Aharon Appelfeld - Blooms of Darkness

“Don’t worry. They’ll come back to you,” she says in a soft voice.

“How do you know?” Hugo asks, and immediately knows that he shouldn’t have.

“Mine also went away from me, but now they’ve come back. Almost every night I see them in a dream.”

“Do they come to you from the other world?”

“That’s right. I’m happy to greet them.”

Kitty doesn’t probe too much. She tells him there are rumors that the war will be over soon. All the soldiers that were posted permanently in the city have been sent to the front.

“And they’re not hunting down Jews anymore?” Hugo inquires.

“There is a small unit that has stayed behind and is looking for Jews. They always find one or two, shackle their hands, and bring them through the city streets. They look very miserable. In a little while the war will be over and the nightmare will be finished.”

Hugo likes to hear Kitty’s voice. Even though she’s twenty-four, it reminds him of the voices of the girls in his school.

“And you’re really a Jew?” She surprises him again.

“Correct. Why are you asking?”

“You look like one of us, just like one of us.”

“I’m a Jew. It can’t be denied,” Hugo says, and chuckles.

Kitty looks at him fondly and says, “For years I dreamed I would have a brother like you, tall, with curly hair, and talking the way you talk.”

“I’m willing to be your brother.”

“Thanks,” she says, and blushes.

Every meeting with Kitty leaves a kind of pleasure in him and becomes part of his imagination. Once he dreams he is strolling next to a river with her, and suddenly Kitty announces that she is thinking of fleeing from The Residence and living in the country. She’s fed up with the fat guests. “If you want, we could go away together. I assume that you’re also fed up with life in the cage.”

“And what will I say to Mariana?”

“Tell Mariana that you’re fed up with the cage. You’re a boy like all the other boys. You didn’t sin or commit a crime, and you’re allowed to live outdoors.”

“Won’t the Germans hunt me down?”

“You’re my brother, and you look like me.” She laughs.

Hugo wakes up and finds Mariana sitting by his side.

“Give me a sip, honey. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I waited for you to wake up. You sleep very beautifully. It’s just a pleasure to watch you in your sleep. That’s how puppies sleep.”

“You should have woken me. You shouldn’t suffer too much,” Hugo says, and is surprised at himself.

“I wanted to know how long I could bear this torment.”

Hugo hands her the bottle. Mariana takes a long swig and immediately takes another.

“Take the bottle and hide it,” she says, and gets to her feet. “Let’s hope there won’t be any guests tonight. They’re getting fewer, thank God, but there are some who come back here and don’t forget to comment that my breath smells of brandy. I’m waiting desperately for the end of the war, and then we’ll be free. You’ll get out of the closet, and I’ll get out of The Residence. It’s better to hoe a cornfield than to be crushed night after night. My hero, why am I bothering your head? The day will come when you’ll say to yourself, Mariana was as crazy as a coot.”

The summer is dying. The fields that just yesterday were golden are now harvested, barren, and gloomy. The nights are cold, and Hugo covers himself under the sheepskins. Once a week Mariana washes him. That time is very pleasant, and it fills him with a secret feeling that stays within him all week long.

At night, when Mariana has no guests, she invites Hugo into her bed, hugs him, and says, “You’re Mariana’s. You’re her man. All men are bastards. Only you truly love her.”

When fortune favors him, he sleeps in her embrace the whole night. But on some nights an unexpected guest knocks on her door, and he must crouch down and creep into the closet. All the warm pleasure evaporates, as though it had never existed. Searing humiliation remains.

Between morning and evening light, Mariana is tormented. She lists her torments one by one. “The soldiers treat me like a mattress and make me do disgusting things. When I drank brandy, I could stand that humiliation, but without brandy, every limb of my body is despised and painful.” Hugo can’t grasp all of her feelings, but he sees the trembling of her hands. More than anything else, that tremor says, It’s impossible for me to bear all the men who follow one after the other. The time has come to flee, and it doesn’t matter where .

Hugo feels that he must save her. “I’ll run away with you,” he says. “We’ll live in the country, just you and I.”

“People will recognize me and beat me.” Mariana reverts to her old fears.

“We’ll run away to places where they won’t recognize us.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, as if he has the answer.

“My heart tells me that you need brandy. In the mountains, by ourselves and without threats, you’ll be able to drink as much as you want.”

“You understand Mariana, and you love her,” she says, and gives him a quick hug.

Every time Mariana decides to leave The Residence, something happens that holds her back. A few days ago Paula fainted and was sent to the hospital. Her situation got worse, and Madam refused to pay the hospital bills. For its part, the hospital threatened to transfer Paula to the poorhouse, where abandoned people quickly died. There was a general mobilization. Everybody talked about saving Paula as a holy deed. They collected money and jewelry, and there was a great moment of reconciliation. A specialist was called in, and he brought Paula back to life. Everybody celebrated her recovery with drinking and song. Madam threatened to fire all the revelers. Everybody was drunk and merry and had sealed their ears to her threats, but when Madam announced that she was going to police headquarters, they sobered up and stopped.

That very day Paula’s condition worsened, and she died that night. Gloom and helplessness fell upon The Residence, but there were no recriminations or calls for rebellion.

“Paula departed because we ignored her pain, and when we were roused, it was too late. People are no different from animals. They live only for themselves.” Mariana spoke with a cold objectivity that terrified Hugo.

Hugo notices that when Mariana speaks about God and about His Messiah, she forms her sentences in the negative: “God doesn’t love Mariana. If He loved her, He wouldn’t torture her. He would show her the true path.” Another frequent comment is: “Mariana deserves it. In all of her ways she is rebellious, as the priest says.” And another: “I didn’t know how to love my parents, as God commanded, and I became addicted to dubious pleasures. God sees everything and hears everything, and He punishes people for their actions. I bear a burden of shame. I haven’t yet gotten a tenth of what I deserve.”

Once he heard her say, “Jesus, take me to you. I’m fed up with this life.” But when a guest was good to her, when he gave her extra banknotes or a box of candy, she forgot her trials. She washed, made herself up, put on a colorful dress and high-heeled shoes, and stood up straight in the center of the room. “How do I look?” she would ask.

“You’re marvelous,” Hugo would say, to flatter her.

“It’s wrong to complain too much. Not everything is black,” she would say in moderate tones. When Mariana is content, Hugo also comes out of his shell, and his world expands.

When the last of the guests have left the room, Mariana stays in bed and sinks into a deep sleep. Sometimes she sleeps until twilight. Hugo is tortured by hunger, but he’s careful not to disturb her. When she wakes up, she hurries to bring him a hot meal, apologizing and scolding herself. “I neglected my heart’s beloved. I deserve a whipping.”