Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

Then I gave him the scalpel. Told him. What he had to do. Left him alone.

It occurred to me in the kitchen that it wouldn’t be bad to stay a spell … if only for the sake of my tongue, on my last two stops I’d lost the habit of speaking normally … and some of my expressions weren’t at all appropriate around the girls … I felt for Montague, but maybe because of what I’d just been through … I was at peace inside, like fatalism or somethin … the daughters leaned over the fire, roasting a lamb … I felt a stab in my heart, Černá, where are you, I couldn’t stand the way one of the girls moved as she arched her back, carrying a pot, I got up … Montague escorted me out through the corridors, it’d floored him when he first heard, but now he was calm … he’d been through more than enough for his age, and knew the things of the box, he’d been able to answer the ancient question on his own … he locked the door behind me.

Again I was leaving somewhere … but not clearing out hastily, fleeing madly, slinking off in a fever … walking, with the city in front of me. Even fingered … my clothing a little, I was walking without Madonna, and I hissed through my teeth, I’m goin to see Černá, I’m comin to see you, my sweet … because if you’re dead, then I’ll make it through my time here without you somehow … dreaming of a woman … and we’ll meet afterwards, in eternity. It’s the only way. Walking, neither avoiding people, nor feeling the need to crash into them, walking … and then I saw the stone.

It spoke to me. Not that I heard anything, no talking stone. None a that mysticism. It just captivated me. A cornerstone, the kind they used to give buildings so the carriage wheels wouldn’t bang up the plaster. That stone was somewhere in my memory, something was going on … and then I glanced up, I was on that street. The street above the German Embassy, I was back at the beginning, from here it stretched uphill … it was after a rain, the air was cool … I saw roofs and house signs, there was the lion, I’d aimed here without even knowing it … I felt my hands and throat and breath again … and raised those hands … to clasp them … and then something hit me on the back, like wing-stirred air, I fell, and flew a while, and for an instant felt my skull, the bones, the walls of the depths, the bony walls of my world, and I fell on the stone headfirst. It hurt, and then it went dark.

I was coming to … I heard ringing … maybe the bells again, crowding into my mind … and then I opened my eyes and saw a woman’s face. It was beautiful, I wanted to speak but couldn’t move my tongue, I couldn’t move … honey, I dredged out … and then focused, no, it wasn’t Černá. It was a gentle face, viewing me from up close with concern, a girl with some kind of veil or hood over her head … the room was dim, I could feel her touching my hand, and it was bliss … she was close, I noticed that she didn’t have even a smidgen of makeup on …

Thank God you’re recovering, she said. And walked out.

It was a nun.

I was in a small room, whitewashed, over my head hung a crucifix. The sheet was stretched tight, and the blanket, no, a down comforter, it had been years … smelled good, I caught a whiff of old lavender, none of that new stuff made outta monkey guts … I couldn’t move though.

I didn’t wake again till the middle of the night, and there on the wall … where before there’d been nothing, I spotted another face … a woman’s, also in a hood, a veil, her eyes were smiling … on her face she had a scar though, some saint, I thought, and felt … guilty, maybe I’m in some convent, it occurred to me as I looked at her … because, I admit, that face was sexy … turned me on, but in a friendly way, not like one of those wrestling matches with stuff sprayin right an left … I studied the face, she was an ambitious woman, I think, there was something burning inside her, she was strong. And then I closed my eyes, and suddenly I hear … little brother, hey … get up outta that fuckin … deathbed … it was her, that raspy voice … I hear you unmistakably, Černá, that means you’re alive, no Saint ever talked like that, do you think about me, Černá … at least sometimes … and I waited, tense and ready, but I couldn’t move … and nothing else happened and I fell asleep.

Yeah, Bog knows I’m recovering, I thought … Sister Maria Coseta came to see me every day. At first I was a nervous wreck, I knew whose bride she was … but she knew how to talk to me. She was younger than me. Yes, definitely there’s a lot more people younger than me around. Than at the beginning of my story. I’m aware of that. That’s the way it goes in ordinary time.

As time passed … it struck me that she enjoyed coming to see me, and I said so. She told me the story of her order … the Silent Sisters of the Divine Child. Its members swore an oath of silence.

That’s why I like visiting you so much, said Sister Maria. To chat. And you’ve been so many places. How’s the head?

Doesn’t hurt at all now. I’ve only traveled around Bohemia, but maybe that’s not what you mean. Anyway, you never told me how I wound up here. This is total salvation for me.

You mustn’t speak of salvation that way. They found you on the street, not far from here.

But I mean you can’t go puttin up every stiff … pardon me, Sister, every needy person … you find.

You know why we took you in? Perhaps I shouldn’t, but … she took a step toward me … undo your pajama top, yes, there … she touched me with her finger, and all I wanted was for that hand to stay there, she must’ve been able to tell … she quick drew back her finger … we eyed each other … how long’ve you been in the order?

Over a year now.

Sometimes I could sense in her … not exactly the street or the bar … but we had something in common. I didn’t like that idea at all. My … friend was alive, she knew how to move. I think she knew how to be pretty fast. That chamber of mine was full of her. And the life she gave off, it was like even her skin was breathing … it was probably the best medicine I could’ve had. I told her she was rescuing me with every move she made. She laughed. But one day she said: That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re all here.

Since I couldn’t read yet, she would read to me. Her voice was bright and clear. Sometimes when she was speaking, formally and properly, an ending would drop off. Sometimes she would swallow conjunctions. Every now and then she would laugh from her throat, a laugh that didn’t seem to go with the silent corridors around me. Sometimes it was like she was telling me old things beneath the words. Her eyes gave off flashes and mist.

If a nun, God forbid, put on makeup, she’d look the same as a waitress, I theorized pointlessly. And the other way around. Sister Maria was the only one I saw, maybe that’s why I was so preoccupied with her. I tried to lower my chin to my chest so I could see the spot where she’d touched me, gently, like silk … and then I saw it and threw up on my pillow. I looked again and again, until my neck was sore. There was the Madonna. My Black Madonna, tiny as the medallion, in all her beauty, in the pain of her scar. She who weeps eternal. It didn’t look like a tattoo … you’d think a tattoo would embarrass a nun, but Sister Maria told me she liked the dragon very much … the Madonna looked like it was seared into my skin, or maybe like an engraving … right above the dragon! … I was very happy to have her there. So they took me in because of that?

We had both gotten into the habit of referring to the order as they, Maria was a novice.

I suppose so. I don’t know too much about it though.

Are there a lot of sick people here?