Work Text:
October 1956
Gregor lives his life by preparation.
He plans demonstrations. He plans defensive maneuvers. He plans guerrilla attacks. He plans emergency exits, countermeasures, shelters.
No matter how much he plans, he cannot hope to shield Florence from the violence. It is something no child should have to grow up with—especially not, he thinks selfishly, his own daughter. And so, he plans an escape.
For all his planning, he will never be able to prepare himself to say goodbye.
“This is Hungary, where we live. And this is Austria,” he says, with the map spread out over the kitchen table. Florence kneels on the chair next to him to get a better view, her wide brown eyes taking it all in. “When the time comes, you will get on a train here, in Budapest, and follow this line into Austria.”
He traces the route with his finger, and she follows it with hers. “Does it have beds?” she asks.
Gregor pauses a moment, to work out the question behind her question. He remembers an elderly neighbor telling her about a trip he took on a train with sleeper cars. “The train won’t have beds. It will only take a few hours to get to Austria,” he says. “Once you get there, you will sleep in a bed for a few days, until it’s time for you to get on the airplane. Then you’re going to go… here.”
He stands so that he can reach, and points above and to the left of the map. She waits for his action to make sense to her, and when it doesn’t, she makes a face. “There’s nothing there, Papa,” she says, as if it’s obvious, certain that she knows more than he does even as small as she is.
“Not on this map, no,” he says, and reaches for the globe on the kitchen counter. “See? Here’s us again, Hungary. Here is Austria. And here is England. You’re going to get on an airplane in Austria, and when you get off, you’ll be in England.”
“It’s too small,” she says, very seriously.
“It only looks small here. It will be much bigger when you get there, I promise,” he smiles.
She doesn’t look convinced, but he can’t really blame a 5-year-old for having trouble visualizing space when shown a map of the entire planet. “I go with Linda?” she checks.
“Yes, you’ll be going to England with Linda. She’s going to take good care of you,” Gregor tells her. “When you get there, you’ll go to school and make all kinds of new friends.”
“Does Mr. Belko go to Engand?” Florence asks.
“No, I don’t think so. You’ll have new teachers, too,” Gregor says. “I know you’ll love them.”
They go over the plan again. Gregor has Florence explain it in her own words, and asks her questions to prompt her about next steps to keep her from getting distracted. It only takes a couple of times before he’s confident she understands it. She’s a very smart girl. He knows she’s going to go on to do amazing things someday.
“Now, Florence, this is the most important thing,” he says, picking her up and placing her on his knee. She looks up at him solemnly, and he wants more than anything to take that away from her. She should be able to have a carefree childhood. She shouldn’t have to live like this. “You cannot tell anyone about this. If anyone asks you any questions, you don’t answer them. Alright?”
“Uhuh,” she says, nodding quickly. She’s had a lot of practice keeping secrets. She knows how this game works.
She reaches out and picks at the zipper on his jacket pocket that she likes to play with as she looks up at him. “When does Papa go to Engand?”
It breaks Gregor’s heart. He almost can’t bear to look into her eyes, so trusting and innocent. As hard as it is, he can’t look away—he doesn’t have much time left with her. He has to savor every moment.
“When things are safer, I’ll come to England and bring you back here,” Gregor says. He doesn’t intend for it to be a lie. He just has a hard time imagining Budapest being safe enough for his daughter to live here again—not with the way things are now. Not with what he’s doing. “I don’t know how long it will take. But someday, I know you will come back here. You will always have a home in Budapest.”
She nods again, but he doesn’t think she understands. That’s alright. Florence is young. She will have to grow up far too soon. Every extra day he can give her, of being a child and being with her family, is one he is going to try to make the most of.
He sets her down. “Alright, you can go play now,” he says. “But remember the plan. You can always come look at the map if you forget.”
“Okay!” she says, and starts to run off before she stops and turns around. “Can you play with me?”
“Alright,” he agrees readily. Today, he has time. “What would you like to play?”
She thinks very hard, her face scrunched up from the effort of it. “Can we play chess?” she finally asks.
“Of course,” Gregor smiles, blinking away tears. She runs off to grab the chess board, and he rubs at his face as soon as she’s out of sight.
It will never be enough. He will never get enough time with her. He will never be prepared to send her away. But she deserves to live a full life with nothing holding her back. She deserves safety and freedom, and to live without tanks rolling through her neighborhood.
She deserves so much more than Gregor can give her. He will do the best he can, and hope she’ll understand. And maybe, someday, they’ll be lucky enough to meet again.