Chapter Text
Most of the time, Georg struggled to understand Miss Balash. From their first meeting, when she went over his head and sold that darn cigarette box, she was a mystery to him. Every time he thought he had her pegged (usually as a completely insufferable girl), she would do something that surprised him so much he had to re-evaluate, such as the time he overheard her humming his favorite Chopin piece at work, or the kindness she always showed everybody (other than him). He was used to being surprised by her. However, none of these experiences could have prepared him for the shock of seeing her at his door on a Sunday morning.
“Mr. Nowack, so good to see you!” she exclaimed as soon as Georg opened the door. “May I come in?”
“Miss Balash?” he said in confusion, as she pushed past him and into his apartment.
“I’m sorry to drop by so unexpectedly…” she began, perching on the edge of a chair, “but I need to discuss something with you and it is rather urgent.”
“I see…” He could only stare at the young woman sitting in his living room.
“I need you to pretend we’re engaged,” she said, looking Georg in the eye.
“What?!” he blurted, stumbling back and falling onto the sofa.
“I need you to pretend to be my fiancé.” She had a firm look of determination on her face.
“Miss Balash, I don’t even know where to begin…”
“I know it sounds absurd. It is absurd.” She sighed. “But please hear me out. My aunt is going to be in town next week, and she is forever disappointed in my still being unmarried, and she always tries to set me up with terrible men who have never even read a book in their lives.”
“Why would you ask me, of all people, to do this for you?” he asked, resting his head on his hand.
“Well…” She looked at her shoes as she spoke. “Because you’re the most believable? Mr. Sipos is older and married anyway, Arpad is far too young, and I’d really rather not go anywhere near there with Mr. Kodaly. And…”
“And what?” he asked, eyeing her warily.
“You’realsokindofmytype,” she said in a rush.
“Your type…?” he asked in a strangled voice, displeased with the little burst of warmth he felt at hearing her say that.
“If you weren’t you, I mean,” she added lamely. “My aunt saw me a lot growing up, and I do write the occasional letter, and I think that she would believe that I would marry someone like you…”
“I don’t know if I should feel insulted or flattered right now,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well it’s no secret that you and I are not each other’s biggest fans,” she said. “But I’m a big enough person to admit that you are intelligent, well read, and, um, not unattractive.”
Georg stared at her for a moment as he tried to process the situation.
“Please, Mr. Nowack,” she pleaded. “You’ll even get to hold this over my head for the rest of our time at Maraczek’s, that’s something.”
“Fine,” he said quickly, somewhat surprised at the words leaving his own mouth. “I don’t know why I’m agreeing, but I am.”
“Wonderful! Thank you so, so much!” she squeaked in a way that was almost endearing.
“So, Miss Balash, what do I need to do?” he asked.
“You can start by calling me Amalia.” She grinned at him, and he knew that he was in trouble.
---
The decision to ask Mr. Nowack for help was not one that came easily to Amalia. She had agonized over it for days after Aunt Mitzi’s trip plans had been finalized, desperately trying to think of a better plan - she even considered asking Dear Friend, but decided that that would be too much too soon for a man she hadn’t even met yet. Unfortunately, with little over a week until her aunt’s arrival, she was out of options. Even Mr. Nowack was better than the appalling men that her aunt picked out from God knows where, so she had to try. She just didn’t really expect him to say yes.
But he did say yes and now she was sitting in his living room, formulating a plan with him. Would wonders never cease?
“Alright, Amalia, what else?” he asked, a somewhat pained expression on his face. “What am I expected to do?”
“It’s really just going to dinner with me and Aunt Mitzi next Friday, and pretending like you’re in love with me. I know that’s quite the stretch, Mr. Now-”
“Georg,” he reminded her with a smirk.
“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As I was saying, Georg, I know it’s quite a stretch, but I believe in your acting abilities. After all, you act perfectly kind to customers and your other colleagues on a daily basis.”
“That is not an act!” he said. “I happen to be a very nice person, to those who deserve it. However, I think I can manage making an exception for you for one night.”
“Gee, how kind,” she said, glaring at him.
“Amalia, I don’t have to do this, you know,” he snapped. “I know I can handle it, but I wonder if you can.”
“You’re right,” she said, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, I really do appreciate your being willing. I suppose we should at the very least practice being civil.”
“At least,” he replied, and Amalia could have sworn she saw a hint of a smile on his face.
“I suppose the logical start would be to get to know each other…” She stopped and thought for a moment. “The basics should be easy enough to remember, I’m an only child, I’m close with my mother, and I’ve never known my father, he died when I was an infant. What about your family?”
