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Klaus's fingers hovered over the piano keys, as if he were about to commit a crime.
Well, you’ll never know what ridiculous regulations the ministry will enforce next. Rumors say crying may become illegal very soon, so thinking about the dead and the arrested may well be banned soon after. Criminals and traitors to the homeland should sink into oblivion forever, right?
Klaus remembered the day well. He and Maria were waiting for the bus when a burly policeman escorted Jakob Manishek out of the building treating him as a potato sack in the process. It was clear as a day that the Shimmers would never see their neighbor again.
And that was just the tip of the iceberg, merely the climax of the tragedy that befell the once-happy Manishek family. Who would have thought that a simple blood donation – or lack thereof – could ruin a family? Louisa and her son had gone on the run, just to escape it.
"They both have the traitor's gene," Klaus could make out from Jacob's drunken mutterings. Klaus didn't know what happened to them next. Perhaps they were caught and sent to a camp, or they sought help in the wrong place—in any case, they never returned, and Jacob Manishek was forever changed.
The most unsettling thing was that Klaus and Maria hadn't exchanged a word about what had happened, neither after Louisa and Marcus's disappearance nor after Jacob's arrest. They simply continued their day as if nothing had happened. They went to work, returned home, had dinner, went to bed: everything as usual.
But Klaus struggled to fall asleep as his thoughts circled back to the Manisheks. He was horrified by his own calm and couldn't help but wonder if his neighbors would continue their daily lives just as calmly if he, too, became a victim to the system's meat grinder.
Maria? She would certainly mourn him, even if it was indeed forbidden by then. As for Jacob and his family... There was no one left who remembered anything good about them. The Raneks, for example, preferred to pretend Jacob had always been like that, and that his wife and child had never even existed.
(They have traitor genes anyway, right?)
The other neighbors had already arrived with or after the new landlord, and, of course, they had no idea of the whole story. So the family lived only in the memories of the Shimmers, who had lived with the Manisheks on the same floor for quite a long time.
He didn’t talk to Maria as he felt she had never forgiven the Manisheks for Zlata's demise. True, they weren't to blame for her death: Hector Medina had only discovered the identity of her real parents when it was too late. A mother's heart, however, is rarely rational.
Understanding her pain, Klaus decided not to pester her. Especially since sooner or later he would have to mention his thoughts of his own potential arrest. No, that would only upset her more.
But the more he ruminated about the Manisheks’ destiny, the more he felt the looming presence of the ghosts of his neighbors beside him. And Klaus decided he had to pay at least some respects to the gone family, to appease these "ghosts" or his own conscience.
After all, funerals are not for the dead, but for the living, aren't they?
The idea came to him on its own. One time Klaus was home before Maria as she stayed late at school for some patriotic event. His eyes then fell on the piano, and he immediately knew what he had to do.
Jacob would definitely not like this, Klaus thought, sitting down at the instrument. Old Jacob would grumble and demand that he stopped immediately. Not out of malice, of course. Klaus smiled and lifted the piano lid.
He began to play. Nothing specific, a simple, improvised melody. Perhaps a little clumsy, imperfect, but Klaus liked it just the way it was, because it was precisely this imperfection that reminded him of his neighbors, their lives, and of their entire unfortunate house with all its broken destinies.
Yes, that felt right.
The unexpected creak of the door caught Klaus off guard. His fingers paused on the keys, and a rough, dull chord immediately startled the intruder.
"Oh, shit!" Klaus recognized the new landlord's son by his panicked voice.
Turning around, Klaus indeed saw Patrick Stein standing in the doorway of his apartment.
"The door was ajar! I swear!" the boy took a step back, horror in his eyes, holding his hands out in front of him, as if Klaus was about to kill him. "I’m so sorry!"
Klaus smiled: teenagers are so funny! The situation did seem ambiguous, but Klaus hadn't thought that Patrick had suddenly decided to follow in his father's footsteps. For that he would need the keys to all the apartments, which the teenager certainly didn't have.
"It's okay, Patrick, I believe you. You were attracted to the music, I suppose?"
"Well, yes," he muttered, looking away and blushing like a tomato. Klaus realized from his stiff gestures that Patrick really wanted to ask what he was playing, but the awkwardness of the situation prevented him from doing so.
Klaus decided to gently push him to the right question.
"I wouldn't be surprised if I indeed failed to close the door tightly. I admit, I got so carried away that I wouldn’t pay attention to anything around me."
