Blooms of Darkness (24 page)

Their room is wide, and there is a large bed in it. There’s even a sink in the corner. After many days without a house, without washing, and without a toilet, the place seems like a splendid inn.

“We’re in good shape here, right?” Mariana says.

“Very much so.”

But Hugo’s sleep isn’t quiet that night. He sees his mother among a mass of refugees, and her face is dark and thin. She goes from person to person and asks whether they have seen Hugo. A woman refugee asks distractedly, “Where was he?” His mother is embarrassed for a moment, but she recovers and replies, “With a Christian woman.”

The refugees are consumed by their hunger and don’t take the trouble to answer her. They look to Hugo like the people from the ghetto who were waiting to be deported. In great despair he bites the handcuffs that shackle him. The massive
effort does indeed free his hands, but instead of going down to the refugees and to his mother, he falls into a deep pit.

“What’s the matter?” Mariana wakes him up.

“Nothing, a dream.”

“Don’t pay attention to dreams,” she says, and draws him to her breast.

59

The next day the elderly couple offers them cups of tea. They accompany them to the gate and wish them a successful journey. Moved by the gesture, Mariana hugs and kisses the woman, and they immediately set out.

The following days are quiet and pass without surprises. They go from hill to hill, light campfires, and buy potatoes and cheese from the peasants. Hugo fishes successfully. Every day he catches three or four fish in his shirt.

Mariana’s fears are not assuaged, but they have lessened and are no longer outwardly expressed. From time to time she says, “You, my dear, must watch out for yourself and not try to defend me. Everyone has their own fate. That’s life.” Hearing her words, Hugo freezes where he is and doesn’t respond. But sometimes the words form in his mouth, and he says, “We’ll always be together, that’s God’s will.” His words bring a wry smile to her face.

Sometimes he reads psalms to her. Mariana encourages him and says, “Read, honey, you have a marvelous voice. I don’t understand the poems, but they exalt my soul. Do you understand them?”

“Not everything is understandable to me, either.”

“If we find a priest, he’ll explain them to us. Sometimes they leave the church and stroll along the river.”

While they are on the road, Hugo adopts Mariana’s way of speaking. When something succeeds for him, or when Mariana overcomes her depression, he says, “Thank God.” Mariana feels that she has transferred something of her inner self to Hugo. “Take the inside of Mariana and throw away the shell,” she says to him. “What’s inside her is faith in God on high, and her shell is depression. Depression is what always tries to drag her down to hell. If it weren’t for that illness, her life would have been different. Beware of depression as of the plague.”

But there are also days of laughter and drunken pleasures. “Isn’t it true that Mariana is still young and beautiful?” she would say.

“Very true.”

“If we get to a safe place, I’ll take care of myself, and all my beauty will be yours.”

“Thank you,” says Hugo, because he can find no other words.

“We’re like a pair of birds. Did you ever see a bird thank another bird? They hop from branch to branch, pleased with each other, and when evening comes, they fall asleep from having chattered so much.”

“Too bad the water in the stream is so cold,” she says at one point. “We could go into the stream and swim like two fish. When I was a little girl, I used to swim in the river. Since then I haven’t. I have a strong desire to swim. It seems to me that swimming would ease my depression. When a person swims and comes out of the water, he immediately walks erect. His eyes see splendid colors. Am I wrong?” Hugo loves that sudden wonderment. At such times he feels she is connected to mysterious forces within her. Her expression changes, and she is under influences that are not her own.

“It’s wrong that people kill animals and eat them,” she says after a while. “That’s a disreputable trait. Animals are so much like us that the killing of them cries out to heaven. Papa, of blessed memory, would slaughter a pig before every Easter. The memory of it gives me chills to this day. When I was young I swore in my heart that I wouldn’t eat meat. Of course I didn’t keep that oath.”

“Our family is vegetarian.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Just fruit and vegetables and dairy products.”

“I always said the Jews are more sensitive. But what good did their sensitivity do them? They were persecuted even more cruelly. Don’t ever forget that the members of your tribe were cruelly killed in the streets just because they were Jews.”