“I don’t really have much of a family,” he replied, shrugging. “I’m also an only child, my parents died when I was 12, I lived with an aunt for a few years, and then the Maraczeks took me in when I started as their delivery boy. I stayed with them for about a year until I was able to get on my feet. So really it’s just the Maraczeks and Ladislav’s family, if anybody.”
“Oh, Georg, I’m so sorry,” Amalia said softly and, without realizing what she was doing, she placed her hand over his. He seemed alarmed for a moment by the touch, but quickly relaxed and gave her a warm smile - something she had never received from him before, and which made her flush. What was that about?
“Thank you,” he said, holding her gaze for a few moments before seeming to realize what he was doing. He pulled his hand out from under hers and ran it through his hair, a determinedly unconcerned look forming on his face. “It is what it is, though. I’ve lived over half of my life like this, and I’m alright. Anyway, um, what else should I know about you?”
---
It had been an hour since Amalia had barged into his apartment, and Georg felt like his world had turned on its axis. Things had started out rocky - and he’s still not sure why he agreed to go along with the scheme in the first place - but in only a moment, it all seemed to change. When she held his hand, it was like a shock had gone through his system. He was overwhelmed both by the sensation of her touching him - something he was trying very hard to ignore - and by the genuine look of caring she gave him. The tone of the conversation had shifted to casual after that, which was also remarkable. She talked about her interests and Georg had been amazed to hear how closely they resembled his. He’d always known she was a very witty and bright woman, but it had always been in a biting context, and now he found himself actually enjoying conversation with her.
“My favorite book?” Amalia asked incredulously. “How could you ask me that, it’s impossible to answer! I’ll say that right now I’m particularly in love with Anna Karenina. Tolstoy has such a way with words.”
“I have to agree with you there,” Georg replied with a grin. “And Anna Karenina is written so viscerally, it stays with me. It’s like every station platform is Anna’s platform. There are times when I swear I can see her, slowly walking to her death….”
He trailed off when he noticed the strange look on Amalia’s face.
“Amalia? Are you alright?” he asked with concern.
“Oh, yes, um, I’m fine. What you just said sounded very, um, familiar,” she said, still giving him that strange look.
“Maybe it was déjà vu?” he suggested, surprised by the tension that seemed to enter the room.
“Yes, that...that must be it,” she said distractedly. “Well, I should probably get going, I’ve got a few more errands to run today.”
“Okay…” he started, trying to figure out what had caused such a change to come over her. “We should probably discuss what to do about work tomorrow, though.”
“Oh, that’s a good point,” she said, seeming to startle out of that fog and switch into action mode. “I don’t think we should tell anyone, that would just be inviting trouble. Let’s just try and maintain civility, as we need to keep in practice.”
“Do you think we should maybe meet after work?” he asked nervously, kicking himself when he realized how disappointed her answer left him. “We’ve covered a lot of ground today, but I think we’ve probably still got some hurdles to get past if we’re going to be convincing. We could go get coffee or something.”
“Coffee sounds great,” she said, smiling up at him. “I’ll see you in the morning, Georg.”
“Goodbye, Amalia,” he said as he held the door open for her.
He stood in the doorway and watched her walk down the hall until she was out of sight. As he reflected on the events of the morning, he realized with a start that not only did he genuinely like Amalia Balash, but he was sad to see her go. This would take some getting used to.
---
Amalia was being honest when she said she had errands to run, yet she went immediately from Georg’s apartment to her own. His comments about Anna Karenina hadn’t been only familiar, but she was positive she had heard - or, well, seen - those exact words before. She looked through her stack of letters from Dear Friend, found the one she had in mind, and froze. Georg had had the exact same experience as Dear Friend - how very, very odd.
In an attempt to shake off the nagging feeling of concern that this gave her, she decided to write Dear Friend about the coincidence. After all, he might be happy to know that he wasn’t alone in his experience. It wasn’t until she had finished writing about her conversation with Georg that she realized she would have to give some context in order for Dear Friend to really understand. She had rarely discussed other people in her letters with him, and it might seem strange to bring up another man without explaining, and yet...explaining seemed like an even worse idea. Georg was just a friend, if that, but she couldn’t be sure Dear Friend would see it that way. It was inconsequential in the long run, someday she’d be able to tell him the story and laugh, but it seemed imprudent to do so now. She crumpled up the letter she had started and threw it away. It probably meant nothing, after all. This was just one of the many coincidences in life, and there was no reason to dwell on it.
Feeling better, she went to go complete her errands. As she walked through the streets of Budapest, she realized that she was looking forward to seeing Georg at work tomorrow. Maybe they really could be friends.