Page 41 of Lash

"I met her in Munich when I was in the German counterintelligence unit, the MAD. I lived in a small flat in a not very good part of town, but I liked it because it had a small Romani community, and it made me feel more at home. She moved into the flat across from mine, and I was immediately in love." I laugh. "She did not return my love right away. I was very different then. My hair was short, and I had no beard, and I mostly wore uniforms. I did not look or act like Romani. I spoke German like a native citizen. I….it was on purpose. I had been trying to forget my Romani-ness, I guess. After the violence of the revolution and seeing my parents murdered and everyone else I knew either killed, beaten, or chased away from our homes, I…" I shake my head. "I am embarrassed now, but I was scared. I was afraid to be me. To be proud of my heritage. I did not want to be different, to be persecuted and shamed and bullied for my race. I could not escape it, no matter how hard I tried, and I triedveryhard to seem like just another German. Ileana saw right through it."

Tatiana nuzzles closer. "Of course she did."

I laugh. "Yes, of course she did. She was far braver than I. She was from Hungary, and experienced many of the same things I did. But she did not let them sour her spirit. She did not let them kill her pride in who she was and where she came from. No, she was full of courage and fire and joy. I was not worthy to love her. But I did. And in time she came to love me as well, and helped me find myself."

I glance down at Tatiana, and see a thoughtful expression on her face. "What? I see you thinking very hard. I would know what you think, please."

She sighs. "Maybe it's not for me to say."

"It is."

"I…I am thinking that maybe you have returned to that place. You have not forgotten who you are, I do not think. But it seems like maybe you have let your experiences sour your spirit." She twists to look up at me, dark deep eyes searching and intense. "How could they not? What you went through would kill most men. Yet here you are. I do not fault you, Lash. No one would. But…I wonder what your Ileana would say if you could speak with her.”

I feel, again, as if ten thousand volts have shocked me. My instinct is to run, to lash out, to shut down. Instead, I force myself into total stillness; instead, I force myself to examine my feelings with brutal honesty.

The stillness doesn't last.

I gently dislodge Tatiana and stand up, pace across the upper deck to the front and stand at the railing.

What would my beloved Ileana say if she could give me a message from beyond the grave?

"You are a fool, Nico."That was her pet name for me—Nico."I am gone. I live on in your heart, but you are still alive. You still walk the earth. You still have a heart. A body. A spirit."

I know, my beloved. But without you, what am I? Who am I?

"My Nico. Always my Nico."I can almost feel her leaning against my shoulder the way she loved to do as we sipped coffee in the morning and watched the sunrise."But Nico, my love…You must move on."

I do not know how, my beloved. I am stuck. I am lost.

"Because you cling to my spirit. You wallow in your grief."

My eyes burn.

How can I move on? How can I forget you? How can I allow myself to love another when your spirit walks beside me and haunts my dreams?

"You will not forget me. But Nico, my love, I am dead. I commune with our ancestors. I cannot be jealous. When I was alive, I was jealous of your time and your attention and your love. But now that I am dead, I only wish for your peace."

How can I have peace? The only peace I have ever known in my life was in your embrace.

I hear her sigh—it is a soft breath carried on the winds of the Adriatic."Nico, Nico, Nico. You are not looking for peace. You are looking for forgetting. Some men look for forgetting in the bottom of a bottle, but you look for it in self-denial. You deny your brothers the closeness with you which you know they seek. You isolate. You erect walls. You live a sere and spartan life to punish yourself for our deaths."

The wind—her breath—snatches away the salt drops leaking from my eyes.

It is my fault.

"You know it is not. The fault of our deaths lies at the feet of one man, and he is not you."

I have not avenged you.

"Do you think I wish to be avenged? Did I seek vengeance against the men who murdered my father and raped my mother and me? No, I did not, Nico. Men like Roberto Pugli will always exist in the world. They always have. Killing him will not bring you peace, my love. It will not satisfy the anger that burns inside you. Would his death be justice? Yes, of course. But what is that, to you? His death will not fill the hole in your heart that my death created."

What can, my beloved? Nothing.

"No, nothing. It is true. No justice, no vengeance can fill the hole. No object, no place."The wind ruffles my hair and beard, and for a moment I can imagine it is her fingers, her lips."But no THING is not the same as no ONE.”

I duck my head and squeeze my eyes shut.

Do not say it, Ileana. I would not betray you that way.