard she expects, or I didn’t do what she thinks I HAVE to, then everything is null. I get spite and personal attacks. If I try too defend myself, she either stops talking to me or says You’ll feel bad when I’m dead.” I say imitating her voice, which makes me to feel a bit sick. It’s like my body is rejecting every memory I have of her behaviour.
“Sounds very familiar!” She replies laughing. “For me it’s You’re not the sister I wanted.”
There’s a moment of silence. The way we look at each other can only be described by the Same Same But Different Spiderman gif. We point at each other and burst out laughing so loudly the girls behind the counter jump and give us an evil stare.
“Right? Like, I don’t get it.” I say with passion. “She forgets all the good and the only thing that exists is that I didn’t call in time, which means that I don’t care about her, and I never did, and she will just stop talking to me. She demands all this shit but she gives nothing. I used to do everything in my power to make her happy and I shouldn’t have had to. I just don’t think I can take it anymore.” I say. I pause and stare for a second as I realise I do the same thing. It’s all or nothing with me too, even Daniel says I’m like a light switch, on or off, no dimmer light. I feel my stomach tightening again but I shrug it off quickly. I am nothing like her, I tell myself in reassurance.
“Gosh, I don’t know. Have you tried explaining how she makes you feel?” Valerie asks me.
I immediately freeze. No, I haven't. I've been so busy reacting and telling her how wrong she is and how I don't agree with anything she says that I haven't taken a step back to see how I can help the situation.
“It’s ok if you haven’t,” Valerie follows up seeing the guilt in my eyes.
“Yeah, maybe. They’re obsessed with talking. I try to call every week. It’s always me that calls, never them.”
“See? That’s why it was easier for me, when I left! No cellphones, no landline. No way to get in touch. It was so great! They didn’t know if I was alive or dead.” Valerie says laughing.
“Oh yeah, so what’s up with that?” I ask laughing as I start hearing Kenan Thompson singing “ohh weee what’s up with that, what’s up with that.” Now Jason Sudeikis and his gold chain have jumped in and are doing the running man. I hold back a laugh.
“What? When I left?” she asks innocently.
I nod.
“Ran away to Belgium.” she replies taking another sip of her coffee.
“You ran away? Da fuck??? When?” I ask almost chocking on my cappuccino.
“‘89, the day after the Berlin wall fell.”
I stare at her for a few seconds. She stares back with this cheeky grin on her face. She’s always had this mischievous look about her, like she has a secret or is up to something.
Playing poker with her is straight up annoying.
Her words surprise me big time. Nothing dramatic has every happened in our family. I’ve always thought we had the dullest, most boring family in the world. Everyone seems to get along, at least at the surface, no estranged relatives, no real drama.
Today, right now, things change. Oh this is exciting!
I knew she and Frank, my uncle, had lived abroad for a few years, but I never connected the dots.
Now, I want to know everything. I have so many questions. How did they leave? Romania was still communist back then. The regime fell that year, but it wasn't till mid-December that the revolution started and Ceausescu and his wife were arrested and executed. This information has been engrained in my brain ever since I can remember, because Channel 2 always shows the documentary, which includes the execution video of course, on Christmas Day, like some sort of dark festive tradition. It scarred me for life.
My head is quickly doing the math. So she left about a month before everything kicked off. The regime was in full swing. You couldn't just pack up and leave back then. You needed special permits and those were so hard to get.
“Who did you go with?” I ask.
Well that’s the stupidest question, I immediately think. I want to know how the fuck you left the country.
“Your uncle and another couple.” she replies.
“Wait, how old were you?”
“18” she replies laughing.
“Who’s idea was it?”
“Mine.” she laughs.
“Checks out!” I say laughing. “How did you leave the country?”
“We forged the permission slips and used someone who worked at a travel agency to book us an excursion to Poland. We ran away on foot from there.”
My lungs ran out of air.
She bursts out laughing.
This is absolute madness. I don’t even have time to process all the information she is giving me. My brain just fires the next question and the next question. My eyes widen with every answer she gives me and my voice gets more high pitched with every question I ask. I can just tell from the look in her eyes, she is enjoying this way too much.
“What? How often did this happen?” I ask.
“People would try and run, but not the way we did it. This way was least popular because it wasn’t that easy to forge the permission documents. You know your uncle,” she says laughing “He’s always been doing odd jobs and is really good at making connections. We were lucky he knew someone who was an ex committee officer who knew how to forge the permission papers.”
This bit I’m not actually not surprised about. Frank always has a guy. For everything. When I think about him, all I’m picturing is Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, hustling to be a gangster, spinning money and working with shady people.
“Wow! Go Frank! Was there another way to leave?” I ask with wide eyes.
