Promise Me You'll Come Home

TW: War

Somewhere on the Eastern Front, June 1916

It’s been two years, but it may as well have been twenty. I don’t feel my age—not after what I’ve seen and gone through. It’s almost like I’m in a daze. I walk blindly through what feels like Hell on earth every single day, something a boy just shy of nineteen years should never experience. Nothing really matters anymore. I just want this war to end.

Nothing matters, until I remember.

I’m painted brown in a layer of mud and sitting in a waist-deep ditch, head leaning against the wall. Water pools around everyone’s ankles as rain patters down from the sky above, the dawn sunrise hidden by a dark veil of grey. The summer showers help wash the dirt and grime a little. It’s not like it matters. We get bathed in mud right after.

Rain drips from the brim of my helmet as I glance down at my lap, where the rifle I’d stolen from the body of a Russian private sits. On top of it, my freezing, dirtied fingers cradle the sting of a cold silver locket in my hand.

Sometimes I’m so consumed by the misery of this war I forget the promise I made.

The one thing that matters.

Szentendre, Austro-Hungarian Empire, July 1914

You’re not a coward, are you?

Miklós’ voice whispered in my mind as I slung my canvas bag over my shoulder. There wasn't much in there besides essentials and a small Bible Mama insisted I take. I needed little to go off to war. I shouldn’t have been leaving—I was months underage, but according to Miklós, a few months shy of seventeen wasn’t too young to enlist.

The more I hung out with that boy, the more I understood why Mama advised against his company. His relentless pressuring and quiet taunting had led to this.

I was going to leave Mama and my brother all alone.

There wasn’t any turning back now. Fixing the plain cap I chose to wear before receiving my uniform at the regimental depot, I gave my humble, shared bedroom a lingering glance before walking out and shutting the door behind me.

Mama and Ricsi were waiting in the kitchen. I still expected them to meet my gaze with burning, seething glares for abandoning them, but Mama stood straighter when I entered and smiled, even if her eyes were red and glossy with emotion. Ricsi always seemed to look up to me, but in that moment, he glowed with more admiration than I’d ever seen before. He probably thought I was brave.

Mama took a cloth-wrapped bundle from the wooden table in the center of the room. “You can eat breakfast on the train.” When my brows narrowed, suspecting she was trying to get me out of the house as soon as possible, Mama spoke on. “I went this morning and splurged on a few of your favorites. They’re as fresh as I could find.”

I immediately thought of kakaós csiga and kolbász being underneath the cloth. My grim face must have brightened noticeably, because Mama smiled wider, extending the package to me. I received it from her hands. “Köszönöm, Mama.”

All three of us were silent as I packed the bundle inside my bag. When I turned back to them, Mama rubbed at an eye with a handkerchief, her tear-dampened cheeks glossy in the yellow rays of early morning sunlight. She exhaled before facing me. “You make us proud, okay?”

We were saying goodbye here instead of at the train station. It would hurt more otherwise.

I nodded before turning to Ricsi and crouching on one knee. My ten-year-old brother beamed at me from behind unbrushed hair.

“You’re the man of the house now, kisegér,” I whispered. “Can I trust you with the job?”

“Yes, sir,” Ricsi answered with pretend seriousness and saluted. Mama choked out a strangled laugh above us.

I got to my feet and patted his head. A moment later, Mama clutched me in a tight hug. I bit my lip to withhold the tears that sprang to my eyes. This was likely the last Mama and Ricsi would see of me for a long time, depending on how long this war lasted. I wanted them to remember me as I hoped I looked: strong and, as Ricsi likely saw me, the most courageous sixteen-year-old boy in Szentendre, even if I was exactly the opposite.

Mama cupped one of my cheeks and kissed the opposite one before she released me.

Not wanting to linger any longer in case I started crying, I forced a smile on my face that made my cheeks ache and walked to the doorway. I felt their eyes on me as the door creaked open. I only turned back long enough to give them a small wave before it clicked closed behind me.

My heavy steps pounded on the old wooden stairs leading down into the shop below our living space, the one our family ran by ourselves without Apu here to operate it. I inhaled a breath to steady myself as I padded down the last steps. Would Apu be proud of me for enlisting?

