Sunita and her father meet John Fracker, the head of the Hearts of Faith in Romania mission, Tootsie, his interpreter, and Jaycee, a visiting minister from America. It was through Jaycee that Suni's father discovered his long lost cousin Sandu Stoica in Romania.

Chapter Eleven - A Day in Reghin

Two men and a teenage girl stepped into Mark and Barth's Restaurant as the waitress cleared away the breakfast dishes.

     Tată jumped to his feet. "Jaycee," he said, extending a hand toward the short man with the white hair.

     The threesome stepped up and exchanged introductions. The tall, stocky man with the balding head turned out to be John Fracker. Rita Stoica, Sandu's 14-year-old daughter, interpreted for Mr. Fracker.

     Mr. Fracker insisted on sitting awhile so they could order breakfast. Tată and I decided to stay and talk.

     Mr. Fracker pointed to Rita. "I call her Tootsie because her mother's name is Rita, too. Much the same as Jaycee here uses Jaycee when he comes over here. His first and middle name is the same as mine, John Charles … therefore the initials J. C."

     "J. C. like in Jesus Christ," Tootsie said, and we all laughed.

     "About your luggage, Florin," Mr. Fracker continued. "I was on the phone with Carpatair for quite some time, and they refused to deliver your missing luggage. I told them I bring lots of missionary groups through their airport and I could use the capital Bucharest as easily and bus them up from there, but it made no difference. I've lodged a complaint with the company's officials."

     He looked at me. "Hey, cutie pie, do you mind if I borrow your dad and take him to Cluj with Jaycee and me? He can translate while we get a certain clerk fired-the one that gave us the hard time on the phone. I'll have a taxi drive you and Tootsie to Reghin where you can do a little shopping."

     I squinted at tată. "Tootsie's only 14 and I won't be 12 until next month. You think it's wise to let two young girls walk around by themselves in a strange town?"

     Tată eased a hand over mine and smiled. "This isn't America. Their crime rate is very low over here. But be careful just the same. Pick pocketing is one of the most popular. You'll be fine."

Tootsie and I stepped from the taxi in the middle of downtown Reghin, population 36,000. Stores lined every street in the center of the town and a small park lay across the street from where we got out.

     "Vorbiţi romăneşte?" [Vor-BEETS ro-muh-NESH-teh] Tootsie asked. I didn't know the first word, but the second word meant the Romanian language. So, I guessed she asked me if I spoke Romanian.

     "Înţeleg puţin romăneşte," [ehn-tseh-LEHG poo-TSEEN ro-muh-NESH-teh] I replied, telling her I understood a little Romanian.

     "You learn?"

     "I didn't want to before I came, but I'm studying it now."

     Strolling along with her, I saw many stores like the ones in Tampa selling clothing, foods, medicines, hobby supplies, and other stuff. Tootsie stopped by a CD store as music with a disco beat sprang from her jeans' pocket. She pulled out her phone, pushed a button, and slapped it to her ear.

     "Yes, John." She paused and listened. "We arrived in Reghin. The taxi ride was fine … bine." [BEE-neh]. She paused for a long time. "Okay, John. We meet you in park at three." She hung up and slipped her phone back in her pocket. "He miss me already."

     I pointed across the street to the park. "We're meeting there at three this afternoon?"

     Tootsie nodded and glanced at her watch. "It is eleven now. We have four hours." She pointed at the store next to her. "CD's. You like Romanian music?"

     "I like disco."

     "You like Gypsy music?"

     Wow, I thought, the last thing I wanted to do was bring home Gypsy music to broadcast my heritage to everyone. No thanks, Tootsie.

     "I don't know," I said. "What's it like?"

     "Come," she said, stepping toward the CD store.

     Inside she asked the clerk to play some of the disco sounding pop music. I liked what I heard so much, I bought four: two girl groups called ASIA and Candy, and two female artists named Andreea Balan and Andra-and what a bargain. Four new CD's by some of the most popular Romanian singers and none of them cost more than $7.50 in American money.

     Tootsie tried to interest me in Nicolae Guţă, the most popular Gypsy singer in Romania. I liked the music, but I turned it down. I didn't want to explain Gypsy music to anyone, not even Nina.

     We walked into a store selling cloth material called Mary Land, almost like the state. Now, I thought, I can tell everyone back home how I traveled to Maryland in Romania. While Tootsie searched for some material for her mother, I stood in the back sifting through some gold material.

