Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 16. Chapter 16

Part One of: Bren Speaks

We did invite the American men outside to have a nice Thanksgiving dinner in the formal dining room. It was almost a buffet style, but Boris didn’t care for buffets. The table was elegantly set with the china and silver available to use and was attended by other staff members who worked inside the house to help Boris. Only most of the household staff was American, too. No problem. We served them! That’s right, served by Boris, Yuri, grandmother, Peter and me! I felt good about that. I was serving! Yea, yea, I have issues being served. I’d deal with that issue. It was my holiday as well, but I was going to have Makarovian Thanksgiving with my grandmother and new family. I need to stop referring to them that way. They were my family. Peter and I had passed the year mark together. We were married in our hearts, but not legally. That was coming.

The men from the United States were delighted to come in to have Thanksgiving dinner. Boris was a chef from the Cordon Bleu! It was very good. Understand, I liked turkey, but if not done right it was dry. Boris’ turkey was not dry. I loved a good ham and I did have some of that. Stuffing, gravy, green bean casserole (I helped Boris look that up) sweet potatoes, mushrooms, cakes, and pies…it was a feast! Oh, and I almost forgot, the cranberry sauce! It was known by Eastern Europeans, but Boris just looked at some of these dishes with wonder. It wasn’t Russians’ or Makarovians’ sort of fare. I wasn’t abandoning the holiday, but…I’ll be honest. The holiday and what happened later was…not the best example of humanity. These Native Americans had compassion for these people and taught them the means to survive! They could have just let them die. I’m not fond of the Pilgrims…they left England to escape religious persecution? They in many ways were worse! It didn’t take long before the “superior” people came and…well, they bought the land that became New York with beads and blankets? No one’s history was free of ugliness, but the following centuries these “savages” were mistreated and made slaves! The Africans they brought over were later and the Native Americans were slaves. Who did we think we were!? Being from England or Europe as a whole did not make us any better than anybody. We took their land and just abused them. I’ll come down from my podium now. I’m not telling anything you don’t know. It was later that day when my phone told me I had a message. Then Peter did, too. His eyebrows rose as he looked at me as he took his phone out.

“Olek?” I asked Peter.

“Yes, it is,” Peter said with a smile. “He wants us to call him.” He looked at his watch. “It isn’t that late in Makarovia. We can do it now” He jutted his head toward our bedroom. He sent Olek a quick message to go to his computer.

In our study, we activated our computer and it only took a minute before not only Olek, but Helga appeared smiling.

“Hello!” Olek greeted.

“Hello, Eric…Peter.” Helga greeted as well. This relationship with Olek was reflected in her now. Her dark brown hair was down and styled. Makeup on, she could almost attract me. She was gorgeous. Almost attract me, but not really, though, because…I had Peter! I was already looking forward to them telling us they were getting married and could see they’d have beautiful children. It was obvious!

“How is your first American Thanksgiving, Peter?” Olek asked happily.

“Well, it is a nice day, but we’re not really celebrating it,” Peter said.

Olek looked surprised. “You’re not? It’s your host country’s day. Eric is becoming Makarovian, but he is still American.”

“I am.” I nodded. “We’re celebrating Makarovian Thanksgiving on Saturday.”

Olek’s eyes were searching left and right as he thought to find this in his mind. “There is no Makarovian Thanksgiving.”

“There is now!” Peter said smiling. “In the past, we celebrated…mostly…about twenty to twenty-five holidays in Makarovia. That depended on who was in control at the time. We just thought a Thanksgiving of our own was needed.”

“Oh,” Olek said thinking and shrugged. “I think so. We need to make it known. Having one that covers all of Makarovia will take a few years.” He smiled broadly. “We’ve reached past the three million point in our population.”

Peter smiled. “You know it will only get bigger.”

“Since I have you both together…” I said smiling, “I’m not rushing you, but there is a certain reporter that would love to know what’s happening with you, Olek…and your mystery someone.”

“Reporter?” Olek frowned and thought and he nodded slowly. “Drew Humphries?”

“That’s right,” I answered. “If you two are seen out in the world together. If not told, reporters make things up. Can I tell him you’re…involved?”

Olek chuckled and looked at Helga. “What do you think, honey?”

Helga smiled a little coyly. “I don’t mind…he and I haven’t been out in the world that much together, but…” she shrugged, “I have no problem with it.”

“Courtship in Makarovia is…different. There are protocols and traditions.” I said. “Peter said we’d marry very shortly after we got together, but officially made it known much later.” I held up my hands. “I’m not proposing for Olek or you, Helga!”

Olek chuckled. “Sure, you can tell him. We will get married. Officially that has yet to happen.”

I let out a shriek of delight. “I knew it!”

Peter grinned. “Helga, you were told what happens in Makarovia?”

Olek was chuckling at what he saw from me.

“Yes, I was.” Helga nodded. “I just don’t want what we do interfering with your wedding.”

“We can marry the same day!” I said. “Is the proposal absolutely necessary?” I asked Olek.

