Alternatives

Chapter 3:Burials Part Two

Alina spent her time talking to the kids and telling them wild stories; she taught some of them to read and write in English, and to do simple math. She told their parents it would help them get better jobs later, and they agreed if only to have some peace while the kids were with her. For all her talk of working with children, Erik could see it now for the first time. She was surprisingly strict – the kids were quite well-behaved after some time. Erik was not sure how she did it, because he rarely heard her raise her voice. Some parents told her to hit them if they misbehave, but she dismissed the idea with disgust, and Erik was quite sure she would have spiraled into one of her rants again if she thought they could understand her well enough (she still later told him all of her opinions about physical punishment being inexcusable, even though he never asked her). The children loved her, and they flocked to her whenever they saw her even if she was done for the day. Erik noticed over time that they started talking in English sometimes, and Alina began to learn Russian from them – her knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet came in handy. She felt surprisingly happy.

„Why did you leave? I thought you didn't like your past job." Erik asked one evening, realizing he had become dangerously accustomed to talking to her in the evenings.

„I liked the job. I was just ready for a change of scenery, I suppose", she smiled.

Alina sang to herself whenever she did chores. She wasn't particularly talented – she knew just enough about music for a school teacher – but it was still a pleasant sound. Erik never sang at all. He never even told her he could.

ooo

Alina rented a small box at the post office, so she could send and receive letters. She sent one to auntie Giry every week; it had become a weekly routine to sit down on a Sunday evening to write it and send it every Monday morning.

„It's a small chance that she'll get any of these", Erik informed her.

„I know", she said. „That's why I'm writing so many."

A letter arrived one day, addressed to gđica Alina please. Boričević.

Alina, I will murder you with my own bare hands. Love, Mama.

She found it extremely amusing, roaring with laughter as she showed it to him.

„She even wrote it in English", she managed through laughter. „That way, if it falls in the wrong hands or gets destroyed, someone can still inform me that she plans to kill me." She left to show the letter to Yana next door, and he could hear them laughing loudly outside.

A few days later, another one arrived, much longer and written in that same strange language. As she read it her face sunk, and she got increasingly anxious, tapping her fingers and scratching her forearms. When she was done, she crumpled it up and threw it away.

„What does it say?" the worry in Erik's voice took him by surprise.

„My father is disappointed in me", she replied. „Surprisingly."

„By what, exactly?"

„I'd tell you, but it would take all day. It's hard to keep track at this point."

She spent the rest of the day in a foul mood. Erik decided it might be better to let it go.

ooo

That goddamned man can't let it go, Alina fumed.

She saw in his eyes when he looked at her that he was curious. She pretended not to notice, as she had become an expert in pretending not to notice things about him. He looked at her with curiosity for two entire days. Two. Entire. Days. His eyes followed her while she did chores. It was eating him alive. On the third day, while Alina was making breakfast, he broke and finally asked.

„Why is your father disappointed in you?"

Alina sighed. Of course, he would do it like this, clever bastard. She couldn't walk away from the fire while this oatmeal was cooking.

„Because I'm not what he needs me to be."

„Yes, obviously, I know what disappointed means."

„Why do you even want to know?", she asked looking at the bubbles forming in the pot. He hadn't asked her many personal questions since they left. She was pretty sure the only thing he knew about her was her name and age and whatever vague snippets of information she gave away while she was rambling. Huh. That's troubling. I ramble an enormous amount. I might have already given him my entire personal history without realizing it.

„Because I can't figure it out", he shrugged.

„Just pick one of the obvious things", she frowned at the bubbles in the oatmeal, even though they did nothing to deserve it.

„What obvious things? You are stubborn and brash and loud", ouch, „but that's no reason to be disappointed. Annoyed, maybe. But I can't see a single disappointing thing, and I've known you for close to two months. If anything, I'd pick „pleasantly surprising" to describe you." He closed his mouth awkwardly, realizing he didn't mean to say that last part. „Besides, you've been sulking for two days straight since it arrived."

Alina sighed once again. She was, sadly, very susceptible to sweet-talking. She remembered that blasted green dress she bought because the man who sold it to her said her shoulders looked „enchanting" in it. It was on the bottom of her suitcase even now.

„Has auntie Giry told you anything about me?"

„Just that you lived in London but were from some other country."

„I'm from Croatia."