“I won’t forget.”

“The Germans drove them into the ghetto and sent them who knows where, just because they were Jews. God can’t bear injustice like that. He will bring a flood upon their persecutors. Don’t forget, you mustn’t pass over injustice in silence.”

But there are also days of total silence. Mariana would sit down, sunk in her thoughts, and Hugo would keep drilling into himself:
I must plant every detail of this journey in my memory
. When Mariana is deep in thought, a strange light appears on her face, her forehead expands, and her hair stands up on her head. Sometimes it seems to Hugo that her lovely being is being eaten away by her dejection. But, not to worry, when she is once again filled with wonder, her face lights up with beauty.

“Forget my sadness and irritation and remember only the light that was between us,” she says to him distractedly.

A peasant woman sells them a few eggs and a jar of cream, and they sit down on the ground to eat. After the meal, Mariana says to Hugo, “Of all the people who were with me, only you are mine.”

“You’re very beautiful.” He can’t restrain himself.

“I’m very glad that I please you. A woman without an admirer is a sealed well. Life is stifled in her, and her beauty withers. Now, thank the Lord, I’m far from all those who tormented me. Now I’m my own woman, and I am only with you.”

“I don’t mind sleeping outdoors. I can make campfires and they’ll warm us up.”

“That’s very nice of you, but don’t forget, it rains in the spring, and sometimes very hard.”

“I can build us a temporary shelter.”

They sit and talk that way until they run out of words, and then they lie down together and fall asleep.

60

What Mariana guessed would happen finally happens, but a bit differently from how she had imagined it. While they are sitting under an oak, drinking tea and contemplating the fire, three short men suddenly appear. They are dressed in old leather coats. “Get up, woman, and come with us,” one of them orders.

Mariana is stunned. “Why?” she asks. “What did I do?”

“It’s an order,” he replies.

“I refuse to obey this illegal order.”

“Why be stubborn, woman?” He speaks in an intentionally relaxed way.

“I never did harm to anyone. Why should I go with you?”

“You can make your arguments to the authorities. Meanwhile, get up and come with us.”

“I refuse to go. I have a son, and I have to watch over him.”

“I repeat what I said. Get up and come with us. The interrogation will be short, and afterward they’ll let you go. Why are you being stubborn? It’s not helping you.”

“Why?” She raises her head, as though she has just woken up.

“There’s no why. This is an order.”

“What is my name, if you’ve been sent to get me?” She musters her courage and cunning.

“Mariana Podgorsky,” he answers, and shows her the piece of cardboard in his hand.

“I won’t go. Evil tongues must be answered with contempt.”

Even to that the man responds with moderation and says, “If I were in your place, I wouldn’t be stubborn.”

“But I am being stubborn.”

“If so,” says the man, and he pulls a pistol from his belt, “we’ll have no choice but to shoot you. Our order is to bring you in alive or to kill you. It would be easier to kill you and put an end to the whole business.”

Hugo sees the three men up close. They are short, sturdy, and indifferent. He wants to approach them and beg for Mariana’s life, but he is so frightened that the words freeze in his mouth.

The pistol and the coldness that accompany the man’s last words apparently convince Mariana, and she rises to her feet.

Now it’s clear—she’s a head taller than they are.

“Walk, and we’ll follow you,” he says without raising his voice.

Hugo and Mariana start walking. The men don’t hurry them. After a few minutes of walking, without turning her head back to them, Mariana asks, “Why do you need me? I’ll thank you if you tell me the truth.”

“You have nothing to be afraid of. The Russians aren’t like the Germans. With the Russians, nothing is arbitrary. Every innocent person will be freed. You’ll be freed, too. After all, you didn’t kill anyone.”

“I didn’t commit any crime, and I didn’t murder.” She clings to those words.

“You have nothing to fear.” He continues talking in a moderate
tone of voice. “They’ll investigate and examine, and in the end they’ll let you go. You need some patience, that’s all.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the headquarters.”

“They’ve hardly arrived, and they’re investigating already.”

“A week has passed since the region was liberated. Now they’re checking into everything, and in a little while new life will begin.”