"What are you so carried away with?" Patrick asked nonchalantly but Klaus heard relief and gratitude in his voice.
Klaus hesitated. Not that he was afraid to share anything with Carl Stein’s son or thought he was doing anything shameful or forbidden. It was just that lately Klaus had been catching himself in an annoying habit of briefly considering whether to say something or not. Each single time he would speak his mind, feeling annoyed at himself, as he never intended to remain silent or hide his point of view. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder if one day he would keep silent and thus betray himself.
"So it happened that you were eavesdropping on my little funeral ceremony."
"Funeral? For whom?" Either the boy relaxed, or surprise made him forget the standard teenage rule for interacting with adults: always act as if nothing "adult" interests him.
Klaus nodded toward the door, hinting at the nearby apartment, which had been already occupied by a new tenant.
"Jacob Manishek," Klaus hesitated to mention his family, whom the boy hadn't had the chance to meet.
Patrick was even more surprised.
"Him? He struck me as," Patrick frowned slightly, searching for the right word, "not a particularly pleasant person?"
"You think 'unpleasant people' don't deserve to be remembered?" Klaus couldn't resist teasing him.
"No! I mean... I just didn't think you were... Well... Friends?"
"We weren't. In fact, I’m almost sure he hated me."
"Didn’t he hate… everyone?" Oh yes, Jacob had shown his new-found cynicism to all the new inhabitants of the house, creating a rather strong first impression.
"True. He had his reasons."
"Who doesn't?" Patrick chuckled.
The boy was right. Who in their country didn't have any reasons to hate everything and everyone? Many, if not everyone, had lost someone or something to the system. Those who were lucky enough to stay unharmed still risked losing it all every day.
Klaus's family was no exception: his house, work, Zlata – all were taken He and Maria only had each other left and both would sink into despair if left alone.
They say, you must appreciate what you have. There's some truth to it, but when you see a warning before your eyes, a reflection of your own possible future in a cynic with a lost soul, it's hard not to wonder what would have become of you if you were in his shoes. What would become of your wife if you were the first to go.
Yes, Klaus could understand Jacob perfectly well, perhaps too well. And where there is understanding, there is compassion.
"So, do you... feel sorry for him?" Patrick asked, as if summing up Klaus's own thoughts.
"Yes," perhaps "sorry" wasn't quite the right word, but Klaus decided not to quibble.
"But he got caught with drugs! It's his own fault, isn't it?"
"I'm not trying to justify him, but I don't want to judge him either. I knew him for a long time, and I knew how he ended up like this. And if I were in his shoes, who knows what I would have done”—besides, Patrick himslef isn’t safe from repeating Jacob's fate, or his father or mother—anyone. But Klaus didn’t mention it. "So... I thought it was right to at least somehow honor his memory... His entire family’s memory, to be precise. He had one, you know?"
"No... I never really thought about it."
"It's okay, I'm sure no one told you about it. It's an annoying habit of this house—never to talk about... the departed."
“It’s hard to imagine that such people could have… A family...”
“A wife and a son,” Klaus’s mind reminded him of a daughter, but Klaus kept silent about her as the wound was still too painful. - Louisa and Marcus. I don't know what happened to them, but I suspect his... connection to drugs has something to do with their destiny”
“Sure” - Patrick grinned, seemingly having reached some conclusions of his own. Klaus was sure Patrick was a smart boy and would figure it all out himself when the time came. If he was lucky, even without losses. - "But I'd still be more careful," he glanced toward the stairs to the first floor. Was he hinting at his father?
“I don't think I'm doing anything illegal. Yet, - Klaus smiled. - "But thank you for your concern."
An awkward silence fell. Patrick seemed unsure what to do—keep up the conversation? Say goodbye and leave? And again, Klaus came to his aid.
"If you have the time, you can stay and listen. If you wish, of course."
"Oh, sure, why not?" Patrick chuckled and rolled his eyes, showing he still found the situation somewhat weird, yet he stepped into the apartment.
"Just close the door behind you, please." Mumbling an apology, the boy caught himself and slammed the door behind him. Klaus smiled. He hadn't expected an audience, but perhaps it would only be for the better. Stein Jr. had his own image of Manishek, and it wasn't up to Klaus to change it. But people like Patrick gave them hope for the future—exactly what they all lacked right now. Maybe at least his generation would manage to preserve its soul and build a better future, at least for its own family. But all this was a hazy future. For now, let the music play.