Aharon Appelfeld - Until the Dawn's Light

But Blanca also had moments of dreadful mental clarity, and she knew that no garment could cover the shame, that no words would atone for her crime. That evening in the railroad station — God would not forgive her for it. To dull her hidden pains Blanca would work from morning till night, baking and cooking, but Adolf was not content. There were always faults: the potatoes were burned, the roast was dry, the vegetables weren’t properly seasoned. He spent the evenings with his friends in the tavern, and upon his return he would peel off her clothes, beat her, and mount her.

“Don’t hurt me,” she would plead. But her pleas would only make his fury burn hotter.

I’ll run away, she said to herself more than once, and no one will know where I’ve disappeared to. I’ll live among the bulrushes or on the edge of the hills. Better to live in the forest than to endure this shameful suffering . The desire would burn brightly within her, but fear would put it out. Her secret plans eventually shrank to something more reasonable. I’ll sneak away to Himmelburg and find out what has happened with the searches for my father. If I learn that he is living in the mountains, I’ll go to him, no matter what .

As the autumn rains pelted down in fury, Blanca hurriedly put on her raincoat and went to the railway station. By nine o’clock she was in Himmelburg. The familiar houses and the road to the old age home made her dizzy. For a moment she forgot why she had come, and she went into a café. The strong coffee refreshed her memory, and she recalled that she had been there three weeks earlier. It had been cold, but no rain was falling. The courtyard had been lit, and a motionless silence had filled it. She had spoken with the director and gone to the police, and when she had returned, Theresa had served her soup and summer squash quiche.

After sitting for an hour, Blanca gathered herself up and went to the old age home. She went in through the main entrance and headed for the corridor where her father had lain. When she reached his bed, she saw an unfamiliar old man in his place, his eyes sunk in dark sockets and his face hardened. What are you doing here? she was about to call out. This is my father’s bed. You can’t just grab a bed like that. If he comes back today, where will he sleep?

The director’s face was blank and inspired no hope. When Blanca asked whether there was any point in going back to the police, she replied, “My dear, what can I tell you? They do what they want. I bribe them, but it’s useless. God has died in their hearts.”

“Where did he disappear to?” Blanca suddenly asked, as though he had been gone for just a day.

“Who knows?” answered the director, alarmed by Blanca’s question.

Theresa was more open.

“They wait for seven days,” she said, “and if after seven days the person doesn’t return, that means he’ll never return, that he decided of his own free will to go to the world of truth. He had enough of the confusion and the lies and the suffering that disfigures us. I’ve been working here for twenty years. It’s never happened that someone has come back after a long absence.” Her voice had a grave and direct quality, like that of someone who has decided not to conceal the truth, even if it’s cruel.

Blanca drew near to her. “Have we lost all hope?”

“One mustn’t deceive people. I hate deceivers. Death isn’t as horrible as we imagine it to be.”

Blanca held out her hand, as though trying to cut her off, but Theresa wouldn’t stop.

“The next world is better,” she said, as she went to get Blanca a bowl of soup. “Believe me.”

“Thank you, but I have to return home,” said Blanca. “Adolf comes home at three thirty, sometimes even at three. If his meal isn’t ready, he’ll beat me.”

“Just don’t be afraid, my dear.”

“I’m not afraid anymore,” Blanca said, and hugged her.

“You mustn’t despair. We aren’t alone. There’s a God in heaven.”

“I know,” said Blanca, and she ran out to catch the noon train.

THAT VERY WEEK Blanca discovered she was pregnant. Fear seized her, and her body trembled. She didn’t tell Adolf a thing. Adolf kept on teaching her lessons, being angry with her and beating her. She would hold her breath and say to herself, If he knew I was pregnant, he would let up . She worked diligently in the house and in the garden. It seemed to her that if she worked hard and devotedly, she would placate him.

On Sundays his parents would come, and his brothers and sisters would cram into the house until there was no more room. The odor of beer would make her head spin, but Blanca tried to overcome that weakness as well. She would repeat to herself, Real life isn’t soft the way it was in my parents’ house, but thick and solid. Anyone who doesn’t understand that is laboring under a delusion . Now she tried to eat the way Adolf did, to sleep on her back the way he did, and to grow brown skin, but her body, to her misfortune, didn’t comply. Dizzy spells would attack her at times, and at night she would wake up and vomit. Finally, she told him she was pregnant.

“Pregnancy’s not a disease,” he responded.

“So why am I vomiting?”

“My sisters were pregnant, and they didn’t vomit.”

“Be merciful to me.” The words escaped from her lips.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I feel abandoned.”

“What are you talking about?”

Once a week she would sneak off to Himmelburg. Now it was her secret shelter. The director of the old age home had fallen ill meanwhile, and she lay in a narrow bed like one of the inmates. The welfare office of the Jewish community in Vienna promised to send a substitute director, but she was slow in arriving. From her sickbed, the director mumbled orders that could barely be understood. Theresa was now, in fact, the director. She fought with the cleaning women and with the suppliers, who threatened to sue the old age home for accumulated debts.

“Go ahead!” Theresa would say to them. “If they put the old people in prison, they’ll be better off. I’m prepared to go with them, too.” Blanca helped do laundry, clean the floors, and feed the weak residents. That exhausting work outside of her home brought her some relief, and every time she was able to escape, she did.

On one of her fleeting visits she told Theresa, “I’m pregnant.”

“Don’t expect any special treatment” was Theresa’s immediate reaction.

“He’ll keep beating me, even now?”

“He’ll keep on.”

“And what about the baby?”

“Protect it with both hands. That’s all you can do, no more.”

“Who would have thought?” said Blanca, covering her face with her hands.

One morning Adolf caught her at the train station buying a ticket at the window. Blanca froze on the spot and fainted. The people standing in line rushed to wash her face with water and call the medic. Adolf stood there like an oppressor, without taking his eyes off her. When she roused from her faint, he asked, “Where were you planning to go?”

“To Himmelburg.”

“What do you have there?”

“I wanted to look for my father.”

“Bitch,” he hissed.

She knew the end would be bitter, but where and when, she didn’t reckon. She felt heavy and shackled, as though in a nightmare, and with no way out. Everywhere she turned, the gate was shut in her face. Finally, having no other option, she spoke to her mother-in-law and begged for her mercy. Blanca’s mother-in-law didn’t like her. When she saw Blanca for the first time, she had fixed her with a hostile gaze, and that gaze had not changed over time. She regarded Blanca as a woman who was not engaged in life.