The Confession

4

Agnes showed off her athletic uniform that evening. They’d just arrived at school for the Pioneers’ new fitness campaign. Like the students I’d seen in the street: white short-sleeved shirt and shorts that stopped just above the knee. “Aren’t those a little revealing?” I asked. She modeled in the living room to a Prague Symphony rendition of Mahler, her milky legs goose-stepping. “Where are your glasses?”

No question could faze her. She demonstrated the new, scientific exercises-sharp bows from the waist, arms out, bent, forward, down. When she stopped finally, her face was as red as the Pioneer scarf.

We went in to help Magda with dinner, but she was already plating it. While we ate, Agnes went through the eleven-point Pioneer pledge she was supposed to memorize: “ One: We the Red Pioneers honor our socialist motherland by wearing this red scarf. Two: We the Red Pioneers value learning as it advances the wisdom of our motherland. Three: We the Red Pioneers respect our parents-”

“That’s a good one,” I said.

“Shh,” Agnes warned. “You’ll throw me off. Four: We the Red Pioneers love peace and the Soviet Union, and hate all warmongers. Five…”

She stumbled over number seven, the one about loving and respecting work and all working people, but otherwise did a fine job. It was impressive enough to provoke a smile from Magda.

“You coming tonight?” I asked her.

“What tonight?”

“Georgi’s party.”

She gave an exaggerated expression of anguish, as if she’d forgotten, then shook her head. “I’ll stay here. I don’t want to leave Agnes alone.”

“I’m fine by myself,” she muttered through a mouthful.

“She’s old enough. Come on, you’ll enjoy it.”

She raised her eyebrows at me: no contradictions in front of the child. “Really. I’d rather spend some time with my daughter.” She turned to her daughter. “We’ll do something nice. Girls’ night.”

Agnes shrugged and went back to her plate.