“Since my childhood, I’ve supported myself. No one helped me.” Mariana brings a new tone into the conversation.

Hugo feels as if he’s in a dream, constricted and bound. Even to reach out and take her hand, even that small gesture, is not within his power.

“Mariana,” he whispers.

“What, honey?”

“Where are we going?”

“You heard,” she says curtly.

It turns out they were very close to the city, and right near the river. Hugo remembers clearly the long walks he took with his father. Those were always times of contemplation, mindfulness, and love of nature. He had especially liked the summer walks. On Friday afternoons, on their way home, they would meet bearded Jews going to synagogue. Seeing those Jews, his father would fall silent. In answer to Hugo’s question as to whether those were the real Jews, his father would give a long reply that would confuse things more than it clarified them. Hugo remembers his father’s slight embarrassment and the silence that accompanied it.

“Are we going to walk through the city?” Mariana asks, again without turning to face them.

“The headquarters are located on the outskirts of the city. We’re not far from there.”

“Why don’t you let me go, brothers?” She addresses them without imploring.

“We’re on duty, and our duty won’t permit us to do things like that.”

“We’re brothers, we’re all Ukrainians and the children of Ukrainians,” Mariana says. “What if you tell them that you couldn’t find me?”

“We’ve already been looking for you for three days. We can’t come back empty-handed.”

“I’ll pay you double.”

“We’re Communists and believe in Comrade Stalin.”

“We’re Ukrainians and believe in God and Jesus His Messiah,” Mariana replies. “Leaders come and go, but God is eternal.” There is strength in her voice.

“Communism has done away with the old beliefs.” He isn’t swept away by what she says.

“I would be careful about defying God,” Mariana says. “God is in heaven, and He hears everything. On Judgment Day, we’ll all stand before Him.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“I have no pistol to threaten you. I wanted to remind you that Ukrainians didn’t lose their faith in God even in the dark days.”

“What do you want? We’re just on duty and doing what we’ve been told to do. If you have any complaints, raise them at headquarters. There they will clarify everything. There everything is in order. They’ll hear you out and free you.”

“I want to remind you that I’m a loyal daughter of our tribe. None of us is the height of perfection. I was in the underworld with the God of our fathers. I never abandoned Him, even for a moment.”

“In heaven you’ll be found innocent,” he says curtly.

“I hope that you’ll also find me innocent, if only for the sake of my son, who doesn’t have a living soul in the world.”

“Where’s his father?”

“God knows.”

“Tell them everything in headquarters. They’ll listen to you and let you go.”

“They’re Communists. They don’t believe in God. If I were in your place, I would let the woman go. How much are they paying you for me?”

“We’re Communists. We do everything because of our faith,” he says, rejecting her request.

They reach the outskirts of the city, and Hugo immediately recognizes the area. The place is full of poplars; they appear in every yard and on every sidewalk. His father had a Ukrainian childhood friend there, a man whom they would sometimes visit on their way home after a walk along the river.

All of a sudden shouts are heard, shouts that shatter their tranquility. At first they sound to Hugo like expressions of wonder or condolence, but soon it becomes clear that they are the sounds of fury before an attack. In no time at all they are showered with stones. Mariana hugs the suitcase, trying to protect her face. The guards grin. “The people have recognized you. How do they know you?” one of them asks, hoping to provoke her.

“They’ve gone crazy,” replies Mariana, as though it didn’t concern her.

They walk on in the green tranquility of spring. What happened to them a few minutes ago now seems like an unrelated outburst, and Mariana repeats her request. “Leave me be. Let me go home.”

“To what home?”

“My mother died. I’ll go to my sister’s.”

“Your sister won’t be happy to see you.”

“How do you know?”

“We spoke to her at length.”

“My sister is subject to moods.” Mariana tries to dismiss the unfavorable impression.

But when they emerge from a long, quiet alley, people once
again recognize Mariana and throw stones at her. This time the guards are quicker and they shout at the stone-throwers to stop. When that doesn’t work, they fire shots into the air. Then it stops immediately.