Aharon Appelfeld - Blooms of Darkness

Seriousness has clouded Victoria’s eyes, and it’s evident that she has more news, but she keeps it to herself.

“What should I do?”

“I’ve already told you, pray.”

“And if they discover me?”

“You’ll stand up and say you’re Mariana’s son.”

Not noticing what he’s doing, Hugo reaches for the knapsack and removes the Bible from it. In the middle of the book lies an envelope. He quickly opens it and reads:

Dear Hugo ,

I don’t know when and in what circumstances this letter will find you. I imagine that you’re not having an easy time. I want you to know that I had no choice. The peasants who promised to come, didn’t come, and danger was lurking in every corner. It was not with light thoughts that I decided to place you in the hands of my childhood friend Mariana. She is a good woman, but life has not been kind to her. She is prone to moods, and you have to be considerate of her. If she’s bitter or angry, don’t be annoyed with her and don’t answer anything. Restraint is always desirable. Moods have a way of passing. Also, suffering has a limit, and in the end, we’ll be together again. I think about you all the time. I hope that you have something to eat and that your sleep isn’t disturbed. As for me, I don’t know where I’ll end up. If only I can, I’ll visit you, but don’t expect me. I’m with you all the time, day and night, and if it’s hard for you, think about Papa and me. Your thoughts will join us together. You aren’t alone in the world, dear. Grandpa used to say that parting is an illusion. Thoughts join us even when we are far from one another. Recently I’ve felt that Grandpa is with us, too. He passed away two years before the war. You remember him .

I’m writing these lines about three hours before our departure. For a moment it seemed to me that I didn’t equip you with enough instructions. Now I see that in fact we’ve discussed everything. I imagine that adaptation isn’t easy for you. I have one request of you: don’t despair. Despair is surrender. I believed and still believe in optimism even in these dark hours. That’s how I am. You know me, and apparently I’ll stay like that .

I love you very much,

Mama

Hugo reads the letter again and again, and the two sheets of paper tremble in his hands. He loves his mother’s clear handwriting. Her world shines from every line: openness, clarity, cordiality, and a willingness to give. She believed that if a person gave, he would also receive, and if he didn’t receive, giving was its own reward and joy. More than once reality had slapped her in the face. Even then she hadn’t said that there is no way to reform people. Instead, she put her head down and absorbed the insult.

Now Hugo envisions the way she would tilt her head to listen. He sees how her arms would go limp when she was unable to help, and the joy she radiated when the medicine she had given was helpful.

He reads the two sheets again. The more he reads, the more he knows that his mother’s situation is worse than his. She bears a heavy knapsack on her back, struggles against harsh winds, and every time she falls to the ground, she calls out, Hugo, don’t despair. I’m on my way to you. I’m sure that soon the winds will weaken, the war will end, and I will overcome the obstacles strewn in my path. Don’t despair, promise me . Her face glows as it did on their way to Mariana’s house.

Later, Hugo takes the notebook out of his knapsack and writes:

Mama dear, the letter that you wrote to me only reached me today. I’ll carry out your request with great precision. Compared to you, my situation is better. I’m living in a closet in Mariana’s room. Mariana watches over me and takes care of my meals. Most of the day I think and imagine things. For that reason I didn’t yet start reading and writing, as I promised you. Everything that surrounds me is so intense, and sometimes shocking, that it’s hard for me to open a book and follow the plot. Sometimes it seems to me that I am living in a fairy tale. I expect that in the end things will be good .

Mariana’s mother died, and she went to her village, but don’t worry, the cook Victoria brings me my meals and tells me what’s happening on the outside. Your letter brought me many visions of light and much hope .

Take care of yourself,

Hugo

He places the notebook in the knapsack, and the tears that were locked in his eyes roll down his face.

Once again Victoria brings him horrible news. That night they caught more Jewish families. They were taken together with the people who hid them to the town square, where they were all lined up and executed, so that everyone would see and hear and not be tempted to hide Jews.

“What should I do?” Hugo asks cautiously.

“We’ll see.” Her answer comes quickly.

Saying nothing more, Victoria closes the door, and Hugo takes the notebook out of the knapsack and writes:

Dear Mama ,

I don’t want to hide the truth from you. For more than a week, soldiers have been going from house to house and making searches. Mariana is mourning for her mother in the village, and I have been placed in the hands of the cook, Victoria. Before, she was sure that they wouldn’t search here. Now fear has fallen upon her. I’m not afraid. I’m not saying that to calm you down. The months in hiding have blunted my feeling of fear. I live our life at home every day. The house, the pharmacy, and mainly you and Papa are with me from morning to night. When I’m cold or my sleep wanders, I see you with great clarity. Recently I saw our ski vacations in the mountains once again, and the feeling of soaring came back to me. Mama, the loneliness doesn’t hurt me because you taught me how to be by myself. I won’t conceal from you that from time to time a feeling of uncertainty attacks me, or despair, but those are passing moments. You equipped me with much belief in life. I’m so glad that you and Papa are my parents that sometimes I want to break down the door of the hiding place and run away to you .

I love you,

Hugo

The next day Victoria doesn’t appear. Hugo eats leftover sandwiches and listens constantly. Not a sound is heard from Mariana’s room. From the neighboring rooms the usual voices are heard: “Where is the pail?” or “Did you mop the room yet?” Several times Victoria’s voice is heard. It’s hard to know, with her voice, whether she’s conversing or arguing. In any event, there are no quarrels. Between one bit of talk and another, waves of laughter arise, flood the corridor, fall, and shatter.

Where am I? Hugo suddenly asks himself, as he sometimes does in his dreams. He already sensed the secret that surrounded this place during the first weeks after his arrival, but now, perhaps because of dour Victoria, it seems like a prison to him. Every time he asks Mariana about it, she evades the question and says, “Let that foulness be. It would be a shame to dirty your thoughts.”

Hugo very much wants to take out the notebook and write about everything that’s happening to him, and about his thoughts. But fear and excitement prevent him from doing that. All morning long he sees Mariana’s face, and it is darkened by grief. She is muttering incomprehensible words, and from time to time she raises her head and calls out loud, “Forgive me, Jesus, for my many sins.”

Toward evening men’s voices can already be heard. First they sound familiar, but in a short time he catches a military tone of voice.

“Are there Jews here?” The question comes soon.

“There are no Jews. We work in the army’s service,” a woman answers in German.