They were having their morning coffee.
“We have a problem,” Mike Slade began.
“Yes?”
“A delegation of a dozen Romanian church officials wants to see you. A church in Utah has invited them for a visit. The Romanian government won’t issue them an exit visa.”
“Why not?”
“Very few Romanians are allowed to leave the country. They have a joke about the day Ionescu took power. He went to the east wing of the palace and saw the sun rising. ‘Good morning, comrade sun,’ Ionescu said. ‘Good morning,’ the sun said. ‘Everyone is so happy that you are Romania’s new President.’ That evening, Ionescu went to the west wing of the palace to watch the sun set. He said, ‘Good evening, comrade sun.’ The sun didn’t answer. ‘How is it that you spoke to me so nicely this morning, and now you won’t speak to me at all?’ ’I’m in the West now,’ the sun said. ‘You can go to hell.’ Ionescu is afraid that once they get out the church officials will tell the government to go to hell.”
“I’ll talk to the foreign minister and see what I can do.”
Mike rose. “Do you like folk dancing?” he asked.
“Why?”
“There’s a Romanian dance company opening tonight. They’re supposed to be pretty good. Would you like to go?”
Mary was taken by surprise. The last thing she had expected was for Mike to invite her out.
And now, even more incredibly, she found herself saying yes.
“Good.” Mike handed her a small envelope. “There are three tickets here. You can take Beth and Tim, courtesy of the Romanian government. We get tickets to most of their openings.”
Mary sat there, her face flushed, feeling like a fool. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.
“I’ll have Florian pick you up at eight o’clock.”
Beth and Tim were not interested in going to the theater. Beth had invited a schoolmate for dinner.
“It’s my Italian friend,” Beth said. “Is it okay?”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve never really cared much for folk dancing,” Tim added.
Mary laughed. “All right. I’ll let you two off the hook this time.”
She wondered if the children were as lonely as she was. She thought about whom she could invite to go with her. She mentally ran down the list: Colonel McKinney, Jerry Davis, Harriet Kruger? There was no one she really wanted to be with. I’ll go alone, she decided.
Florian was waiting for Mary when she stepped out the front door.
“Good evening, Madam Ambassador.” He bowed and opened the car door.
“You seem very cheerful tonight, Florian.”
He grinned. “I am always cheerful, Madam.” He closed the door and got behind the wheel. “We Romanians have a saying: ‘Kiss the hand you cannot bite.’”
Mary decided to take a chance. “Are you happy living here, Florian?”
He studied her in the rear-view mirror. “Shall I give you the official party-line answer, Madam Ambassador, or would you like the truth?”
“The truth, please.”
“I could be shot for saying this, but no Romanian is happy here. Only foreigners. You are free to come and go as you please. We are prisoners. There is not enough of anything here.” They were driving by a long line of people in front of a butcher shop. “Do you see that? They will wait in line for three or four hours to get a lamb chop or two, and half the people in line will be disappointed. It is the same for everything. But do you know how many homes Ionescu has hidden away? Twelve! I have driven many Romanian officials to them. Each one is like a palace. Meanwhile, three or four families are forced to live together in tiny apartments without heat.” Florian stopped suddenly, as though afraid he had said too much. “You will not mention this conversation, please?”
“Of course not.”
“Thank you. I would hate to have my wife become a widow. She is young. And Jewish. There is the anti-Semitism problem here.”
Mary knew that already.
“There is a story about a store that was promised fresh eggs. At five o’clock in the morning, there was a long line waiting in the freezing cold. By eight o’clock, the eggs still had not come and the line had grown longer. The owner said, ‘There will not be enough for everyone. The Jews can leave.’ At two in the afternoon, the eggs still had not arrived and the line was even longer. The store owner said, ‘Non-party members leave.’ At midnight the line was still waiting in the freezing cold. No eggs. The owner locked the store and said, ‘Nothing’s changed. The Jews always get the best of everything.’”