When the Night (18 page)

“How is that possible? You lived together for many years.”

She answers me with an exalted expression. “Bianca thinks I left because of that time he hit me.”

“He hit you?”

So you too have things to hide, Manfred.

“After one of our arguments. But that’s not the only reason. I left because of the way he looked at me when I was holding the baby, when I was with her. It scared me. That look on his face … I couldn’t stand it. I would provoke him, so the ugliness would come out; I already knew what he thought of her, and of me.”

“Of the child?”

“Yes, her too. He thought we had betrayed him.”

I saw her sitting there, in this new house, reflecting on the past: the arguments, the misunderstandings. The children are sleeping, some nights she longs for her husband, but the vessel is broken. She runs a finger under her moist eye.

“Manfred is not completely wrong—after all, in a way I did take him for a ride.”

“Why do you say that? We all change.”

She gets up, takes the cup to the sink. Now she is at home, and I am the guest.

“The first few years I really believed in all of it, and I wanted him so much I would have done anything to have him. I went hiking up in the mountain, and he taught me many things. I wanted him; the rest didn’t matter. I still want him, but I don’t think I’m up to …” she pauses, “… to being carved out of wood.”

I peer at her without understanding.

“Have you ever been downstairs? The only thing he has kept is a sculpture he had made when we were engaged, of our faces carved out of the same piece of wood. He keeps it by the fireplace.”

“He’s crazy!”

She smiles. This time she is really amused. “A little, yes. I should go.”

I get up, follow her. She stops at the door and says, “Who knows what will happen now, after the accident. Maybe he’ll need me.”

The idea that they might get together because of his infirmity irritates me. “Do you really think people can change?” I ask.

“You said it yourself.”

I’m mumbling. “Yes, but Manfred is very rigid.”

She is wearing the same inquisitive look as when she arrived. “When are you leaving us?”

“Me? At the end of the week. My husband is coming for me. Why?”

“Manfred asked if you could come and visit him before leaving.” As she says this, she looks me squarely in the eye. I blush. Luckily the entryway is dark. “You can leave the child with me; there’s a garden at the hospital.”

“Yes, I know, I was there.”

I CAN’T STAND it. All of them standing around me, smiling sweetly.

“Do you want a glass of water? Does the wound hurt? Is the catheter all right?”

I wish they would get out of here and leave me alone. They make small talk. Luna talks about the kids.

“They want to know how you are.”

Bullshit. Children don’t want to hear about sick parents, or absent ones for that matter.

Albert and Stefan try to tell me where to live. They want to hire a male nurse to take care of me.

“Why don’t you go and stay with Dad? He’ll be happy, and it will be easier to find a nurse in the city.”

I wave my hands, making clear signs that everyone can understand.

Quiet! I don’t want to hear it!

As soon as they forget about me I’ll go home and find a woman to come help. Maybe she’ll be young and willing, that way I can solve two problems at once. I’ll need someone.

After the operation, the doctor came into the room. He asked everyone to leave, and explained the situation. It was the same doctor from when Clara broke her arm. A straight shooter.

“Manfred, you have a fracture between your thoracic spine and your lumbar spine, but luckily the spinal medulla is intact. We’ve done what we can, and we’ll see how bad the damage is over time.”

My brothers don’t come anymore, nor does my father. As soon as I could talk, I told them I didn’t want visits. My throat hurt, it was hard to speak, but I wanted to make certain things clear.

“I won’t come up to the lodge, but I don’t want to see you here either. I don’t need anyone.”

They come to the hospital anyway, but they stay downstairs and talk among themselves, and then ask Luna how I’m doing. It’s harder to send her away, though I’ve tried.

“Go on vacation with the kids. I don’t need you.”

As soon as I said it, she started to cry. It’s tiring to lie still on the bed and watch her cry. She never used to cry, and she would swallow her tears whenever we had a fight.

“I don’t want to lose you, Manfred. I realize it now, after being apart.”

I try to convince her, but it’s hard to argue when you’re lying down.

“You didn’t even want to come here with the kids.”

“I was afraid to see you. These nights since I’ve been home with the kids, I’ve realized how much I missed you, and how much you’ve missed me as well.”

She’s wrong. All I wanted was her body. I don’t tell her, or she’ll start to cry again.

“Stop that. Help me change.”

I take off my glasses, that way I can’t see her. She brought them to the hospital, as well as clean underwear every day, and sweets I don’t eat. She changes me and combs my hair, like a child. She dominates me. Her hands rub soap on my skin, and I enjoy it, it’s pleasant, but I don’t want her. Better than a stranger, of course, and maybe with time the desire might come back. And that way I would have the kids near me.

They came to see me the other day. Clara gave me a kiss, but not Simon. Luna encouraged him, but he just stared at me. I told her to stop.

“Leave him alone.”

I could have Simon and Clara back, bug them, watch them grow, take them up the mountain. But there would be fights, and rage, like before. I don’t know if I could handle it. She rolls me over and whispers to me.

“If it’s true that you don’t miss me, then why did you keep the sculpture?”

I was waiting for winter to burn it in the fireplace.

If I weren’t injured and she didn’t cry at the slightest excuse, that would have been my answer.

But instead I say nothing; it’s not worth it. I want to feel better. The pain medication helps until lunchtime, but then the pain returns, and they can’t give me too much.

“When is she coming?”

“She’s here. Wait, I’ll go down.”

That’s right, I need to see her alone. But how does Luna know?

She puts me in a reclining position and whispers, “She’s leaving the boy with me, that way she can come up by herself.”

Our thoughts still hear each other; when you’ve been married for a long time, it happens.

She’s here. She’ll see what I’ve prepared for her. She thinks I’m out of the way, that she’s free now. No one can put one over on Manfred.

