The Faces of Strangers (18 page)

September 2004

EESTIRIDDLER723: Nico, hello!

HEADLOCK12: P-Train! Haven't talked to you in forever.

EESTIRIDDLER723: I know. It's been a while.

HEADLOCK12: I'm at college. Got here yesterday.

EESTIRIDDLER723: Wow, college already. How is it?

HEADLOCK12: New, different, overwhelming. All the things it's supposed to be. Have you left for training yet?

EESTIRIDDLER723: I leave on the first of October. Why is it overwhelming?

HEADLOCK12: Just massive, and everyone is always amped. It's like they're all on something. Who knows, maybe they are. I met my wrestling team at dinner. They were welcoming, which was nice, but you know, just a lot to take in.

HEADLOCK12: By the way, Chen and Carmine say hi. Carmine is at Reed in Oregon, and Chen, the mama's boy, is at NYU. :)

HEADLOCK12: I haven't seen you on here in a few weeks. Are you nervous about the service? I can't believe Estonia has mandatory service. Haven't you guys not been in a war in like, 40 years?

EESTIRIDDLER723: It's only for eight months. Peacetime training. But they're taking volunteers for the Multi-National Force to Iraq.

HEADLOCK12: Promise me you won't even consider that. You'll enroll in college, right? For next year?

EESTIRIDDLER723: Perhaps. That is still to be determined.

HEADLOCK12: Wait, why?

EESTIRIDDLER723: I was working at this IT company called CallMe over the summer, helping them run subset analyses and simulations. It was really interesting work, and they asked me to stay on.

HEADLOCK12: English, please! What does that even mean?

EESTIRIDDLER723: They're trying to bridge the gap between people across the world. Make the world a smaller place.

HEADLOCK12: How are you going to do that?

EESTIRIDDLER723: It's a communications initiative. It's in beta testing. I'm not at liberty to talk about it.

HEADLOCK12: I see.

EESTIRIDDLER723: I'll let you know about it when I can. But between you and me, I think it's going to be important.

HEADLOCK12: That's awesome, as long as you're happy. And you can always go to college next year.

EESTIRIDDLER723: Perhaps.

HEADLOCK12: What does that mean?

EESTIRIDDLER723: Only that there are many variables. I will be a reservist once I leave the military. I might be called up. Or I might just join CallMe full-time. My number got called in the army during a crucial few months within the company. I have received special governmental permission to continue work while I am here, during my free time, of course.

HEADLOCK12: Wow, sounds like these people have some sway.

EESTIRIDDLER723: As I said, I think the technology will change things.

HEADLOCK12: Wave of the future and all, huh? Well done, P-Train.

HEADLOCK12: How's the family? I know your dad took the make-up test a few weeks ago, but I didn't want to email him in case...

EESTIRIDDLER723: Yeah, good you didn't. He failed it. Again. It was a rough month, but nothing that couldn't be salved with a bottle of Viru Valge. Mama promised him that he would only have to take it one more time, but he says they have already taken his dignity and refuses to re-enroll. Mama's at her wit's end with him. She's not sure what to do.

HEADLOCK12: Poor guy. I feel his pain. Estonian was the hardest class I've taken in my life.

HEADLOCK12: So, how's Mari?

EESTIRIDDLER723: Still in Moscow.

HEADLOCK12: Wow, she must have hit it big.

EESTIRIDDLER723: She said being closer to the action would increase her chances of getting booked. She always says she's
so busy
, which I think is
such bullshit
.

HEADLOCK12: Well if you talk to her, tell her I say hi.

EESTIRIDDLER723: When is your first wrestling meet?

HEADLOCK12: Next week.

EESTIRIDDLER723: Good luck.

HEADLOCK12: Ha thanks. I'm probably going to get creamed. If you thought I was big, man... I'll have to send you a picture of the guys on my team. They're massive.

EESTIRIDDLER723: I am sure you exaggerate.

HEADLOCK12: Maybe a little. :) But for real, drop me a line from time to time, ok?

EESTIRIDDLER723: I will.

HEADLOCK12: Speak to you soon. Night, bud.

EESTIRIDDLER723: Good night. All the best.

