The Power of Testimony

VIRGINIA PRODAN
My nails dug into my hands. What is everybody so afraid
of? Why do they speak in whispers? Why doesn’t anyone help
Anna? Everyone looked toward the relatives who were lawyers.
Did they know something? Two lawyers nodded, passing
knowing looks. One said a fellow attorney who had
expressed his concern about the new price on meat disappeared
between the courthouse and his home, never to
be found. His children would not be allowed to apply to
law school. Instead, the Securitate required them to take
construction jobs.
Many of the adults, it seemed, carried secrets. I bit my lip
to hold in the questions that ran through my mind. Does this
have anything to do with the men who guarded the church years
ago and called my friends and me “church people”? Were Anna’s
parents church people? What happened to them? Why does she
scream so often in the night?
“Liars!” The voice came from the back bedroom where
Uncle Carol was resting.
My mother rubbed her temples. Uncle Antony, Uncle
Carol’s son, groaned.
I hustled to the back bedroom. My job was to take care
of Uncle Carol, bringing him food and making sure he was
okay. Everyone treated him like a sick person, but he seemed
normal to me.
“Criminals!”
“Uncle Carol, what’s wrong?”
Before Uncle Carol could answer, Uncle Antony stepped
into the room, his face as red as the juice from the grapes
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