After registering, Miklós and I had agreed to meet up in the market square so we could leave together. Shutting the store door behind me and starting down the narrow, cobbled street, I tightened my grip around my bag strap.

I wasn’t going to meet him. I would risk ending up in the same regiment as him by sticking together, and I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to spend a war with less than Miklós.

But I wasn’t going to the train station either. Not yet.

Because I had one more person to say goodbye to.

I stared ahead, avoiding the eyes of families, couples, and other boys and men traversing the streets, most of them headed for the train station either to leave or bid loved ones off. The quaint, narrow two-story buildings I’d known all my life passed by. Ribbons of cloud tinted by the ascending morning sun stretched above the angled roofs. A trio of older boys laughed wildly ahead as they swung their bags and strode for the station, speaking loudly and excitedly in German.

These people were early—the train didn’t depart for a while, but maybe the to-be soldiers wanted to grab window seats on the trains before they were snatched.

I had a different reason—one that put a nervous pit in my stomach. I knew it was a bad idea, which is why I didn’t tell Mama the real reason I was leaving early, yet I couldn’t shake the desire to see what would happen.

She’s probably not even going to answer the door, but it’s worth trying.

Instead of walking in the same direction as everyone else, I turned onto a different street. My older sister never told us where she went when she ran off with the Serbian man, Simeon, that Mama and I didn't approve of—we had pretty good reason not to—but in a small town like Szentendre, gossip traveled fast. Through a few women Mama tried to avoid for their nosiness and some friends of Janka’s, we learned about her new residence. It wasn’t until now, almost two years later, that any of us decided to reach out to her.

She chose to cut herself off from us, so we should respect her decision and leave her be, Mama had told Ricsi and I, even while her tone betrayed that she wanted to see her daughter too.

I went past people headed in the opposite direction, stomach spinning until I eventually found the street where Janka’s house was located. My eyes landed on a small residence halfway down the street, the walls an aged light blue and the tiled roof slanted towards the cobblestones. A few flower pots sat under the two first-floor windows filled with dainty blossoms of all colors.

Of course there were flowers. Janka and Mama would plant them sometimes, and my sister would water and take care of them with a passion I couldn’t understand.

Walking closer, I noticed a narrow alleyway at the corner that put space between the building and its neighbor. Maybe there was a door there I could knock on for privacy instead of the main entrance.

I passed under a stout tree before crossing to the right side of the street and slipping into the alleyway.

There was a door there, accompanied by a window with closed shutters. If Janka was behind this wall, she wouldn’t have seen me coming.

So maybe she would open the door. Even if she slammed it in my face right after, I’d at least get to see her.

Shrouded in the shadow of the wall, I glanced back at the street and grimaced before lifting my hand to the door and knocking.

There were a few heartbeats of silence before I heard shuffling and footsteps inside.

My heart jumped when the door clicked and pushed open. The face I’d known since the beginning of time popped out from around the corner of the door, brow furrowed before her gaze locked with mine and her face flushed of all color.

Janka remained frozen, her puffy red eyes taking in the sight of me and the bag slung over my shoulder. They widened even more when she realized where I was headed.

I swallowed hard as I waited for a further reaction and studied her.

She didn’t look any different. The same brown waves, the same blue eyes framed by thick lashes, the same tall stature—or was she shorter? Maybe it was because I’d caught up to her while she was gone.

“What are you doing?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I… I came to—”

“You’re just going to leave Mama and Ricsi?” The door flew wide open, making me flinch. She stood rigid in the doorway, her blanched face now growing red with fury. “They don’t have Apu to look after them. Aren’t you underage? What the devil are you—”

“You left them.”

The words slipped out matter-of-factly before I could restrain myself. Janka immediately fell silent, lips parting.

Ejnye. There was no taking back what I’d said.

There was a flicker of movement behind Janka. I glanced up to find a man pause several feet from the doorway, staring at me in surprise. There was a leather satchel hanging from his shoulder, undoubtedly packed for him to head off to the army.

