More: A Novel (10 page)

“Yes,” I said. “You were going to drown them, they’ll say! You were going to kill them all!”

I imagined I’d be imprisoned just for having been born! And since I couldn’t possibly have been more terrified, my pulse inadvertently began to slow. So had my pacing. In fact, since I wouldn’t be able to leave the cell no matter how fast I paced, it was most reasonable to just sit on the bench. I went over and sat. But then I began jogging my knees on tiptoe. Both knees jogged as if they were trying to drill into the ground. Eventually they too slowed and stopped. All that was left were me and my pulse.

That was the moment I said, “Fuck it! Fuck it! It’s for the best! You couldn’t get away, but look, you’re free now!” Yes, the wind inside my skull was starting to change direction. Different thoughts were filling its sails. It was really a miracle! All this! What I’d always wished for was happening. I’d be free of my father and those sickening immigrants forever. I’d never have to see any of their faces again. It was incredible! It was the rope ladder swinging down from a zeppelin to carry me into the sky! It wasn’t exactly the way I’d imagined it, but if I were to get away, it would be thanks to this cell. Then at some point, it occurred to me that I might be a sleepwalker. Had I in all probability gotten up one night and gone over to Ender’s to tell Yadigar everything because I’d desperately wanted us to be caught?

No, no, I was reading too many novels! It was what it was! I didn’t care the least how we’d been caught. What mattered was that being caught would absolve me of the horrible things I was to do! It really was divine intervention! If Yadigar had never shown up and I’d made it home … all the things I’d thought up! The things I’d planned! All that preparation! Those fantasies of ant farms! The things I was going to do to those people! How could I have been so mad! How? I really was saved! The Heroic Sergeant Uncle Yadigar, he really was a hero! He’d protected me from myself and prevented me from living the rest of my life in a pit of self-loathing! I’d stay in this cell as long as he liked! As long as he liked, no buts about it.

Then I’d go on trial and tell them everything. How Ahad forced me, and everything! I’d even say he’d threatened me. They’d believe me for sure. I’d say he beat me. Yes, it made a whole lot of sense. And it wasn’t lying. Fine, so he didn’t hit me as much as he used to, but he looked at me like he might at any moment. How I wished he’d given me a sound beating recently! It would really work in my favor to have a few bruises here and there! Or, say, a cigarette burn! He’d never done that, but in the paper I’d seen news of people doing that to their children, God knows how many times.

And in that enchanted moment, I remembered the pack of cigarettes and the lighter I had in my pocket. In my excitement I’d totally forgotten about them. Not being a full addict yet I hadn’t acquired the habit of lighting one every half hour, so it hadn’t occurred to me. How about some burns! On my arms, my legs … it would be awesome! The more Ahad denied it, the more the judge would be convinced!

“He puts out his cigarettes on me, uncle judge,” I’d say. Or should I say your honor? No, uncle was better. Definitely! “I don’t know why he does it, uncle judge. And with all the ashtrays we have!”

I was laughing now. It was all resolved. All had come to light and the subject was closed. I was every bit an inventor as Felat was! I wished there was a way I could reach him and tell him about my invention! I think Dordor and Harmin would have been proud! They’d run away from their father, and I was going to make sure mine would be in prison longer. Wasn’t that just another way of running away from one’s father?

“He made me do it all, uncle judge! I love my father really. But he always ordered me that I should treat people badly. In fact, once, there was this girl and he … I’m so ashamed … and he watched! He made me open the valve, on top of it! He would have made me drown them all. I stopped it. Don’t do it, Dad, I said, have pity. Just look at my arms! He smoked a pack a day, put out half of it on me. With all the ashtrays we had!”

Perfect! In a word, perfect!

“Ask my school, every year I get a letter of commendation. I get a commendation every semester! I’m expecting a really high score on the high school entrance exam as well. I just might make the top hundred! You never know. If you’d let me, I’ll enroll in the school I’m about to get into. I can board there! There’s burns on my legs as well. Can I show you?”

“No, son, that’s all right. It’s all clear,” the judge would say. “Your father is inhuman, it’s clear. Of course, son, wherever you want to go, please, go! But first we need to get those burns treated!”

“Thank you, uncle judge,” I’d say. “The burns are of no importance, I’m used to it!” And right then everyone in the courtroom would start crying, and maybe even applaud me for my courage. In their eyes I’d be an angel who’d made it in one piece from the devil’s house … and who was to say I wasn’t?

The cell no longer seemed as terrifying to me. I was grinning to myself. I even felt good enough to get up and examine the writing on the walls. The cigarette burns could wait. I could take care of it in a little while. I got up from the bench and began pensively strolling with my hands in my pockets, as if I were on a beach. Contemplating the walls. The first wall I got in close to had intermingling forms. I couldn’t quite make out what they were. But when I looked harder and traced the lines, I realized I was face-to-face with a prick. It was then that the cell’s magic reasserted itself, and the words that would elevate me to the highest step of my angelhood began to spill like confetti over my head.

“Lastly, uncle judge … I don’t quite know how to say this, but … I was ten … One day my father …”

“Don’t cry, child … calm down … Now tell me. Yes, your father?”

“My father did terrible things to me …”

“What terrible things?”

“First he began to touch me. Then he took off my pants and undressed me … then he held my … thing. He began to stroke it. He rubbed it on his face. He kissed it …”

At that point I wouldn’t merely walk, I’d absolutely fly out of that courtroom on a pair of wings! I wouldn’t even have to say the rest. But what if they wanted proof? How could I prove all this? It was four years ago. True, the fingerprints of that Lebanese guy were right behind my brow … but no one else could possibly see them but me. And there were no other marks on me. Of course, if I could shove something up myself and make it bleed a little … then … I could even say, “He did it yesterday!”

