Home Game by Endre Farkas

Author:Endre Farkas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Signature Editions
Published: 2019-10-18T21:11:27+00:00

35

What a time to get one. Wave after wave of blood beat against his temple. He opened his eyes but the daylight forced them shut again. He yawned to relieve the tightness in his jaw. It helped. He popped a couple of his mother’s migraine pills, hoping the codeine would kick in before takeoff. He put a couple of the pills in his shaving kit. His parents were already up, talking quietly.

“We shouldn’t have said yes.”

“Hannah, he’s a big boy, he’s a man.”

“When he’s running the business and has a nice Jewish wife and children, then he’s a man.”

Tommy walked into the kitchen, rubbing his scar. “I guess I won’t be a man for a while. “He smiled.

“Hey, elephant ears.”

“You have a headache?” his mother asked when she saw him squinting.

“A little.”

“Yours are never little. Maybe you shouldn’t go.”

“Anyu, don’t be silly.”

“I made cream of wheat, eggs, toast and coffee. Coffee always helps my headache,” she said.

“And your pills.”

“Is everything packed?” his father asked.

“A week ago,” Tommy said.

His parents had bought him two large suitcases. “I’m not moving back there,” Tommy protested when he saw them.

“One is to take clothes for your grandfather, Aunt Magda, Emma-mamma and Gabi,” his mother said.

“Hannah, do you remember how thrilled we used to be when we got one of Margit’s packages?”

“The whole town knew about it.”

“You and Emma went through each item, stroking them, patting them, especially the jackets.”

“It’s where Margit hid the nylons and the money, in the lining of the most tattered jacket, the one that those thieving customs people always passed over. Those rotten lice. They always stole something from the package.”

“Why did she hide nylons in jackets?”

“Nylons were valuable, especially ones without seams. They were only available for the wives of Party members. They were worth at least two months’ salary. If you could get them. Every woman in town wanted a pair,” Hannah said.

“They still do,” his father said.

“And the money?”

“American dollars, which were illegal to have, were worth more than gold,” his mother said.

“I remember the time she sent two hockey sweaters. You and Gabi were in heaven. They were the Montreal team’s jerseys. They even had numbers on them. Both were number nine. You and Gabi wore them all summer even though they were woollen. You boys were the envy of all the other boys. Who knew that one day we would be the ones sending a package. And that you’d be delivering it personally as a Canadian,” his father said.

“You’re going to make me look like a homokos,” Tommy joked, watching his mother fill the suitcase with bras and slips.

“You’re not one of those!” she snapped.

The first time he heard the word homokos, after coming home from Mr. Papp’s, Tommy didn’t know what it was. Homok, he knew, meant sand, so he assumed that homokos was a person who had something to do with sand. But Mr. Papp had nothing to do with sand.

“Homoks are men who like boys,” his mother had explained. “And if you aren’t careful, they will turn you into one of them.

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