     "Bună ziua." [BOO-nah ZEE-wah]

     I spun around to discover a Romanian lady standing behind a counter smiling at me. I knew she had said good day, but then she started speaking Romanian like she thought I was a native. My stomach tightened, and I looked around for Tootsie, unable to see her anywhere.

     "I - I - I…" I stuttered, reminding myself how tată always said, 'Let's not panic, Suni. Let's reason out the problem'. I thought hard to do just that, because I had to let the lady know, though I looked Romanian, I wasn't from Romania. I tried thinking of the phrase I used on Tootsie which meant I understood a little Romanian, but I couldn't remember it. The woman had snuck up on me so quick, I got all flustered.

     "Uh …" I said. "Romăneşte … uh … puţin … înţeleg puţin romăneşte."

     The woman stopped and stared at me. The bewilderment on her changing facial expressions told me she couldn't believe I wasn't a native.

     "Nu Romani?" she said, asking 'You're not Gypsy?'

     My sick feeling exploded into anger. Was this woman crazy? Sure, I had darker skin, but not that dark. Couldn't she see that no Gypsy would dress in such a fine skirt and blouse?

     "Nu! Nu! Nu!" I snapped, and ran from the store. I found Tootsie outside looking up and down the street. She spied me and smiled for a second before stripping it from her face. She must have seen the panic on mine.

     "What is wrong?" she asked.

     Madder than a queen hornet having had her nest swatted to pieces, I grit my teeth. "Tootsie, you can't go out and leave me like that. I don't know Romanian."

     "I did not see you in the store and came out to look-"

     My anger exploded, but remembering my advice to tată over our traveling misadventures, I gained control again. "Tootsie, promise me you won't do that ever again."

     She broke into a smile, because I think she understood. "I too was afraid to speak English with John. He force me, and now I speak much."

     I nodded and decided to let it go. Tootsie seemed like a nice girl, and I didn't want to be mad at her. The whole thing was a mistake. She didn't mean it to happen. "All right. I'm sorry, Tootsie. I'll try not to panic next time."

     We walked down a side street and a ten-year-old gypsy girl approached us wearing a traditional long, colorful skirt. She rattled off Romanian so fast I could only catch a few words. I figured she was begging, so I reached in my purse hanging from my shoulder. Tată taught me that charity is one of the finest Christian concepts. I pulled out a coin, but Tootsie blocked my hand as I stretched it toward the girl.

     "No money," Tootsie said. "Some Gypsy parents send Gypsy children to beg money. They bring back and parent buy alcohol. John Fracker's Hearts of Faith mission buy only food … or medicine if they have prescription."

     She spoke to the girl, and then looked at me. "She want money and say little sister is sick. She need medicine."

     "That's terrible. Maybe we can buy it for her."

     Tootsie raised her eyebrows. "She lie. We hear this story many time." She spoke to the girl and the girl answered. "She will come with us and we will buy food."

     Soon we passed a grill. Ready-made subs sat in the window of their counter. Tootsie pointed to one and said, "Una." [OO-nah], which I knew meant one.

     "Soră, soră," [SOR-uh] the Gypsy girl said. "Doi, doi!" [Doy] She popped up two fingers.

     "She has sister," Tootsie said. "She want two."

     "Sora means sister?" I asked.

      Tootsie nodded as I reached into my purse. "I'll buy her two. Tată gave me extra money."

     "Tată?" the girl said. "Sînteţi Romani?" [Sin-TEHTS Roh-MAH-nee]

     I stamped a foot on the ground. "No, I'm not Gypsy. I'm American." I turned to Tootsie and shook my hand. "Tell her!"

     Tootsie stared at me, and I realized she had figured out my true feelings-to avoid anything Gypsy. I plunged my eyes to my purse and glared into it.

     I could be so stupid sometimes, I thought. I only needed to tell the girl "Sînt Americancă" [Sint Ah-mer-ee-KAHN-kuh]-'I'm American', and I would have been done with it. Now, Tootsie knew my dirty secret about how I hated everything Gypsy, and here she stood before me a Gypsy-yet I really liked her.

     I could imagine what she thought of me. But after I paid for the subs and gave them to the girl, Tootsie didn't act the least bit hurt. I know I would have been hurt had someone told me they didn't like Americans-to my face!

     Tată, I'm sorry for being such a jerk sometimes.