Gaza, what are you doing?

I’m trying to save my life, fucker!

Is that how you’re going to save your life?

It’s none of your business!

Use your head, is this how you’re going to save yourself?

Why don’t you come and save me then!

I’d come if you hadn’t killed me.

They’re sure to ask about you too! What am I going to say?

How’d they know about me?

What if they find you?

My corpse? Don’t be silly. Don’t you remember how your father buried me? Who’d ever find me in that forest?

That lavender sure smells good, doesn’t it?

Sorry, since I don’t have a nose …

So what am I supposed to do? How do I get out of this shit?

You curse too much … I think right now there’s not much you can do. So just stay calm and wait it out. Maybe Yadigar really has something to do and he’ll come pick you up once he takes care of it.

Cuma …

Yes?

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry. I’m fine. The lavender does smell nice, by the way.

Ever see my mother?

No.

Neither have I … You know what?

What?

She ran away from home the night she was going to give birth to me. She went to the graveyard in our town.

Why?

To get away from Ahad.

What’s that got to do with anything?

She was going to give birth to me, and then bury me … in the graveyard … and then run away.

Who told you this?

My father … he found my mother in her last moments. Before she buried me … she had lost a lot of blood … and then she died.

Your father was lying to you, Gaza. I don’t believe for a second that this could be true. It’s a story he made up so you’d feel indebted to him your entire life.

I think so too.

Don’t you ever believe it.

I already don’t …

And don’t try to put out cigarettes on yourself. Don’t you even think of it. It wouldn’t help anything.

But I’ve already done it, Cuma … look.

Throw away that cigarette! Throw it away at once!

I think all children should be born in graveyards and buried right away. It’d save them the trouble.

Gaza, you’ve destroyed your arm! Quit it, stop!

Then they’d all go to heaven. Just like you. They told Ender at Koran class you have the chance to repent until the last second. No matter what you did! Allah might always accept.

Gaza, listen to me! Throw away the cigarette!

But like, say, if you kill someone, he can’t repent. He wouldn’t have the time! He didn’t know he was going to die. Or I don’t know, it happens real fast. Say he was going to repent, right? Maybe Allah would accept him? I wish someone would kill me too … but real fast! Strike me in the back! So I wouldn’t have the chance to repent … and I could go to heaven … because if I were to repent now, it wouldn’t work, I know it … so I could only go to heaven if someone took away my chance to repent. Do you understand? I’m not that dumb. Not
that
dumb! I’ve got my own ways … Also you said yourself, you don’t have a nose, so how could you smell the lavender! Besides, I don’t really think you could ever go to heaven! Remember what you said to me? You said to go hurt those people! You said, that reservoir is your father’s mouth!

Gaza!

What!

I didn’t say those things.

Then who did?

What do you think?

Did I say them? Is that it?

You’re talking to yourself, Gaza.

So, I guess I’m talking to myself … Look at the state of my arms! Why don’t they hurt! Why don’t I feel anything? Why does it feel like they aren’t mine? Tell me! I guess these arms belong to someone else, don’t they?

Fine, Gaza, okay … those arms belong to someone else.

Who?

Your mother … they’re your mother’s arms. She dug the hole she was going to bury you in with those arms … all right? Are you happy? You got what you wanted. You’ve learned the truth. How do you feel now?

Same as always.

Which is?

Like my mother’s necklace with the angel.

I beg your pardon?

Like I’m around my mother’s neck, strangling her.

Are you serious?

I’m telling you I’m an angel made of gold. Of course I’m serious!

So why do you feel like that?

Because I didn’t kill my mother for vengeance. I killed her so I could survive. She wanted to bury me as soon as I was born. But I was born with such a vengeance I spilled all her blood! Isn’t that strange? That she died giving birth to the baby she was planning to kill … Of course, I’d have to be out of her belly in some way or other for her to be able to kill me. So I’d have to be alive, even if for a moment. Maybe she only wanted me to be alive in that moment. In wanting me to be born as soon as possible, she really wanted me to live. Maybe she didn’t even know it. But she wanted so badly to expel me from herself! To expel me and deliver me to life! And she got what she wanted. She got at least half of her wish to give life to her baby so she could kill him. I lived … If in being born, I hadn’t spilled so much of her blood and taken her life, she’d still have found a way to kill me for sure. Maybe she’d have strangled me with a plastic bag before I was even a month old, just like that Lebanese man. “It’s either me or him!” I said. Do you understand, Cuma? Either me or him! Like my father! Like all those who survived! Surely you have someone in your family who was like that. I bet it was thanks to him that you were born. Whoever it was that said, “It’s either me or him!” Don’t be upset … I know you’re in heaven … and I could have been there too, but it was not to be! I wish my mother could have buried me when I was a baby! When I was free of sin! It would have been as if she’d buried me right into heaven, wouldn’t it? But what can you do … if I can’t go to heaven when I’m dead, then I’ll go to heaven and die there! Come and let’s put some burns on my mother’s legs!

Two nights. I spent two nights in that cell. Without sleeping a wink. Its door opened four times. Four times I thought I’d leave. Each time I sprang to my feet and bolted to the door. Like the immigrants in the reservoir … four times I was wrong, because all they did was put a plate of food in front of me. A different soldier every time … I tried to ask questions. I tried to talk, to shout, to cry. But none of them listened. Like me in the reservoir … then the iron door opened a fifth time and this time I didn’t move an inch. I just raised my head. Yadigar stood in front of me. And so did my father …