Of course, he doesn't know where that is, she sighed. „It's a part of the Austrian-Hungarian empire. The south part. Kraljevina Hrvatska I Slavonija. Ever heard of it?" She tried another approach. „Does the name Nikola Šubić Zrinski mean anything to you?"

„I've heard of an opera that sounded something like that - wait, that is your family?"

„No, no, no. I meant the opera, it's Croatian. I just thought you might have heard of it since you mentioned liking opera."

„Who is your family, then?"

„My family is upper middle class with a useless noble title, so like all rich pretend nobles they like to dabble in politics." Oh, well. „Croatia has been going through a kind of renaissance for the past few decades. Our culture has been stifled for centuries by Austria and Hungary. They build schools for our children but demand we don't speak our language or call ourselves a nation. A great many people are angry about it, so there's a movement to bring our culture back. They want me to get involved in that. That's why they sent me off to London; they were hoping I'd get a proper education that wasn't in German or Hungarian, which I speak anyway, and come back as a proper heiress who would, I don't know, write patriotic books and go to tea parties with other intellectuals, and get married properly since they don't have any sons, only me and my sister."

„You have a sister?" he realized he never actually thought that much about the fact she had been alive for years before they met, and probably had an entire world of personal history. Did I simply forget to consider that she was an entire person besides the things that concerned me?

„Her name is Amelija. You'd like her. These hair pins are hers. But back to the point." She tapped the pins absentmindedly, taking another breath because the next part was harder.

„Anyway, I'm the firstborn, so I had to be a lady. Except I'm horrible at being a lady because as you said I'm loud, brash, and stubborn. I ran away all the time when my parents argued, and they used to argue a lot. They're very strict, and I'm very stubborn, so I got my fair share of beatings, manipulations, and threats. My father tried to instill this fear of him into me, hoping I'd fit the image he always had in his head of a smart, independent yet obedient daughter; but I just got more anxious and more defiant at the same time. It all went horribly, and we couldn't have a proper conversation amongst ourselves for years.

So, when I was eighteen they sent me to London and rented an apartment for me. They told me to find good tutors, get educated, and meet other intellectuals. They had some contacts there that I could talk to. So, I found some great teachers, I have to admit. I can't go to university for obvious reasons, but they were willing to give me books, and they discussed them with me as you would with normal students. But my parents wanted me to study philosophy and politics, and that doesn't interest me in the slightest. I know what you're going to say, it's noble because they're after. I agree, and I support them. I'm simply the absolute worst person to get involved in it. Yes, I know how cowardly I am. It's my homeland. I think about it every day.

So I started lying to them. I studied pedagogy at first. Defectology. I stumbled on Freud's texts and became enchanted. All kinds of things. People's behavior. I draw, too, for fun. I love it a lot, even though Amelija is better at it. I can show you sometime. I studied the way people carry themselves and tried to conclude it. All very „young arrogant prodigal son" things, and everything except what my parents wanted me to do. Until, I one day went to a mental hospital to look for one of my tutors, the one who gave me the Freud book.

I realized that the world I'd seen so far was nothing like the world out there and that people were suffering in ways that I, in my sheltered little golden prison, could never have imagined. It humbled me and horrified me. I started volunteering there, then after a while, they gave me some small money for it because I took care of and talked to some patients no one had the patience to deal with anymore. I pulled everyone's sleeves to teach me how to talk to those people and help them. In the end, they got bored by me because I asked too many questions and I argued when I thought they were treating them badly – let me tell you, that was idiotic of me, never try to argue with a doctor of medicine - and I cry too much. Yes, I cried a lot. I wept like a useless heap in the broom closet every time something horrible happened. I stopped being useful, so they let me go, which I think was fair. But at the time I already had some small savings. And I was much more calculated and much less brash and stubborn.

And, to be fair", she swallowed in embarrassment, „I had finally got used to the fact people didn't listen to me all that much when they didn't know my family name or have my father's money.

My parents looked forward to me finally snapping out of this strange phase and coming to my senses. Except I took my savings and rented a new, smaller apartment where they couldn't keep me on a leash made of money. I found work at a local orphanage, and surprisingly, I was neither useless nor obnoxious in that one. I was good at it, but over time it ate me alive. Orphanages are not nice places. I wanted to make some changes, to see that the kids get treated instead of punished because they all looked so worn down and traumatized to me. They didn't listen, but I was good at it, so they didn't fire me either, so in twenty years perhaps I would've got to a position where I can make a difference.

