The Troubled World

“If you could bring back one thing from the past- from our old life- what would it be?”

Roman had been staring out the window when she asked. It was raining that night, like most others, a heavy rain that settled thick and sleepy. The air in their little apartment was damp and stifling.

He would’ve opened the window, and even now, his hand fluttered and settled on the grimy sill where the lock had been before it was removed and the window was sealed shut. It was the latest initiative from the Commission for Safety and Well-Being at Home, the sealing of windows.

“Too many accidents,” the builder had shrugged when he arrived at their door last year. “Just keeping everyone safe.”

It had been early winter then and as intrusive as the visit had been, it was not surprising to see yet another contracted tradesmen seeing to the business of the Council. The visit had been brief, and when he left, Roman was determined to make the best of it. No more drafts rushing through the apartment, rattling windows and doors and chasing them beneath their thin government-issued blankets.

But now, in the midst of another dry summer, just being near the window made him short of breath. He clenched and unclenched the hand hanging limply at his side, pictured himself smashing the thing to pieces.

He turned from it. Elaine still waited for his answer, knees pulled up in front of her, balanced as elegantly in that wobbly wooden chair as a songbird on a branch. She reached a hand out from the blanket wrapped around her, picked up a mug of hot tea from the table, her last little pleasure from the past, and held it close before sipping it slowly. Her eyes never left him.

“Well?” she asked.

“The ocean,” he said.

She waited, still and erect. Patient and peaceful. He felt his pounding heart settle into the old and steady rhythm of the past.

“I miss,” he continued, “the colors of the water. The sound. I miss water on my face. Salt in my eyes.” He couldn’t help but glance at the faucet, of no use now, but no less a reminder of the simple freedoms for which he’d never spared a thought before. Now, the reminders were everywhere. The dying flowers outside. The jug of rationed water on the counter, the measured grain beside it, the cupboard doors hiding the emptiness of a prison. His wife’s thin hands and old eyes.

“Me too,” she said. They sat in their own reveries for a few moments. The rain filled the silence, and he didn’t mind, the rain or the silence. It wrapped around them like a warm, shared blanket. “We’ll go, after she’s born.” He regretted the words instantly. He thought of bed, of sleep. He cherished the thought- blissful sleep beside her, sweet dreams of what had been, what was, and would be. Dreams could materialize, couldn’t they, even in hell?

Elaine’s free hand rested on her belly. She set down her tea and reached out to him.

“Come here,” she said.

He went to her, crouched on the floor beside the chair, and laid his head in her lap. She put her hand in his hair.

“How was today?” he asked.

“Better than I thought it would be,” she answered. He could tell she was still trying to decide if her own words were true. She said them so plainly and carefully. “No one seemed to notice I was sick.”

“Everybody’s sick these days,” he said. “So they won’t notice for a while.”

“But when they do,” she said, then stopped. It was the first time any hint of fear had touched her voice that night. He sat up and took her face in his hands.

“We’ll think of something,” he said softly.

“Roman…”

“I’ll take care of you. Both of you.” He kissed her. “Trust me.”

“I know you will, but…” her eyes flickered to the darkening window. “But we’re running out of time. And if they somehow find out- Roman, they’ll take her. They’ll take our baby girl.” She put her hands over her mouth to stifle the sudden sobs that came spilling out.

Roman put his arms around her and held her. Somehow they were both sitting on the floor now. It was cold but he took his time with the reassurance, not the kind with words and empty promises he couldn’t keep, but with his body. He covered her with it now, and she spent her tears into his shirt.

“So,” he said into her hair when she had calmed. “How do you know it’s a girl?” She sat up from where she had settled into his frame.

“How do you know it’s not?” she smiled. They laughed together.

“I have been thinking,” he said, serious again. “Of a plan. A way to get us out of here.”

“They’re not going to reassign us,” she said. “And even if they did, how would that help? We’d just end up in the same situation. And we’d have to be evaluated and…”

“Would you listen to me?” he snapped a little. “I’m not talking about a reassignment. I’m talking about getting out. Leaving. Without telling anyone.”

She stared at him.

“I’ve thought it through,” he went on. “And I know there’s still a few who would look the other way. You know Mark, across the way, the one who likes to stop the inspectors when they check the apartments?”

“You mean when they search our apartment? Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not our apartment anymore. That’s why we don’t get privacy.”

“Stop it. Shut up and listen. Don’t look at me like that- I’m trying to tell you. They’ll be here anytime. Maybe a half hour? We’re ready for them. Picture perfect. All you have to do is sip your tea. When they go to Mark’s, he’ll give us a signal and we’ll slip out. It will be dark then, and we can stick to the alleys and get out to the industrial section…”

“The city will be locked.”