Olek got serious. “I think it needs to happen.” He sighed. “We give the people assurances about what she’s willing and what she intends to do. She will be Queen.”

I looked at Helga’s face. Like me, she was feeling the weight of this. “It is a different sort of thing. I know you love Olek. I’ve wanted him to find someone. I know he has. Just remember, you will be queen, but more important…you’ll be Olek’s wife.” I looked at her more. “I know you’ll be a great queen.”

She nodded. “Makarovia has a queen now.”

I nodded. “That’s right. She will also be queen. She will be the Dowager Queen, right Olek?”

“That’s right,” Olek said.

I nodded. “She will still be operating to improve health care and education in Makarovia?” Olek nodded. “There is a lot of construction going to happen in Makarovia. I assume you still want to do that.” I said to Helga.

She nodded. “I do.” She said matter of fact. “I trained hard to become what I am. I will be…a working queen.”

“I am no authority. So, hear me.” I felt she was ready, but… “You will be, but…when I became engaged to Peter. I told the people what my priority was. Peter. I still want my degree and will use it to improve Makarovia. I really love Makarovia. My priority, though, is Peter. I’m not telling you what you have to do. I’m not saying you have to. I’m simply telling you what I did.”

She smiled. “I will probably ask you about a lot of things about life here. Someone that’s coming from outside to marry into this Ivanov family, you would know better.”

I grinned. “It’s not hard. It’s just…different.” I slipped my arm around Peter. “But worth it.” I smiled at them as Olek kissed the side of Helga’s head and gave her a one-sided hug. “Can I send a picture of you two?”

Olek nodded. “I’ll send one to you. It will be there today. You’ll both be here in a week or more. We can talk whenever, but we look forward to seeing you, in person.”

“I can’t wait,” I said to Olek.

Olek smiled back. “It’s nearly zero degrees…that’s in Fahrenheit now in Makarovia. There is a lot of snow.” He warned.

“Are you trying to discourage me? It won’t work.” I said.

“Just warning you, that’s all.” Olek chuckled. “See you in about a week. I love you both.” He got nudged by Helga. “Sorry, we love you both.”

Helga did what Olek had done and moved closer to the camera. “I love you both.” She pulled Olek into a kiss. “He needs to see we’re together now.”

“He’s sharp,” Peter said smiling. “He’ll catch on. Have a good night!” We all did what we did as the call ended, kissing our fingers and touching the screen.

It was later when the day was drawing to a close here when we went up to our room. The men enjoyed their Thanksgiving dinner. I checked my email and Olek did send a picture. It was a good picture! He and Helga were having a dinner at the palace. Olek was as handsome as ever in a nice suit and Helga was in a black gown. She was beautiful. I typed up a message about who she was and…I didn’t tell them what Olek said about marrying, but let Drew know it was very serious. Who she was and that she was a constructional engineer. Peter came in the study brushing his teeth as he walked in bare-chested and wearing only pajama bottoms, he was a sexy man. The pajama bottoms were because it was cold out, but he and I usually slept naked under the covers. The house was warm, but…things got cold!

“Don’t you have to spit?” I chuckled at him.

“Imm gon to,” Peter mumbled around the toothbrush and took it out. “Are we listening to more of Bren’s sessions?”

“Sure,” I said. “There are several years of sessions.”

“Okay.” He waved the toothbrush. “Be right back.”

Coming back he squeezed in with me.

“Should we get another chair?” Peter asked me as our bodies were pressed together.

“No,” I said instantly. “If we break this one, yes, but we get one the same size. I like you, Peter.”

His eyebrows rose. “You like me?”

I nodded. “I love you, which you know, but I like you. There’s a difference. I love you, but I like spending time with you. Lovers and friends.”

Peter gave a nod. “Huh.” He kissed me. “I like you, too.” He thought. “We need to have another word. It just doesn’t…say it right.”

I smiled as his arm came around me to make us fit better in the chair. “We’ll work on that.” I touched the cursor to the next file clip.

“This is the counseling session with Bren Schultz and Milo Weir.” She said and gave the time and date. “How are you feeling today, Bren?”

“Sick,” Bren answered quietly.

“Physically? Or about what we’re going to talk about?” Dr. Lowenstein asked.

“Is there a difference?” Bren asked.

“I think malaise is in anticipation of what you know is coming up, which is understandable. We’ll take as you can handle it, but I will probably push you a little if needed.”

“Okay,” Bren said even softer.

“I’ll be right here, Bren,” Milo said to him.

“I know you will be,” Bren said.

“He needs you, Milo. Your love and support are vital.” Dr. Lowenstein said. “I ask you to let Bren talk about it. He needs to get it out himself. Understood?”

“Sure,” Milo answered.

“Let’s start when you got home from Midi.” Dr. Lowenstein said.