“Yes. By crossing the Danube. There were a few underground networks to smuggle people out of the country or you could just leave by yourself. The routes were usually known. You could swim across the river, well, float downstream, into Yugoslavia. It was safer than going by land, Danube was less guarded, but still, it was very hard to make it. A lot of people drowned trying to cross, the currents are strong. It was tough. Plus, if you get caught they would shoot you first and ask questions later.”
“Oh my god! That is blique! How do you know all this?” I say with absolute shock.
These are the stories you see on the news, more and more right now, but to find out that it actually happened in my own family? This is madness to me.
“That was the plan for us. We were going to go via Yugoslavia, we made all arrangements but then Frank found the tickets. Seemed safer that way.”
“Phew, I say! You are so brave! You all were!”
She starts laughing.
“We were not. We were young and clueless. Absolutely reckless and oblivious to what we were doing, to the real dangers.” she says with a slight gloomy tone.
It took me a while to figure out what her face was doing because I have never seen Valerie look serious. She lost her gaze in the distance only for a second, then followed up.
“It’s funny. A few months after we reached Belgium and were safe, I suddenly remembered all the moments we’ve gone through to get there and realised how close we were to death and how dangerous it has been. Frank came home and found me crouched on the floor unable to move.”
“You had a panic attack?” I ask.
“I think so.” she shrugs.
The energy has shifted a bit. Somehow, it wasn't all fun and games; it got a bit dark.
“I’m hungry. You hungry?” I ask looking behind her at the big menu displays.
“Starving!”
We get up and go order. We were going to get a little snack, but we ended up ordering a selection of burgers, chips and more ice cream.
“Screw it, we’ll walk home and rebuild our appetite before lunch.” Valerie says plotting, as we carry our full trays of delicious fast food and chuckling like a couple of teenagers.
“So how did you end up in Belgium?” I ask as we sit down.
“We booked an excursion to Warsaw and we legged it from there. We didn’t even check in to the hotel. We ditched all our luggage so we can pass as students on a day out, and took the train to a little bordering town between Poland and Germany.”
“How did you cross the border? I ask taking a bite of my Big Mac.
“Swimming.” she said laughing again.
I almost chocked on my Big Mac.
“This is insane!”
“Luckily, we met a few others on the train who knew a bit more about where to go and what to do. We were clueless, no idea where we were going. No plan whatsoever!”
There’s the Valerie I know. I chuckle.
“Eyes closed, head first, can't lose.” I say chuckling, as I hear Jake Peralta’s voice in my head.
“Pretty much! We made friends with three Romanian gypsies. One of them, Lucky, I can’t explain it, but him and I felt like we were brothers from a different life. It felt like we shared a brain, it was weird and amazing at the same time. I’ve never experienced anything like it. We split when we got to Germany, I never knew what happened to him.” she says with watery eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s really sad.” I say with equally sad eyes.
“It’s ok. Lucky and his brothers joined us until we reached Germany. It wasn’t an easy route but they helped us a lot.” she follows. “We walked for miles, we could only really move in the night, otherwise we would risk getting caught.”
“What would have happened if you were?”
“We were traveling illegally through communist parts of Europe. We would be arrested, shot dead or deported.”
“Shit! What would have happened?”
“If we were deported?”
I nod.
“Jail or execution.”
“Sounds about right!” I laugh.
“Yeah! I almost drowned crossing into Germany.” she continues to give me more details. “We didn’t have much money because we were trying to pass as students. If we were going to be stopped and searched and found with a lot of cash, we would rise suspicion. We had with us a few traditional macramés and some food. On the way we would stop in different markets and sell bits so we can buy train tickets. It was fun too! We were so young and stupid, it was almost like a game for us.”
“Yeah, sounds like a hoot!” I reply sarcastically. “How did you end up in Belgium?”
“Well, we heard that the refugee camp in Belgium accepted applications from married couples and we could claim asylum. Otherwise, we would have been separated and we didn’t want that. Once we crossed into Germany we went through Berlin, Munchen and … Oh, I forgot. We got into a small car accident in Munchen and got arrested. That was one of the scariest moments of my life. We got caught on the communist side of Germany!”
“Wait, what??? OK, I need a drink!” I say looking around, forgetting I’m in a McDonalds at 10am. “You have gone through all of this? How the fuck are you functioning right now? Where did you find the courage to do all this?”
Valerie shrugs her shoulders and laughs at me with her signature mischievous smile.
“I just had to! I couldn’t live a life under such strict communist rules. It was terrible. I knew I’d rather die trying to be free than live in a place where I wasn’t allowed to even walk on the grass. Do you understand the level of control and oppression we lived in? Like China or North Korea today!”
“Fuck!”