“Not all of it. There’s a water canal, a series of tunnels. We can walk through, easy. I talked with a guy…”

“What guy?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What guy, Roman?”

“You can’t know. It’s better if you don’t know.” He looked away, towards the window.

“So it’s dangerous. What if we get caught? Then what?”

“Won’t be much different than now, will it?” he looked back at her, stared her down. “This is the only way, Lainy. They’re going to take our child. She’ll be raised in a home by complete strangers, people who don’t love her. She’ll be raised like an animal, given an assignment, and we’ll never know her.”

Elaine drew a shaky breath.

“You know what’s next?” he went on, mercilessly. “We won’t even have each other. Did you know that? I wasn’t going to tell you until we left, because I don’t want you to panic, but Lainy-” his voice caught. “We’re getting assignments. Sooner or later. We won’t be married anymore, we’ll be separated by the state and I will never see you again.”

Her mouth hung open. Then they heard footsteps in the stairwell outside.

“Sip your tea,” he said. “I’ll put out the plates.” He hurried to the cupboard and took out two large, shallow bowls, two spoons, another mug. Then he poured the remainder of the water and the grain into the kettle.

Probably oats again, he thought. Husks and all.

“Horse feed,” he muttered just as the inspector, a tall, thin man in a plain navy coat walked in. He was followed by a thin, graying woman in the same uniform. Both were unsmiling. They acknowledged neither Roman nor Elaine. They strolled around the kitchen, opening doors, looking under the sink.

“What’s that smell?” the man asked the woman. It was, Roman decided, as if he and Rory were ghosts watching the strange goings-on of life, unobserved, knowing the answers to the mysteries turned over in the hands and heads of those before them.

“We think there’s some mold,” answered Roman. Both inspectors looked up at him, blinking.

“I doubt it,” said the woman, looking back at the man. “Every dwelling was checked for mold two months ago.”

“Hoarded food, more than likely,” replied the man. “Search the place.”

They were meticulous, studying the apartment as if it was a dissected frog or pig. Roman felt sweat beading on his brow as they tossed his and Elaine’s things out of drawers, felt along the nearly bare shelves, chuckled and clucked between themselves. He and his wife didn’t stir, except to reach for each others’ hands. They stood tall and straight, waiting for the nightly humiliation to end. And it seemed near the end, until the man lifted a locket on a chain from inside an old, cracked vase. The vase tumbled to the floor, breaking into several pieces. It had belonged to Elaine’s grandmother. Now the inspector kicked its remains aside so they scattered in a wider arc around the floor. He held the locket up in the dim light.

“What’s this?” he demanded. His attention was suddenly fastened on Elaine, who began to tremble. Looking back, Roman would never be able to decide whether it was fear that made her do so, or rage.

“It’s mine,” she said. Her voice was quiet and steady. Her hand fluttered somewhere between her throat and her belly. Roman looked toward the door hanging wide open, swaying a little in the draft coming up the stairs.

“Lainy,” he whispered. “Let it go.”

“No,” she said loudly, looking at him, then the inspector. “You have no right to touch that.”

“No right?” the inspector spat. “Don’t you have any idea-”

“It’s not worth it, Lainy, just let it go.”

“No,” she said. “They’re not just taking it.” Her voice dropped and she looked back to Roman. She almost seemed to have forgotten the inspectors, as unaware of them as they had been of her just moments before. “They’re not just taking her.

“Surely you know the punishment for insubordination,” said the woman, folding her hands rigidly before her.

“You’re coming with us,” said the man. He reached for Elaine. Roman was still holding her hand.

He ran, suddenly and madly, out the door and into the night. Elaine almost fell, cried out. Behind them came the heavy, heaving rage of their pursuers. But the narrow street was filled with rain and fog; they disappeared in its depths, ghosts again. Romane was aware of nothing but the rain, the shouts, Elaine gasping beside him and his pounding heart. Ahead, he could just make out the shadow of another street. They turned there. The pounding of feet had subsided. They crouched beside a dumpster.

“Why did you do that?” he hissed, taking her face in his hands. Even in the rain, he could see she was crying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She gasped for breath. “I got scared. They were going to take me.”

“Shhh,” he pulled her close. “That’ll never happen, okay? Okay?” He shook her slightly. She nodded into his shirt. A moment passed. “Hey, maybe this was just the push we needed. We knew this was coming, right?” He smiled down at her.

“I left the locket,” said Elaine.

“It’s okay,” said Roman.

“I wanted to give it to her. I wanted to see her wear it.”

“Well,” said Roman. “I want to see her. Forget the locket. We’ve got to get out of here.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “But now that we don’t have the locket, you’ll have to tell me the name.”

Elaine’s face lit. He would always recall how it filled and chased the darkness. She opened her mouth.

Then Roman felt a pain in his head. The light faded, and sleep came, to him and the troubled world.