Twisting her mouth in a droll way, Silvia said, “They are just jealous of me because I am a natural blonde. Eu am religia atea, I am an atheist,” she said very fast.
The policeman, a simple man, unfamiliar with the word atea, atheist, thought he heard her say “a ta,” meaning “yours.” “Ah! Mine,” he said.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Silvia said. “A ta, yours!” then crossed her chest, as is the custom of the Greek Orthodox.
“Well, since we have the same religion, none of you need to register for identity cards,” the policeman said. “Only the Jews.”
“God forbid,” one of her friends said, spitting on the floor in feigned disgust.
“If you know any Jews, tell them to come to the police.”
“Why is that?” Silvia asked with naïve surprise.
“Not all Jews are recognizable. We have to stamp a J on their documents and give them new names: ‘Sara’ for women, ‘Israel’ for men.”
“How about that!” Silvia replied.
“Yes, they know how to hide,” the policeman said.
“Not from you,” Silvia chortled, patting his hand. “Not from your eyes.”
The policeman blushed. “Some are easier to find, but not all of them have long noses and curly red hair,” he said.
“That is true!” Silvia said.
“But what happened to your nose?” he asked.
“Acident de bicicleta, a bicycle accident,” she answered.
Thus a minor acoustical incident—the slight alteration of a single letter—saved Silvia’s life. She alone of her entire family survived.
After the war, Silvia married and moved in with her husband’s family. There was no work for artists except painting buildings and fences. Silvia stayed home and painted icons of saints conversing with the Virgin Mary. Despite the Party’s banishment of religion, her mother-in-law sold the icons in secret to the peasants from the kolhoz, the collective farms surrounding the city.
Silvia was a skilled painter who could reproduce almost anything. When the job at the movie theater came along, she decided that painting movie scenes seemed far preferable to painting icons of illegal saints.
* * *
After meeting at the kiosk, the new friends, Norah, Silvia, Victoria, and Dima, went to the Party’s head office for instructions from the Commissar of Art, Culture, and Education. Before the Revolution, the commissar, then known as Short Nico, was famous for taking bets at the cockfight pits. Now, with the change of regime, because of his excellent social origin and his experience with popular culture, he was appointed to this highly respected position.
Comrade Nico shook hands with them. “Comrades, the Politburo has rewarded us with a movie theater,” he said triumphantly, pulling up his pants. “But first, you have to learn the ‘Directives of the Communist Party Regarding Education.’”
The immoral, reactionary bourgeoisie kept the movies only for the rich. This changed. Beautiful innocent girls were seduced with promises and with champagne, then abused and mistreated by the imperialist film industry. This also changed. We are united in the fight against oppression. None of that will happen in our free society. Our comrades have the right to a first-class education. Down with oppression!
Comrade Nico stood up, and Norah with her entire team followed his example.
“Down with champagne!” Victoria, the cashier, shouted.
“We received a movie from our brothers in the Soviet Union. I didn’t see it yet but it is beautiful and heroic. For the well-being of our working class, this movie will run until everyone in town has seen it,” Comrade Nico said, keeping his eyes for a second too long on Victoria’s bosom. “You,” he said, pointing at Norah. “You are the manager. You will show the movie six times a day, every day of the week. Many of our comrades at the Red Flag Company work in three shifts. They should be able to see the movie at any time. The first show starts at eleven in the morning and the last one ends at eleven at night. Is this clear?”
“Yes,” Norah answered. “We will do our best to show our gratitude to the Party; we will project the movie every two hours, six times a day, seven days a week.”
Your book looks interesting. Is it available at local bookstores? I hope your reading scheduled for February 10 gets rescheduled.