Just when my parents were starting to feel alright with that, I sent them a letter saying I was going to America with you. And now they're furious because they've spent so much energy, time, and money to educate me, and now I'm doing my own will again. My father also has a specific way of putting things to make you feel like nothing. It's an art he's perfected.

So the answer to your question is, simply, I am a disappointment to my father because I'm not what he needs me to be."

The oatmeal is cooked, thank god. Alina needed something to do with her hands; she didn't feel good having told all of that. She grabbed some of it in a small bowl and started eating. He was watching her the whole time.

„Do you think you're a disappointment?" he asked. She couldn't tell what he thought about it all through the damn mask, and his flat tone frankly made her feel judged.

„I don't know", she shrugged. „Depends on who you're asking."

„I'm asking you."

„I honestly don't know. Ask me in ten years."

„Very well", he said, getting up and getting his coat to leave, „I'm not a good moral compass to have, but I can tell you this: you're the only person Antoinette trusted sending with me, and I cannot say what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there. I'm now alive, free, and like I promised you, not harming anybody. Take of that what you will."

ooo

Erik's hair had grown too long, but not long enough to be tied in any reasonable way. It bothered him, getting into his eyes and tangling up in the strings of the mask, bothering him while he worked. For the first time in his life, he became actively thankful for the fact he couldn't grow a beard, because what a nuisance that would be. He had worn his hair long and tied away from his face for years, not caring about it (or so he claimed – the truth he never admitted to anyone was that having long hair tied up was not only easier than cutting it regularly but reminded him of the pictures of old-time musicians he saw in books). He only asked Antoinette to cut it short before they left for New York; but unfortunately, hair grows and after some time he was becoming sure God only even put hair on his disgusting head to torment him with strands in his eyes, ears, and neck. He hated it.

One Sunday, he took some scissors and sat down to either relieve himself of this itchy disaster or cut his head clean off. He took a deep breath, staring at the scissors. This had gone on too long.

„Do you need some help with that?", he heard a voice behind him and nearly jumped out of his seat.

„No." Please go away.

„Do you intend to cut your hair or your ears off your head? Both are equally probable."

„Don't you have anything better to do?" Please, please go away, he rubbed the bare part of his temples with his fingers, increasingly annoyed.

„No, I can't think of anything in the world I'd rather do than watch you attempt cutting your hair without a mirror looking like you're ready for murder. Let me go get some sunflower seeds, alright?" Alina grinned at him happily.

Enough was enough. He turned around, now actually ready for murder.

„Alright, sorry", she held out her hands, no longer smiling, „But I do know how to cut hair. I've done it before. You catch yourself getting assigned odd tasks when you work in odd places."

„I don't want you near my head", he pointed his finger at her.

„As you wish", she shrugged and left the room, pausing in the doorway. „I think it looks good on you either way, so just try not to poke an eye out."

Erik was so annoyed by now that there was reasonable doubt someone might lose an eye if he took those damned scissors in his hands again. Did she say she thinks my hair looks good? He'd never really thought about his hair that much since it was in such proximity to a much more prominent and problematic area of his head. It seemed to him like plain, straight, black hair.

He had half a mind to leave it as it was and suffer when he decided to be reasonable and go looking for her. He found her sitting on her bed, reading Pride and prejudice again.

„I meant it when I said I don't want you near my head", he started.

„Are we still talking about this?" she looked up. „I'm not going to lay a finger on you if you don't want me to. I'm immensely fond of healthy personal boundaries."

„Can you show me how to do it myself?" he said, feeling like he was going to regret it.

To his surprise, she immediately stood up, her tone no longer mocking.

„Of course. Although we will need a mirror, or it will just be... look, just trust me with this, it'll pay off, alright?"

„I'll endure it", he shrugged.

She led him into Yana's house because Yana had a mirror. She explained to her quickly what was going on, and the young woman let them go in her bathroom, looking immensely amused. Erik realized for the first time that their own house didn't have any mirrors, other than the small one Alina kept in her bag for when she needed to braid her hair or fix her hat. She had been looking at windows and doors to check her appearance until now. She had never mentioned anything to him about wanting one, although she must have been used to having it. Erik realized she may have been trying to be kind in some backward sort of way and just assumed a man who wears a mask at all times doesn't want to look into mirrors.