With a jolt, I realized I was looking at Simeon.

Things had been tense for the many Serbians in Austria-Hungary since the Archduke’s assassination in Sarajevo—however, it hadn’t struck me that going to war with Serbia meant someone like Simeon had to fight against his own people. That must have been the reason Janka’s eyes were puffy from tears when she opened the door; her lover was leaving too.

I bit my lip and glanced back at Janka, who had followed my gaze but now snapped her attention back to me and stepped up closer. It would have intimidated me if not for the fact I was nearly as tall as her now. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” she said through clenched teeth.

Instead of listening, I decided to go on without thinking. “You can’t tell me not to leave them when that’s exactly what you did. And I’m not running off in a fit. I took the time to say a proper farewell.”

Something like hurt flickered in her eyes, but her anger didn’t cease. “Is this what you came here for, Emil? To make me ashamed of myself?”

“I came here to say goodbye.”

“You shouldn’t have to say goodbye!” Janka snapped.

Increasingly realizing my mistake in coming, I groaned inwardly. “I knew this was a bad idea. This conversation is going nowhere, so I’ll just do what I came here to do and leave. Viszlát, Janka.”

Without waiting for her to respond, I whipped towards the street and started out of the alleyway, chest tightening in frustration. It was stupid to think she’d be welcoming when I showed up on her doorstep after two years of silence.

I was about to step out when a hand clutched my arm from behind, yanking me back. I froze at the mouth of the alley before turning. Janka, bent over from lunging to grab my arm, looked up at me with angry tears in her eyes. “You’re really going to leave?”

Her question hung in the air when I didn’t respond. As we stared at each other, Janka’s grip on my arm loosened, but she didn’t let go. “You’re only sixteen. You’re still—” When her voice cracked, her free hand went to her throat. It caused the fury in her face to falter. “You’re still a boy. My… my little brother. You can’t go off to war.”

My throat tightened. “It’s too late now.”

After a few seconds, Janka’s hold slipped from my arm, jaw tightening. Her gaze broke away from mine and darted past me out to the street, indecision swirling in her eyes.

“...I need you to promise me something.” When I straightened at her words and searched her face, she said under her breath, “Promise me you’ll come home.”

I swallowed the knob in my throat and nodded, managing to croak out the words. “I promise.”

Meeting my eye again, all she did was blink at me for a long moment. She choked on a breath and, before I could react, threw herself at me in a hug that nearly knocked me to the ground. I flinched, tensing before I regained my balance and slowly wrapped my arms around her too, eyes burning.

Buried in the hug, Janka said hoarsely into my shoulder, “I promise I’ll look after Mama and Ricsi while you’re gone. If… if they’ll welcome me back.”

“You know they will.” I felt her nod against my shoulder, any remaining tension in her posture fading.

When Janka pulled away and Simeon appeared in the doorway to check what was happening, she grabbed my hand and slid something cold into my palm, pressing my fingers over it. I glanced down at my hand in surprise before I noticed her backpedaling towards the door.

Janka’s gaze never left mine until she reached the doorway. When Simeon made eye contact with me, he nodded stiffly and took Janka’s arm.

My sister had other goodbyes to say.

I bit back the emotion welling in my eyes and returned the nod to them both.

After the corner of Janka’s mouth lifted in a hesitant, lopsided smile, the door pulled and clicked shut.

Standing in a beat of silence, footsteps and voices echoing down the cobbled street behind me, I looked back down at my hand and unraveled my fingers.

What met my eyes was a silver locket.

As it stared back at me, I had no idea about the solace it would bring me in the years ahead.

Somewhere on the Eastern Front, June 1916

I eye the simple locket in my hand and swear I can feel the warmth of Janka’s hug, even after so long. I haven’t felt something like that since. Out here is only numbness, cold, and dread.

When my regiment is roused to our feet, I stuff the locket into one of the breast pockets of my uniform—right by my heart—and pick up my stolen rifle. The familiar sensation of a cold knot in my gut creeps back in as boots squelch in the mud and guns clack.

In this barren, muddy wasteland of misery, I know I won’t be able to keep my promise to Janka.