PAAVO

Northeast Defense District, Tapa,
Estonia
October 2004

The rumor spread during Paavo's orientation at basic training that the previous year, a trainee had shot himself and died instantly. His entire troop had been given emergency leave and excused from the remainder of training due to trauma. But as Paavo entered the entry hall that led toward the barracks, it no longer appeared to be a rumor. As his troop marched forward, they passed a square portrait of a young man with the ghostly fuzz of a mustache perched atop his thin upper lip. The olive-green soldier's cap on his head was slightly askew and his eyes were so piercing and luminous that Paavo felt as though he were being watched
. In Memoriam
, the plaque below read.
Urmas Kul, 1987–2003.
He would be certain to pay careful attention in Ammunitions, though they wouldn't be handling weapons until more than halfway through their service. Paavo felt a sharp poke between his shoulder blades, and he straightened his posture mechanically.

“That guy,” Priit whispered hurriedly from behind. “That guy offed himself last year. Remember hearing about it?” Paavo kept his eyes trained forward.

“It was an accident,” Paavo said, murmuring out of the sides of his mouth like a ventriloquist. “He didn't know the gun was loaded.”

“That's what they want us to think,” Priit said. “Think they'd have all these conscripts if word was that
Eesti Kaitsevagi
made you suicidal?” Paavo concentrated on following the shoulders of the recruit in front of him. The rough edges of the material of his jacket were scuffed and worn, probably passed down through the years. The group came to a halt as they allowed a man dressed in a Facilities jumpsuit to push a cart holding a large, bulky item covered in burlap through the hall ahead of them.

“Wonder what's in there,” Priit said. “Ammo, perhaps? Bodies?” In the introductory exercises, Priit had tried to partner with Paavo at every opportunity, but luckily they had been paired off alphabetically by last name so Paavo never had to deal with him. Priit was needy and desperate for attention, attaching himself like a leech to anyone he thought might be willing to listen. Perhaps if Priit were ignored, he would get the hint and fall back. Instead, goaded on by a silent and captive audience, Priit prattled on, unbeknownst to their captain, who was conferring with his senior at a heavy wooden desk in the middle of the long hall.

Paavo had attended the mandatory physical checkup over the summer without a fuss. It had been Vera who had been a mess, wringing her hands and reminding him again and again that he had special skills that would likely exempt him from having to enlist.

“It says here, Paavo,” she said, waving the sheet he'd received from the Defense Forces the previous week. “Look. I'm not making it up. It says, due to any exemplary displays in IT, commerce/business and technology. IT. That's you. Just take them all your CallMe work from the summer.”

“That stuff is confidential, Mama,” Paavo said, pushing his foot into a sneaker. “You're not to tell anyone about it, and I certainly can't be taking work out of that office. Honestly, it's fine. Reservists have never actually been called up. Who knows—I might fail the physical altogether. They'll probably think I'm too weak or out of shape and then I'll be back behind my desk at CallMe, letting my muscles atrophy.” But Paavo's senior year on the soccer pitch had strengthened his legs and toughened his core. His quads were like the thunderous ham thighs that hung in the butcher's window in Raekoja plats, and when he wore shorts, his calf muscles bounced as though there were Ping-Pong balls encased within them. He was certainly fit to enlist in the Estonian Compulsory Military Service for the eight months of required stay. As their captain walked back to them, Paavo could tell he'd only recently been promoted, as he held his head high, but walked on the tentative, spindly legs of a newborn calf.

“Recruits,” he yelped; it was unfortunate that his voice hadn't been upgraded along with his status. Sometime in the past year, Paavo's thin, reedy pitch had been replaced with the deep rumble of a bass drum, making Vera jump the first time she'd realized that it was her son and not an intruder answering her from his bedroom. “You'll now be receiving your bunking orders. Step forward as I call your names and claim your sleeping kits.”

