The Choice

And what about me? How will I be punished when I reveal my
purpose here? I summon the conĕdence I found the day I bought
penicillin from the black market dealer. en, the biggest risk was that
he would say no. I risked more if I didn’t ask for what we needed to
save Marianne’s life. Today, asserting myself could lead to retaliation,
imprisonment, torture. And yet, not to try, that is a risk too.
e warden sits on a stool behind a high counter. He is a large
man. I am afraid Marianne will observe that he is fat, say it too loudly,
and ruin our chances. I make eye contact. I smile. I will treat him not
as he is, but as I trust he can be. I will talk to him as though I already
have the thing that I want. “ank you, sir,” I say in Slovak, “thank
you very much for giving my daughter back her father.” His forehead
creases in confusion. I hold his eyes. I take off my diamond ring. I
hold it toward him. “A reunion between a father and a daughter is a
beautiful thing,” I continue, twisting the jewel back and forth so that it
shines like a star in the dim light. He eyes the diamond and then stares
up at me for an interminable moment. Will he call for his superior?
Will he pull Marianne from my arms and arrest me too? Or will he
seize something good for himself and help me? My chest tightens and
my arms ache as he weighs his choices. Finally, he reaches for the ring
and slips it into his pocket.
“Name?” he says.
“Eger.”
“Come.”
He takes me through a door and down some stairs. “We’re going to
get Daddy,” I tell Marianne, as though we’re meeting him at the train.
It’s a dismal, sad place. And the roles are topsy-turvy. How many of
those locked up aren’t criminals at all but the victims of misused
power? I haven’t been around prisoners since I was a prisoner myself. I
feel ashamed, almost, to be on this side of the bars. And I am terriĕed
that in a moment of arbitrary horror we might be made to switch