Luna finishes cleaning me and makes the bed. She’s good at putting things in order. She puts my hands on the sheet, but I stop her.

“I’m not dead yet.”

“Manfred!”

I’ve always enjoyed frightening her. I put on my glasses. She picks up the dirty laundry. In the doorway she turns around.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, ask her to come up.”

She stares at me. “Are you attracted to her, Manfred?”

I pretend not to react. Before she left, when we no longer had sex and I wandered off to get laid wherever I could, she always knew, as soon as I came in the door.

“She saved my life. Don’t you think I need to thank her?”

“Don’t get upset, it’s not good for you.”

It didn’t take much to convince her, even before. Typical Luna. She never really wanted to get to the bottom of things.

The white door is closed. She sees me in my glasses, and thinks of the drawing on the wall. Who cares; I know how to intimidate her. I’m thinking of Marco, after all. But no, I shouldn’t pretend, it’s her. What a show she put on at the lodge; she washed her hair and danced with Stefan while the boy looked for her, and then she tossed out, “Didn’t your mother leave you?”

I’m filled with rage, I’d like to strangle her, but I don’t have the strength. I have to calibrate carefully what I can do and say, so she’ll be scared. She’ll try to light a fire and then change the subject, talk about the drawing on the wall or my current state. That’s when I want to kill her. I mustn’t let her lead me by the nose. I have a different game to play. Silence, a few words, a look; I’ll wait in silence, and she will be devoured by curiosity and fear. She wants to know who you are, but you never tell her the whole truth, you don’t put yourself in her hands, you’re always one step ahead, like that day on the mountain. You carried off her boy and made her sweat. You may not have the strength in your body, but in your mind, yes. Come, Marina, I’m waiting for you.

I KNOW THESE benches; I recognize them from the other time we came. They were empty then, it was nighttime, and I was carrying my baby in my arms. Now there are patients in hospital gowns, sitting or walking in the park. Everything seems to end up here, at this hospital.

Luna tries to keep Marco with her, but he fusses. He starts to cry.

“I want my mamma.”

“I’m going to see Manfred, darling. I’ll be back in a minute. I told you, he fell.”

Luna pulls out a bag of candy and whispers, “I’ll give you all the candies you want; we won’t tell Mamma.”

He looks at me, smiles slyly, and accepts the deal. They walk away together. Children are terribly malleable; they believe anything we tell them.

I push open the glass doors.

THE MORNING AFTER giving birth, they brought the baby to me so I could breast-feed him. I didn’t know yet that I didn’t have milk. My mother, Mario, and his relatives hadn’t arrived yet. It was just the two of us.

I looked at him and felt an immense strength. I made him; one day, he will become a man. When I’m dead, this tiny thing will be a giant. I will help him grow. Then, for days, months, years, I forgot about that moment.

I GO UP the stairs to the second floor, Room 20. I’m afraid that I will be shocked by what I see. Luna says it’s not so bad.

“He’s all right; he doesn’t feel much pain. He can’t move, but he can speak. He’s not giving up, you know how he is.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

The hallway is empty and the door to his room is closed. My heart is pounding. Why? Marina, this man has been battling against you since the very first day, but no one, not a soul, knows you the way he does, or ever has. Be on your guard. If he wants to thank you, just say, “It was the least I could do.”

That’s it. Tomorrow Mario comes for you, and all this will be over. The fear, the desire, the beating of your heart. You mustn’t tell a soul, Marina, or even think it, because he’ll see it in your eyes; if he understands how much you desire him he’ll have you in the palm of his hand. Close your heart; be distant, strong, and cold.

THE WHITE DOOR opens. The same ice, on either side.

There she is. A beautiful woman, but not your type.

THAT’S HOW I like him: lying down, clean, wearing his glasses. Now what do I say?

“How are you?”

She uses the familiar
tu
, as I did that night, when I broke down the door.

“I could have died, but I’m still here.”

“Should I sit down?”

I nod. From the bed, she looks small and thin. I wonder how she sees me?

He looks like the boy in the drawing. Don’t feel sorry for him, Marina.

Don’t feel sorry for her, Manfred.

“I want to thank you for calling the police.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“Why?”

What should I say? “You know why.”

He smiles; I’m afraid of what he will say. I want to climb into the bed with you, Manfred. There’s no one around. We can hold each other close; we don’t need to talk.

“You mean because I brought Marco here that night?”

She nods. Now I’ll wait a moment, so she thinks she’s off the hook.

His rough hand lies forgotten on the sheet. Will it be strong again, as it was before? Otherwise, what was the use of calling the police? He stares at me with a serious air.

“From you.”

“From me what?”

“I saved him from you.”

If I run out of this room, who will stop me? Not he; he can’t move.

“I know that’s what you think. But it’s not true.”

“No?”

I feel tired, like when I was a little girl, when I got into trouble. You’re not free; the baby cries, you can’t take it. It’s hard for you; no one knows but him. And then one day the darkness returns, the silence, the icy cold.

Don’t say a word. She’s beginning to crack, just wait.

“What do you want from me, Manfred?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

I feel I’m about to cry. I can’t let him see me weaken.

“Do you want to take him away from me?”

“Should I?”

You’ve always known that you are different from other women, Marina. You don’t know how to be a mother. Just say it.

“Yes, I’ve known it ever since he was born. I love him, but it means nothing because at times I feel that I hate him. Sometimes I’d like to go away, give him away to the first person I see, but he only wants me, he waits for me and cries if he doesn’t see me.”

“All babies are like that.”

“Yes, but I can’t handle it. I try with all my might but I can’t do it. Suddenly I feel overwhelmed, but there’s no way out. When you have a child, it’s like that all the time. But I can forget about him at times, think of other things.”