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It was a cold winter in St. Louis, Missouri. 1923 was a specifically frigid year. Snow had blanketed the city overnight, but Viktor was used to a harder flurry. Coming from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, he knew of harsh seasons where he could hardly open the door. He was trained in the game of shoveling piles of ice off his doorstep when none of his neighboring tenants could.
Viktor wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked behind him when his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Bapka, had come outside to speak with him. Her frail body was shivering as if it could hardly hold in the heat of her cardigan. She seemed confused to see Viktor with his sleeves rolled up as he worked in the freezing cold.
“Ohhhhh,” she shivered as she rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm herself. Mrs. Bapka held up what seemed to be a handmade green sweater. “Je taká zima,” she said before holding up the sweater for Viktor. “Sweater! Daj si na seba toto!”
Viktor understood her request perfectly. After all, his native tongue was also Slovakian. He took the uncomfortably fuzzy sweater and let Mrs. Bapka hug around his waist while cooing to him as if he was her own grandson. She was much tinier than he was, and her hugging him made that so much more obvious in the moment.
He carefully rubbed her back and replied with, “Ďakujem.” He was raised from a young age to always politely thank his elders for anything they gave him. To further his thanks, Viktor set the shovel down to put the new sweater on.
Mrs. Bapka looked very pleased to see that the measurements she had guessed were in the right ballpark. Viktor was a very large man, so shopping for gifts was near impossible for the people who cared about him. The sweater was a little baggy, but Viktor didn’t mind it. It kept him warm and wasn’t the worst material in the world. He could just wear his usual shirt underneath the sweater to deal with potential itch.
He watched Mrs. Bapka return inside before he went back to shoveling. He worked at clearing the steps best he could for a few more hours. He only stopped when he looked up and saw his bootlegging partner: Mordecai Heller. He was in more casual attire than what he normally wore during their jobs. Viktor noticed that he had an uncharacteristically upset look in his eyes.
“Hello, Viktor,” Mordecai said in a manner that was obviously trying to mask his emotions. He walked up the steps and invited himself into the heated apartment building. Viktor didn’t protest when Mordecai failed to ask if he could enter. He never did. He simply brought the shovel with him as he followed Mordecai inside. They went to Viktor’s apartment and were instantly in each others’ arms when the door was finally locked tight.
Viktor pressed his nose to Mordecai’s black hair and let out a sigh that released the tension from his body. “Vhy have you come in snow?” he mumbled.
Viktor’s English was never the best. He didn’t know how to use the words ‘a’ and ‘the’ in his sentences, as they didn’t exist in his own language. The concept of pronouncing words that began with ‘w’ was also a struggle for him. Viktor knew he got the gist of his thoughts across, though. Even if his bad grammar bothered Mordecai to no end, he knew his partner understood him.
Mordecai sighed into his chest as he relaxed against Viktor. “I wanted to see you,” he replied with a soft, shivering voice.
Mordecai’s tiny body felt so cold against Viktor’s chest. How long had he been walking in the cold? Viktor ushered Mordecai to the cushioned chair by the window. The two wordlessly got into their usual arrangement: Viktor sat in his favorite chair with his bad knee propped up on the ottoman as Mordecai got cozy curled against his side. Viktor watched the snow silently fall outside his window while he held Mordecai in his arms.
Nights like these were what Viktor tended to look forward to the most. When they could sit in silence and enjoy the unfiltered love they had for each other as the outside world bustled by. When the door was locked, they were able to ignore the consequences their relationship could possibly harbor. None of their rival bootleggers could use their love against them here. No God could see what they did in the sanctuary of their homes. Not while the snow curtained the secrets they held between each other.