Page 17 of Guy's Girl
“He must have been brilliant,” Ginny says.
“He was. And well respected.” Adrian smiles, thinking of his grandmother’s stories. Unlike his mother,Nagyanyaglows with pride every time her son comes up. “Practically the entire city showed up to his funeral.” He points at her glass. “You haven’t even touched your beer.”
“Yes, I have.” She lifts it to her face and takes a long gulp. When she lowers it back to the table, froth lines her upper lip. “See?”
Adrian laughs. He feels an urge to lean across the table and kiss the froth from her mouth. Instead, he picks up his napkin from his lap and offers it. “You have a little—”
“Ido?” Ginny gasps, covering her mouth. “How humiliating.”
This makes Adrian laugh even more.
Ginny grins, wiping the froth from her lip with her own napkin. “So.” She drops it back into her lap. “What was school in Hungary like?”
“School?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.” Adrian sips his Aperol, considering. “Pretty similar to school in America.”
“Really?”
“Well.” For the first time in years, he thinks back to his old schoolhouse on the outskirts of Budapest. He remembers desks and blackboards. Lockers and hallways. A stern teacher. The starched cotton of his uniform.
But he remembers other things, too. He remembers starkSoviet architecture. Boxy beige meals. Ceilings that threatened to fall on your head. Marching.
“We used to march,” he says, surprising himself. “In gym class.”
“You would... what?”
“We would march. For, like, thirty minutes. That was our exercise.”
For a long moment, Ginny just stares at him, eyes wide. He thinks he might have frightened her, but then she tips her head back and laughs so loudly it fills the entire restaurant.
“What?” Adrian asks, bewildered.
“That is...” Ginny wipes at her eyes. Their green seems to glow even brighter. “That is the most former–Soviet Union thing I’ve ever heard.”
A smile sneaks onto Adrian’s face. “I suppose it is.”
“Has no one ever asked you about this stuff before?”
“Not really.”
She shakes her head. “And then you moved to the US when you were nine. What was that like?”
“Hard,” he says. “I had no idea what anyone was saying.”
“You must have missed Budapest so much.”
“I did.”
“I can’t believe no one asks you about this stuff. You have the most fascinating life of anyone I know.”
Adrian laughs. “If that’s true, you really need to get out more.”
Ginny doesn’t smile. Instead, she takes another sip of her beer. Studies him.
“No,” she says finally. “No, I don’t think I do.”
