The Boy from Reactor 4

Dear Vera,

How do you start a letter to your sister-in-law when fifty years have passed since you last saw her? When she thinks you’re dead?

You don’t.

But I have to.

So let me try again.

Dear Vera,

I’m not dead. I’m alive. I know you won’t believe this until I offer you some proof. And even then, you may not care. But it’s not for my sake that I write. Let me explain.

I was found guilty of theft of state funds and sentenced to hard labor at Sevvostlag in 1960, when I was twenty. I was not buried in asphalt, the way everyone was told. Three members of my crew were. Three weren’t. The man who I robbed wanted me to suffer daily for the rest of my life. He spared my life so the gulag could kill me every day.

Five years later I killed a man in the gulag in self-defense, but they gave me a life sentence anyways. I was in the gulag until they closed it down in 1972. After that, I was allowed to settle in Kolyma, where I remained a prisoner. I worked on the Kolyma Highway—the Road of Bones—until 1983, and then on the Trans-Siberian Railway until 1998.

In August of 1998, a man came looking for volunteers. We were told the work was dangerous but that the pay was high. He told us we would be pardoned and allowed to leave Kolyma and resettle in Ukraine. I have lived outside Kyiv since then.

In 1994, I had a son with a woman who was doing the same work. She has died since then. My boy’s name is Adam, and it is for his sake that I write this letter.

My health is not good. I am dying. Adam is sixteen. I want a better life for him. Would you be willing to sponsor him? Let him come to America, the best place on Earth. He is a good boy. He has done nothing wrong. He does not deserve this fate.

I do not have an address because I do not want anyone to find me. I do not have a phone because I cannot afford one.

There is a woman in Kyiv. She knew the woman who bore my child. She agreed to give me her phone number and address for the sake of the boy.

Clementine Seelick

Yaroslaviv Val 8

Kyiv 01021

Ukraine

Phone: 244-3683

It was I who first kissed you beneath the apple cart when you were twelve, not my brother. You kissed me back, and then slapped my face and ran off. You stepped on my ankle as you ran. I limped for the next two weeks.

I am not dead, Vera. I am alive. Please help my boy.

I eagerly await news of your response.

With respect,

Damian