Meeting Max Read Free

been frustrated as hell. She would be so close, and yet impossibly far, but here she was, next to him. Lady luck had played her hand quite well.
    As Elena spoke about India, Rick swept her into his imagination. He conjured up quick glimpses of them together in Delhi, buying hot samosas from a street vendor and laughing as they ate them from newspaper wrappings soaked with oil. He saw them on a train riding through the dreary desert of Rajasthan, taking in the splashes of red and yellow from women in saris working in the fields. His imagination took him to the best places.
    I’m thankful that my dreams allow me to experience romance that I can never have in reality .
    The idea of Elena being in a relationship raced through his mind again, but he wasn’t ready to find out. He wanted to learn about her slowly, as if a sumptuous meal had been placed in front of him and he was savoring it. Rick avoided mundane questions, such as asking her what kind of work she did or where she grew up. There was time for that.
    “Elena is such a pretty name,” Rick said, looking into her slate-blue eyes.
    “Thank you,” she said, her cheeks flushing as she stretched out thank you , “you’re very nice. My parents were born in Budapest. They considered calling me Ilona, a typical Hungarian name, but they liked Elena better, and I’m glad they did.”
    “Your parents were born in Hungary? That’s fascinating.”
    “Yes. They were activists and took part in the Hungarian revolution against the Soviets in the fifties.”
    “Really? How did they get involved?”
    Elena took a deep breath and fumbled with the buttons on her cardigan, then turned to Rick. “My parents, Laszlo and Sylvia, felt compelled to act, so they rallied with other college students until the movement took hold. Their marches were peaceful, but spirited and loud. The students used bullhorns to shout for change and fought for the removal of the secret police and oppressive Soviet policies.
    “Rick, you can’t believe what it was like. I can hardly imagine, and I’ve read so much about it. My parents carried signs saying, Russians Go Home. Before long, the secret police fired at the demonstrators and all hell broke loose. The uprising became a revolution. The rebels were called Freedom Fighters, and my father was one of them.” She raised her head when she spoke, pride lacing her words.
    Rick felt he was reliving a slice of history. “Here I am, sitting next to the daughter of a genuine Freedom Fighter. Go on.”
    “The rebels toppled and demolished a heavy, thirty-foot high bronze statue of Stalin. All that was left of it were its boots, and they stuck a Hungarian flag in each one! My father showed me a picture of him and a friend holding their rifles high in the air and smiling as they stood on top of a captured Russian tank.”
    “They were true activists, more like revolutionaries. I’m not sure I would be willing to risk my life the way your parents did. Obviously, they were successful in getting out of Hungary, but how did that happen?”
    “They left Budapest and fled to the countryside to a town close to the Austrian border. As luck would have it, a sympathetic elderly couple offered them food and lodging and told them about a few places where the barbed wire surrounding the area was not electrified. They hid my parents in their farmhouse and waited for a rainy night, when they knew the patrolling Soviet guards would take cover. When the time came, my mom and dad cut through the barbed wire in the darkness and crawled through the mud to Austria.”
    “We do have something in common,” Rick confessed, looking at Elena with a sheepish smile. “My mother is Hungarian.”
    “Oh my God! I’m amazed,” Elena replied, covering her mouth. “It must be kismet. I don’t meet many Hungarians. Do you speak the language?”
    “Just the little I learned when I was a boy. I still remember most of it.”
    “My parents would be impressed.” She grinned.
    “My