“We only had 2 hours of electricity and hot water a day, we queued for hours to pick up our food rations. The communications were cut with the West, we weren’t allowed to watch movies, read books, everything was censored. The most ridiculous thing, the one thing that literally pushed me over the edge was that we could be jailed for walking on the grass in the park. Not to mention about all the spies in communities and how people would disappear if they would express any negative thought against the government. That was only 30 years ago.”
I can't even imagine what she’s describing. I left a free Romania because I felt constrained and I didn’t feel free to fully be myself, to express my own weird, non traditional instinct to live my life. And that was in a Romania where I had food, hot water, internet and I was free to go to university. Fuck, I freaked out when Daniel proposed to me and realised that I will commit to one person, one that I loved even. I felt freaked out that I was losing control in something so mundane and normal like a marriage.
I haven’t fully realised until now, but I have lived such a privileged life. My parents, my family they have all gone through some real shit.
“Val, you need to write a book! This is insane! And so inspiring, so relatable!” I say loudly.
She laughs.
“I’m serious. This still happens in the world. Refugee boats come to the UK regularly and dead kids wash against the shores. This shit is real! People flee their countries because of oppressive regimes and wars. They are dehumanised, criminalised by bullshit politicians, making the world to think the refugees are the issue. As if they choose to leave their home with a backpack and go into the unknown. Stories like yours, the details, the complexity, the dangers all this stuff, brings humanity back to the forefront.”
“I know, I saw. Those people have it worse than we did. Also, it doesn’t seem like the UK likes any refugees that are not white.” she says.
“Oh yeah, if they’re white they are refugees, if they are not they are illegal immigrants. It’s a whole thing.”
“It’s always been like this, you know. When we travelled with Lucky and his brothers, and especially when we got detained in Germany, they were ready to shoot them. I mean, they were ready to shoot us too, but they did pay us a bit of attention when we started pleading with them.”
“Well, you can always count on racism to be the constant wherever you are in the world!” I say sarcastically.
“That’s what I’m saying, I didn’t do anything special. I just, took a shot and I was lucky.” she says, looking like she feels a bit moved.
“But that’s the whole point. You didn’t think you did anything special, you just wanted to survive. If you include the whole adventure you can even show from your own point of view and experience how shit is fucked, and nothing has really changed when it comes to prejudice. And your story didn't end tragically.”
“Luckily! Many did.”
“Exactly! And, even going past the refugee side,” I follow “For a woman, it’s so inspiring to see stories where one girl just goes against literally every voice she has around her and follows her intuition, her dreams even if she’s scared shitless. You were one of the few lucky ones to give the whole regime the middle finger along with a big Fuck You. At 18! You know how hard it is to listen to your own voice in an environment that is built to keep you in your place? And even now, so many women live under oppression, some of them don’t even know it. There are so many layers to this story, so many things that people, I relate to. It’s inspiring!”
“If you think so!” she replies.
I can see her getting visibly excited as she also stars to realise the craziness and badassery of the story. She’s still trying to keep it cool, though.
“Plus, if you write a book we can make it into a film! OMG I know exactly who can play you.” I say excitedly.
I pull out my phone and Google a photo of Julia Garner and show it to her. They have same curly blond hair, same face shape and very, very similar smile. Valerie looks at it and laughs.
“I know her!” She says. “Justice for Ruth!” She follows touching her heart and closing her eyes.
“Justice for Ruth!” I say closing my eyes and touching my heart.
It just hit me. This woman is telling me that she ran away on foot at 18, crossed borders illegally, swam across a freezing cold river, during a time when people were shot on the spot if caught illegally. Then she got caught and still managed to escape? How is she still alive?
And if she made it on the other side, why the fuck she got back?
“Why did you come back?” I go back to the story with a brand new set of questions.
“To divorce your uncle.”
I almost choked again.
“What the actual fuck???”
“Damn! Look at the time! We need to go, we’re going to be late for lunch.” She says looking at her watch.
I check my phone and see three missed calls from Daniel and two from Leo.
“Wait, we can't just leave! You have to tell me more.”
We are now getting up and getting our jackets on but I am still talking.
“Did you get divorced? How come you’re still together? Why didn’t you go back?”
Valerie keeps laughing at me.
“We really need to go. We are two hours late. Your mum called me four times.” She says laughing. “I will tell you the rest later.”
“Oh come on, we’re already late. What is she going to do? Not talk to us?” I say.
We both laugh.
“Fine, we can go” I say. “But only if you promise you will write the book. This is some Great
Escape meets Stranger Things shit. It needs to be a movie. ”
“I thought Stranger Things had supernatural monsters in it.” she replies.
“They had their monsters, we have our commies!” I reply laughing.
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