Yana gave him a better pair of scissors and stayed to watch for a while, amused, until she realized it distracted him and left. Alina started explaining how to cut certain strands and thin them out, so it wouldn't look like he just chopped them off with a blunt knife. It took a long time, but she stayed with him through it; waving her hands around she described how to angle the scissors and the hair and work around the ties of the mask until the stupid thing did start to look more presentable.

She never once touched his head.

ooo

Yana's boy was sick. She was so worried and desperate that she wanted to simply scream all the time. To lose her son to the same illness after she did her best to secure him a better life would be far too cruel for her to handle.

It had been a cold winter, and he was too small for his age – he was already three years old, but looked like he was two. It was likely to happen. He turned weak and feverish within a few days; his cough sounded very wrong. Alina sometimes watched over him when Yana was too tired, but even though she'd worked at a hospital, she'd never dealt with physical illness. She didn't know what to do. It was hard for both Erik and Alina to look at Yana; her eyes were constantly red and puffy as she was beside herself with worry. All the neighbors came to visit her, and it made her feel better for a while but the boy's state wasn't improving.

Piotr, normally talkative and full of energy, was now tired and weak; he clung to his mother, and even his crying was quieter and weaker than usual. Yana kept him in his bed, giving her best to feed him, keep him warm and occupy him to get his mind off his illness. Erik came to visit with Alina several times and noticed that their house had some structural weaknesses – it would get too cold in some places, and damp, and it didn't do much to help the boy's recovery, but he didn't know how to bring it up. The damage was already done, and he had failed to prevent it in time.

„We have to do something", Alina said as they came back from Yana's house. „He needs a doctor. It's not flu anymore, it's in his lungs. Even I can hear it."

Erik knew this, he had thought about it and reached the same conclusion; he took a small purse from his bag to give it to Alina. „I know. The girl will never be able to pay for it. Give this to her for me." He lowered it on the table, slightly embarrassed.

Alina stared at him.

„Stop staring at -„

„Are you sure?" she asked softly. „Auntie gave you that money. You might need it."

„I'm sure", he nodded.

„Half of it will be enough", Alina said, digging through her possessions. „I have something of my own to add. We're in this together."

„Are you sure?"

„Yes, neither of us has to lose everything that way." She dug out the money, throwing it on the table along with his.

„He still might not make it", he said, very slowly and carefully. „Small children often don't survive these conditions."

Alina frowned with some ancient fury he hadn't seen before. „I have seen enough children not survive these conditions to know that by now. But this one can survive, and he will survive even if I have to turn the Earth upside down to ensure it."

So it was decided.

Erik decided to go to Yana personally after all. She knew a little English by then, and he hoped she could understand him. He had talked it through with Alina, and she'd managed to convince him it would be better if he delivered the message personally.

„You've been very kind to us. Let us help. I'm scared for your son."

„What can you do?" Yana didn't like owing money, but she was desperate.

God, she's so sad and so young. I can't stand it. „Alina and I have some money, and she will find you a good doctor. I can stay with Piotr, so he's not alone. I'll watch over him until Alina returns. I can also fix your house so it's safer and warmer for him. I've built houses before, I know how."

„I have no money."

„That doesn't matter. We want to do this. I want to do this."

Yana nodded with tears in her eyes. Whatever debt she may find herself owing them could be resolved later. Erik had no intention to take anything from her ever, and would frankly prefer if she never mentioned this again after it was over. He told Alina the news, and she hurried to the nearest town to find a doctor.

She hadn't gone to that part of the island yet, her walks with Erik mostly taking them to desolate places. The town was surprisingly... nice looking, she thought. The island was, for that part, a tourist spot, with attractions, souvenirs, and beaches; normally she would be very curious about it if she wasn't in such a hurry. She was grateful she wore her good dress and hat to do this; she mustered all of her leftover noble-born hubris while she asked around for a doctor with confidence and authority.

Soon enough, she found the doctor's office. The doctor was a pleasant man, with a thick mustache and very well-pressed suit; he looked to her like he genuinely liked people – but he liked himself more, she thought. Gathering herself, she demanded to be taken right away with all the entitlement she saw in her father when her sister was sick as a child. The doctor begrudgingly accepted her, lighting up a little when she waved the money in his face.

„My nephew is sick, and I think it might be pneumonia. It hasn't been long, but he's really small, and it's urgent."