Paavo's bunk was underneath Ragnar's, a hulking man with gray-fringed sideburns, and opposite Toomas, one of the hairiest Estonians Paavo had ever seen. His entire body was covered in a blond pelt; his cheeks were furry and thin, fine strands peeked out from the cuffs of his jacket onto the backs of his hands. Priit, luckily, was assigned to the far end of the tunnel-like barrack, where he would have to befriend an adjacent bunkmate to bother. Paavo tucked the sheets onto the insubstantial mattress and unfurled the thin brown blanket over it. He sat down over his work, wondering how many bodies had sat in this very spot over the years. The reservists had only been reestablished once Estonia had established its independence in 1991. Paavo could barely remember the day. There had been a celebration that remained rather fuzzy in his memory. The family had paraded to Toompea, to a crest on a hill overlooking their tiny, medieval city. Paavo remembered his father feeling grumpy about attending, but Leo had allowed Mari to stick a small flag with those three solid blocks of color into his cap and had walked down the path holding onto Paavo's small hand. Vera had painted three stripes of color onto each of the children's cheeks and Paavo had swiped at his nervously as they walked, leaving a big black-and-blue smudge down the side of his jaw. As they neared Toompea, the hill was already pulsating with people.

“I thought we might have been early,” Vera said, astonished at the masses milling about, kissing one another, painting the ubiquitous three stripes of color on exposed skin, waving flags, cheering, shouting, and above all, mostly drunk.

“I'm not sure about this, Vera,” Leo said.

“Nonsense,” Vera scoffed. “This is history. We have to stay and be a part of it.” They settled against the metal fence, feeling invigorated by the parade that trailed beneath their feet and the hum of the crowd surrounding them. Bottles of communal vodka were being passed around, and Leo found himself holding one and then another.

“In the spirit of the day,” he shrugged, and took two large swigs from each of them. Vera shook her head and concentrated on the crowds below, where majorettes were twirling batons and there was even a man shooting fire from a cone. She tried not to notice when another pair of vodka bottles made their way back around their way, and instead grasped Paavo's and Mari's hands with fierce focus.

Sometime in the afternoon, Paavo recalled peeling himself off the fence upon which he'd draped himself when his legs were too tired. They were commemorating the extinguishing of the eternal flame that had been lit in front of the Bronze Soldier Statue during the time of Soviet power. The speeches had droned on; ancient women were being honored for having survived the dark trenches of Siberian labor camps and returning to their homeland to tell the tale. Dozens of garlands and bouquet after bouquet of marigolds were bestowed upon them, the stark orange of the petals searing bright against the black sea of their dresses. Paavo remembered wondering where the little old men were. He must have gone to Vera to ask her this when he found her standing, watching the masses of people below. Her cheeks were wet and she swabbed at her eyes before grasping Paavo's hand in hers.

“Maybe it's time to go,” she'd said. “Let's find your father and Mari.”

They found Leo leaning against a stately birch tree, his eyes at half-mast. Mari was asleep on his shoulder. The rubble from the celebration surrounded them, including empty Vana Tallinn bottles, discarded Estonian flags that had lost their stems and confetti that would eventually seek new life as mulch. Paavo didn't remember much more, other than the fact that when he went to stand next to his father to wake him, his breath puffed out with the sour smell of vodka.

“Come on,” Vera said, standing over her family. “We've all had enough.” Paavo hoped that a celebration of that stature would turn his father's glum demeanor into something upbeat. He didn't understand why Papa had been so down since Estonia had announced their independence, but he hoped that things would settle at home, that a dove from the dule that had been released into the air—“Commemorating peace for our people,” Vera had whispered into his ear during the solemn ceremony—might come to roost in the eaves of their house, bestowing calmness and serenity on the family overall. But Paavo's room shared a wall with his parents' room, and each night, hours after he'd been tucked in to sleep, their conversations rose in an arc, the timbre of their voices piercing the veiled nights. Papa was upset—he was afraid about something, and Mama was constantly comforting him in her gentle, honey-filled voice that everything would be okay.

That had been almost fifteen years ago. Now Paavo concentrated on the two knots in the wooden slat of the bunk above him. Ragnar shifted and the knots on the board dipped dangerously low. Paavo closed his eyes. During those awful nights when his father would drink and his parents would fight, he remembered wishing he could have been a twin, so that one Paavo could have been Russian with Papa and the other Paavo could be Estonian, so that both parents could be happy. One could brandish his Estonian passport proudly and the other could hold on to his gray passport that allowed his legal status in the country, but not his ability to vote or become a true, accepted citizen. Those things didn't matter to the second Paavo. He just wanted his father to stop feeling like an alien in an independent world; he wanted to show his support to this man who had always felt like an outsider. And now, he thought, if there were two Paavos, one could complete the mandatory military service and the other could continue the work he'd already set into place at CallMe.