Reif Larsen - I Am Radar

“Miša is God knows where,” she said. “And Miroslav’s here, in this house, but he feels even further away. What have we done to deserve this?”

Danilo put a hand on her stomach. “No matter what he says, he will always be. .” And he had meant to say, “your son,” but he did not say it.

19. THE ANGLE OF INCIDENCE EQUALS THE ANGLE OF REFLECTION.

That January, a cease-fire was finally declared in Croatia. Televisions were filled with images of UNPROFOR’s bobbing Blue Helmets moving in to manage the peace. Despite the bleakness of winter, everyone’s mood began to lift. Maybe this would be the end.

Life had grown more and more difficult on the farm. There was an increasing shortage of goods, and prices had risen. Without enough hay for the winter, they had been forced to sell all except two of their remaining cows. Then Danilo fell one morning on the ice and injured his leg. He limped around, trying to keep up with the work. Stoja was forced to abandon her daily vigils at the church and run the farm herself. She built her own manoualia and iconostasis in the barn next to the elephant.

Miroslav called to say he would be coming home for Orthodox Christmas, surprising them both. After his last visit, Stoja had been afraid that he would not come back.

On Christmas Eve, the three of them sat in the kitchen as a light snow fell outside. Stoja served tea and then sat down next to her son.

“Let’s talk like adults,” she said.

“Fine,” said Miroslav.

“Your father won’t say this, but he needs your help. It’s been very hard with his fall, and without Miša here to work—”

“Danilo,” said Miroslav.

She took in a little breath and then began again. “I know the university’s important for you. I can see you’ve learned things. But we need you here. You can go back to Belgrade when everything’s normal again. We all must do our duty in difficult times. God bless us, we’ll get through it.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” said Miroslav.

“What?”

“That you would be the one to go so God crazy,” he said. “Him maybe, but not you.”

“I was always a believer. I just didn’t realize when I was younger, that’s all. We’re foolish when we’re young. We’re blind to the truth.”

“Miša’s gone,” said Danilo from the other end of the table. “We could use a hand here.”

“That’s not my fault. Don’t put that on me. Miša left because he wanted to leave.”

“It’s not for forever,” said Stoja. “Just for now.”

Miroslav formed a beak with his fingertips and pinched his tea bag.

“Asking me to come back here’s like asking me to take a poison that’ll slowly kill me. Is that what you want?”

“We’re all taking the poison,” said Danilo.

“What’s all this about poison?” cried Stoja. “What about us? This is your home. It’s your duty to come home.”

“Come help me chop the badnjak, ” said Danilo. “Just like you and Miša used to do. We can do it together.”

Miroslav smiled a long, sad smile. “You’re still looking for your badnjak, aren’t you, Tata?”

“What happened to you, Miro?” said Stoja.

“You and me, together,” said Danilo. “We’ll find a nice badnjak. I know the perfect tree where we can find one. Then you can do a vertep performance, just like the old days.”

Miroslav shook his head. “It’s too late, Tata,” he said. “It’s too late for all of this.”

• • •

THE NEXT DAY, Stoja rose early and collected the water from the well. She made krompiruša pie and sarma and roasted the pastrmka. She rolled the dough for the cesnica bread and placed the traditional coin inside. Danilo hummed to himself and went around sprinkling the hay on the windowsills. Then he went out and chopped down the badnjak himself.

Miroslav came down late in the morning, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“I have to go back,” he said.

His parents stood in the kitchen, dumbfounded.

“But the meal. .” his mother began.

“It’s Christmas!” said Danilo. “You can’t leave now.”

“What about the cesnica ? We must see who gets the coin!” said Stoja.

Miroslav shook his head. His eyes were heavy. “I have to get back,” he said.

“ Miroslav, ” said Danilo, raising his voice. “You must stay! You cannot go!”

“Sorry,” said Miroslav. “Now one of you can get the coin.”

He hugged them both once and then turned and left his home for the last time.

20. WHEN TWO PARTICLES BECOME ENTANGLED, THEIR SHARED STATE IS INDEFINITE UNTIL MEASURED.

Two months later, Bosnia declared independence from Yugoslavia, and the war came to Višegrad. The town was overrun by the JNA; huge tanks squeezed down the narrow streets, flattening signposts, crushing flowerpots. Danilo tried to call Miroslav in Belgrade, but he could not get through. The lines had been cut. He wrote to him on several occasions. He was not a writer, but he tried to write nonetheless.

From a letter dated April 19, 1992:

There is no telling what might happen in the future. Normal people have become sick in the head. They are pushing the Muslims out of town. The army is here now but they will leave soon. After that, no one knows what will happen. .

Why don’t you ever write to us? Your mother is worried. She prays for you every day in the barn. It’s too dangerous to go to St. Stephen’s anymore. We miss you. We miss both you and your brother. I pray we will all be together again.

Love, your father,

Danilo

From a letter dated May 21 (?), 1992:

The JNA have left. . We heard their tanks going by at night. When I went down the next morning, I found they had knocked over our fence. There was garbage everywhere. It is a mess. They say bad things will happen. . Maybe you should come back home. It is best for us to be together. We can celebrate your birthday together. I hope you are safe in the city. I have not heard of how things are there. Your mother sends her love. Write if you can. We miss you.

Love, your father,

Danilo

From a letter dated June 25, 1992:

We tried to call you yesterday for your birthday but the lines are still cut. We lit a candle and said some prayers. We are always praying. We think of you every day. Things are very difficult here. You can’t imagine. The White Eagles have moved in. They are in charge now and they are very terrible. The worst kind of evil. I can’t believe Miša would know them. . They told the Muslims to move back into town and then they began to kill them. Every night, they say. They line them up on the Turkish Bridge and then shoot them or cut their throats and then they throw them down into the Drina. Sometimes they push them over the bridge while they are still alive, and they let them swim and then they shoot them. I saw blood on the bridge last week. Lots of it. I could not look. It is madness, Miroslav. The river does not forget. . I think it is best if we move to Belgrade with you. The Serbs in the town are safe for now, but what if the Bosnian Army hears of what is happening and does the same to us? Do you want your parents thrown off of a bridge into the river? Do you want our throats cut like animals?. . Your mother is not the same as she was. I worry for her. I worry for us all. Please, write to us.

Love, your father,

Danilo

21. THE ENTROPY OF ANY ISOLATED SYSTEM NOT IN THERMAL EQUILIBRIUM ALMOST ALWAYS INCREASES.

These letters no longer exist.

Stoja,” said Danilo.

“Stoja,” he said again.