“We got back to Berlin and…” Bren started. “I didn’t want it to end, but…we both went home; our separate homes. As soon as we parted, I began to miss Milo. When I came into the house, both my parents were waiting for me. I remember Mom was pulling on a handkerchief sitting in a chair, while Dad had been pacing near the front door. Dad really never hit me before, but he did that night. He punched me hard. Demanding to know where I’d been and was I with Milo. I couldn’t lie to them, they knew! I just said yes. He told me I was never seeing Milo ever again. He knew what was happening and it was to stop. Now. Then he dragged me up to my room and shoved me inside and…he must have planned for it. There was a new doorknob with a lock with a key he could do it from the outside and locked me in. He had even nailed the windows shut and not just a nail or two, but all the way up on either side. I couldn’t get out! It was the beginning of summer and it would be hot in the day without the windows to open, but I had no choice. I was worried about what Milo’s parents would do to Milo. Milo’s father was…more…I had no doubt he would beat Milo. Milo told me he had been shoved in the cellar and also locked in. There were no windows down there and he couldn’t get out. I was so upset. Not about me, but Milo. I tried to figure how to get out to see Milo. Most everything was taken away from my room, there was nothing…my father brought dinner and breakfast. He wouldn’t even talk to me. I never saw my mother again after returning home that first night back. I thought of breaking the window, but…it would make noise and they were sturdy and nothing in my room would do it fast enough for me to get away. I didn’t want to leave Milo. I could go to his house, but he was in as much trouble as I was. I knew that. I was so worried; always hoping Milo was simply alive. His father, I had no doubt could kill him and say it was an accident. I didn’t know what to do. It was the night of that third day when I heard the knock on my window. Never a more beautiful sight as Milo, who climbed up motioning for me to come out. I wanted to! I told him about being locked in. I could see him thinking. He held his finger up and climbed down. My parents were asleep, but if Dad woke up and caught him…he returned and tried to pry the window open. The glass broke and he got angry and just smashed the window open, tearing away wood and glass with one of Dad’s long metal tools. Once open enough I climbed out and went to the ground with Milo. We ran away as my Dad was shouting to come back. Why would we do that? I would never let Milo go. We ran for our lives. We ran for our life! It was maybe a mile or so away when we stopped ducking behind a building. I had never ever been so happy to see someone. I remember hugging him and he told me he wasn’t letting me go. I wasn’t letting him go. We weren’t stupid; we knew it was dangerous now. How could we become fugitives from our own parents? For three more days, we wandered the streets planning what to do. Where could we go? I suggested Paris, men like us were tolerated there more. Milo said the Germans were there, too. I wondered if we should head to Switzerland as they were neutral. We made plans to head there, but we would have to walk or get a ride. He had some money…he had not even been allowed to change clothes after he got home. He was dirty from coal from climbing out through the coal chute. He cleaned up as he could, but…it was that last day when…we were hungry. The Nazis were everywhere. We tried to avoid them, but…” his voice started to shake, “they must have been told, but…we were just two…among thousands on the street. How did they find us? While trying to purchase some fruit…I didn’t see them approach. Milo did. They were coming directly toward us. Looking right at us. They were coming for us!” He was beginning to cry. “We ran.” He said in tears. “Weak from not eating much these days and nights…we were caught!” He cried even more.

“It’s okay, Bren,” Milo said quietly. “We made it away. It was in the past.”

“Not for me!!” Bren cried. “It still happens in my mind.” His breath hitched. “We are told we were in violation of the Paragraph 175! We were arrested, Milo! Hauled off like criminals just like thieves and murders. I never hurt anyone. You never hurt anyone…we were sent to that awful camp! We were sent to Bergen Belsen.” He said as the agony was clear. “We were forced to strip off everything and forced to stand around naked as the guards would poke and prod…in places that…they cut off all our hair and told to put on those…black and white things! Don’t you see? It isn’t over for me, Milo! I can’t stop thinking about it!”

You could hear Milo again talking to just Bren, assuring and comforting him…kissing him lightly.

“Okay, Bren.” Dr. Lowenstein said. “You’re doing so well.” She said sincerely. “You’re talking about it. Please understand. We’ve got to get you to realize it is in the past. Your mind is still telling you it is still happening. It is not. It is over.” She stood up. “I think we’ll stop now.”

“No!” Bren said. “I want this to end!” He said firmly. “If talking will get rid of this. I’ll talk!”

“Okay.” Dr. Lowenstein said. “We’ll talk some more. Do you need water again? You’re doing well. You’re staying grounded. Perhaps you would like something stronger for courage?” The humor came out. “We have plenty of Russian vodka.”

“Of course, we do,” Milo grunted.

“Any whiskey available?” Bren asked.

“I have my own stash.” She said and you heard her open a drawer and the clink of glass. You heard liquid poured in some glasses and she must have given it to them. “Take your time, Bren. I’m not leaving you. Milo clearly won’t. Trust him. Trust me. This is the best way to put it in the past.”

You heard someone swallow the way one does with a strong whiskey. “Okay.” He took a deep breath and went on.