The definition of haunt is varied—trouble, disturb,
irk, worry, bother, preoccupy, disturb.
During the month of October, we are reminded of Halloween and our
childhood memories of haunted houses and spooky ghosts. But that is not the definition of haunt that
I am talking about.
I am referring to other definitions of haunt, like to
cause somebody unease or regret. I am
referring to the fact that I will never know for sure what really happened to
Sergei Kourdakov in the early morning hours of New Year’s Day, 1973, when his life
unexpectedly ended. That is what haunts
my thoughts.
Below is an excerpt from my draft of A Rose for Sergei. (Sergei
was meeting my brother for the first time.
Keith, and his girlfriend, had just picked Sergei and me up to drive us
to a party.)
Sergei and I were sitting in the back seat
of the car, relaxing and enjoying the ride through the streets of Washington DC
as I pointed out the names of the monuments and buildings we passed. Keith was engaging Sergei in conversation,
politely asking him about the Soviet Union, where he was born, and general
questions. They chatted amicably back
and forth until Sergei unexpectedly became extremely uneasy about my brother’s
familiarity with his former homeland.
“Why do you know so much about the Soviet
Union?” Sergei suddenly questioned. He
spoke in a low, measured, disquieting voice as his eyes darted around the car
at everyone, taking everything in.
This
is not going well at all, I thought. I turned and looked directly into Sergei’s
haunted eyes. I felt a cold chill run
through me as I tried to comprehend what he must be thinking, that we were
taking him somewhere to turn him over to . . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment