Ismail Kadare - The Concert

She paused for a moment outside the apartment as if to muster her strength. Then she took her key out of her bag, and trying, heaven knows why, to make as little noise as possible, opened the door. In the hall she took her coat off and waited for Gjergj to come and ask where she’d got to. But a suspicious quiet reigned. What if he hadn’t come back? It vaguely occurred to her that he might still be there in the café with the girl, or lunching tête-à-tête with her in some restaurant. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She snatched the scarf from round her neck almost violently — it seemed to cling on — and propelled by fury at the possibility she’d just been considering, she burst into the kitchen. And there was Gjergj, standing by the French window that opened on to the balcony. She was so astonished she almost cried out, “You’re here!” He was smoking. The face he turned towards her, though it showed no surprise, wore a frown. What was he looking like that for? Perhaps he knew…Perhaps he’d seen her though the window of the café… And now…Attack was the best form of defence! All this flashed through Suva’s mind in less than a second. Then something made her look at Brikena, who was busy at the dresser: she wore the same sullen expression. The explanation must be worse than that, she thought, stunned. But what could it be? That he had indeed seen her and had no intention of defending himself, even by attacking her, but would calmly, cruelly, lethally tell her he loved someone else, and… and…that he’d told his daughter about it …so that she could choose between her father and mother…So there was something worse, much much worse (“Fondest fondest love”‘)…Perhaps…perhaps…(the word “separation” came into her mind with the harsh tearing sound of someone ripping a length of cloth). And all that had taken no more than another second…

“What on earth has happened?” she managed to stammer. Exactly what she had expected them to say to her .

Gjergj looked back at her fixedly. He too looked rather surprised, but his main expression was one of consternation. He seemed to be saying, “Never mind about us — what about you?” He glanced towards the sofa, and it was then that Silva realized there was someone else in the room. Sonia, her sister-in-law, was sitting on the sofa, white as a sheet and with tears streaming down her cheeks and even into her shoulder-length hair.

“Sonia!” said Silva, starting towards her. “What’s happened?”

Sonia’s brimming eyes seemed to have aged suddenly.

“Arian…” she murmured.

Silva nodded encouragingly.

Yes, but what, she wondered, half wanting to know and half too worn out to care. Had her brother had an accident? Committed suicide? For a moment she thought this might be the answer, but no — if so, Sonia would have stayed at home…

“What?” she repeated,

“Arrested,” sobbed Sonia.

“What!”

Silva turned first to Gjergj and then to Brikena, as if to ask them if she was in her right mind. Of all the possible misfortunes, this one had never occurred to her. What a day!

“When?” she asked, trying to keep calm,

“This morning at ten o’clock."

Just when she was laughing at Skënder Bermema’s comments at the exhibition, and while Gjergj…

He went on smoking, standing by the French window leading out on to the balcony, Brikena was now setting the table. The mere idea of eating struck Silva as barbarous. Bet as if she found some temporary respite in catching up with duties she’d thought she’d skipped, she started coming and going with unnatural assiduity between the table and the stove, where the meal had got cold and been heated up again several times.

“I don’t suppose you’ve had any lunch, Sonia?”

“I haven’t even thought about it!”

“Anyhow, sit down and eat something…”

“It was frightful!” Sonia groaned. “Fortunately Mother and the children weren’t in!”

“I was just going to ask you what had become of them,” said Silva.

“They don’t know anything about it. Aunt Urania had called for Mother to go and see some friend of theirs. The children were out.”

“They mustn’t know!” said Gjergj. “Tell them he’s been sent on a mission.”

“This is the last straw!” Silva exclaimed, “Come and have something to eat now, and well talk about it all later.”

She was about to start serving when she remembered the salad hadn’t been prepared. She asked Brikena to see to it, while she herself went to the refrigerator for the cheese, and something else out of a tin which she then replaced. She performed all these actions feverishly, her mind in a whirl. These plates wouldn’t do for taking food to a prisoner — you’re only allowed to use tinfoil containers…Snap out of it, she told herself, grabbing a handful of forks from the dresser.

Sonia was still weeping silently on the sofa.

“When they expelled him from the Party,” she said, “I thought that would be the end of it. Who would ever have thought things would go so far?”

“Don’t cry, Sonia,” said a voice Silva recognized as Gjergj’s.

She felt she hadn’t heard it for a long time…ever since…ever since the disaster. But this wasn’t the moment to think about that; it would be indecent.

“I’m not just saying it to console you,” Gjergj went on, “but I'm sure it’s only a misunderstanding. Besides, Sonia, being arrested when you’re in the army is not the same as if you’re a civilian. It’s not nearly so serious — not a catastrophe at all. Any soldier can be put under arrest for disobedience or some such offence, and afterwards go on just as before. It’s in the regulations — you must have heard about it… You’ve seen it happen in films, don’t you remember? Some triling misconduct, five days in clink, fall out!”

“Gjergj is right,” said Silva. “To be put under arrest in the army is nothing! When our colleagues at the ministry come back from reserve training they’re always full of stories about it. Arian has merely committed some minor offence for which army regulations prescribe arrest!”

“But they came to the house to arrest him!” cried Sonia, “And I don’t know if it was done according to the rules — I’ve never seen an arrest before. But it didn’t look like a disciplinary matter.”

“Did they have any authorization?”

“Yes, of course. They had a kind of warrant, and one of them showed it to me as well as to Arian. Not that I could read what was written on it, I was so upset. There was someone else with them — a member of the local committee of the Democratic Front.”

Gjergj and Silva exchanged a surreptitious glance. Sonia noticed it, but she still didn’t know whether the warrant and the member of the Democratic Front were good signs or bad.

Gjergj finally moved away from the French window, but to Silva he seemed to do so more rapidly than was natural, and this added to her uneasiness. He too started coming and going around the kitchen, helping to get the meal ready.

“Don’t worry, Sonia — I’m sure my explanation is right, Sit down and have something to eat,” he said, shifting chairs about noisily, “Brikena, where’s the pepper? Come along, Sonia…Why were you so late, by the way, Silva?” He sounded as if he wasn’t sure it was possible to say anything so ordinary here any more.

Silva stared at him for a moment.

“I’ll tell you later on,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Come on, Sonia — come and sit down.”

“I don’t want anything to eat! I couldn’t swallow a mouthful!”

“Don’t be silly,” said Silva. “I’m sure it’ll all be explained. We mustn’t give in. And don’t forget the family, Sonia…Most of them are senior Party members…It’s not as if we hadn’t any influence any more …”