Ioana Pârvulescu - Life Begins on Friday

Having come back from old man Cercel’s, Nicu wished with all his heart that his mother would be at home so that he could show her what he had bought her, but he found the house cold and empty. He lit the fire in the tin stove in the kitchen and the one inside the house, whose smoke had already begun to blacken the white-washed walls, and he placed the birdcage on the bed. The speckled creature within was calm, almost asleep.

‘Do you want to eat? Do you want to drink?’ asked Nicu and in his mind he heard Speckle say she wanted to sleep and that he should leave her in peace.

Nicu did not say anything else to her. He ate quickly and almost without chewing. Dr Margulis had advised him to always eat at the same hours and to chew thoroughly. But Nicu did exactly the opposite: he ate when he got home or whenever other people gave him food and he bolted it down, not wanting to waste time on chewing, like a sheep. The doctor was very good to him and always examined him lest he have some illness, and if he coughed he gave him pills and told him how to look after himself. Once, he made him inhale the steam from a pot of boiling salt water. Another time, he taught him to throw his head back and gargle. He made him practice using plain water first of all, and then gave him one of his syrups. When, after the death of his grandmother, Nicu found his mother in that state one hot July day, he ran straight to Strada Fântânei and the doctor, who was resting with the curtains drawn, immediately got up, put on his straw hat, had Nelu ready the carriage and went to the potters’ quarter at a gallop. The doctor saw to everything, he took Nicu’s mother to Dr Marinescu (Nicu did not even know how much it cost) and he took the lad to stay with Jacques for a while, where he was as if in heaven. But after that the doctor called him to the library one day and asked him man to man whether he wanted to take care of his mother, who would continue to have ‘lapses,’ and whether he felt capable of living alone with her. Nicu had said that he could manage and wanted to stay with her. Since then, the doctor had kept his eye on them, and not a week passed without him asking about ‘our patient’ and giving Nicu medical advice without taking the time to repeat it. Why did he do that?

A snowball struck the kitchen window. Nicu obeyed the call and went outside with his tinsel star, leaving Speckle asleep on the kitchen table. Now, besides having a mother, a collection of shrivelled chestnuts and a cow without an udder, he also had a living pigeon, which he was going to part with the following day. The other boys were waiting for him, and together they went carolling along the street. Apples and walnuts began to fill their cloth bags, and since Nicu did not have a bag of his own, he asked the choir leader, a tall boy with wavy long hair and a voice too hoarse for a chorister, to keep the goodies for him. When they came across Alexandru on the threshold, smoking a cigarette, they immediately surrounded him. He was bareheaded and the wind was ruffling his soft auburn hair. The repertoire of the five-boy choir was unvarying: Oh, Wonderful Tidings, Three Shepherds and a closing carol, which Nicu liked more thanks to the words than the tune, which was quite difficult.

Nicu thrilled in particular to the words ‘but there are hovels without a hearth’ and the rousing finale: ‘Romanians, do not forget to be good when thou art merry!’ on hearing which people immediately went inside to fetch goodies, and some even gave the boys pennies. It is good to remind people what they have to do; for some quite simply forget. Alexandru gave each of them money and sweets, and he ordered Toader to fetch treats from inside. Strangely, Toader was not in a good mood that evening and he went off grudgingly. The choir leader asked Alexandru for some cigarettes, and Alexandru obliged. Just as he was about to leave, Nicu quickly told him: ‘Miss Iulia sends word to you. Five o’clock, green and red! Green and red!’ and thereupon made himself scarce, before Alexandru had time to ask him anything, given that he knew absolutely nothing. He hoped that Alexandru would understand what was to be understood better than he did. He was aware that besides ‘five o’clock’ he ought to have specified a day, but since he had no idea, he left it hanging. On his return home he suffered another misfortune, like the ones that had lately been plaguing him: the choir leader did not want to part with Nicu’s share of the booty, and so he was left with only the coins he had managed to put in his pockets. So he crept home along his poorly lit alley, with terror in his heart lest on top of this he meet the Muzzle and be deprived of all the fruits of his labour, as had happened the previous year.

Speckle was asleep in the kitchen and his mother was inside the house, thank God. She had come back, but she was drunk again, and that meant she would have one of her turns. But Nicy went to bed and slept well anyway, because he had resolved a large number of things, Iulia’s letter in particular.

And the next day, as he was about to go to the Margulis’ house for lunch, taking Speckle, his heart broke at the thought of parting with her, of giving her away as a gift, just when he had found a peaceful companion in life, one bought with his own money. His friend would understand, thought Nicu, when he explained that Speckle did not want to come with him, that he had been unable to persuade the bird in any shape or form, although he had tried, and indeed, Jacques had said: ‘My dear-r, ther-re is no need for pr-resents between us. You know, I do not much like doves, I pr-refer-r seagulls! But unfor-rtunately nobody in Bucharrest r-rear-rs seagulls. Maybe I should make a business of it? Will you join me if need be?’

Nicu promised to help him and assured him he would bring him another present, a copy of Universul Ilustrat , the issue with the mammoths. And he had made another strange discovery: his cow loved money! When she found a coin in Nicu’s pocket she clasped it with her legs and it was hard to tear it away from her. (True, Nicu liked money too and did more or less the same thing.)

There was no trace of festivity in General Algiu’s house, where only a single lamp was lit, on the desk. His former colleagues from the Prefecture of Police, who maintained the warmest feelings toward him, had sent him, via a sub-lieutenant with smiling eyes, a small Christmas tree decorated with thick candles. The General surmised that the man who had had the idea for the gift could be none other than Costache. But it was still a bad idea, even if it had come from good friends and with good intentions. And so Ion Algiu forbade his adjutant to bring the tree into the house and it had remained leaning next to the front door, filling the hall with the scent of a mountain forest. At lunchtime, the General mounted his horse and went to the Bellu Cemetery. His adjutant, following behind, struggled with the Christmas tree, placing it, with regret, on the grave of Mrs Algiu, God rest her soul! The adjutant’s opinion was that the lady had no need of such things in the place where she now resided, a place of shade and verdure, which they themselves could have done with: the tree would have brightened up the salon, because for the last year they had been living like hermits and he had grown sick of such a life!

When they returned, also at a gallop, the adjutant strained to take off the General’s tall boots, which came off with difficulty since they were long and rigid. After he had polished them to a sheen and inserted boot trees, he was given the day off, to go where he pleased and celebrate as he saw fit. As for Algiu, he remained alone, with nothing but the philodendron by the window and his Borzoi dog, Lord, whose age was only a little greater than his master’s period of mourning. The General was touched at the thought that Lord had known his wife, as a small puppy, and had once lain on her bed of suffering. Being so young, the hound was playful and gambolled around his master, constantly provoking him. It gave him pleasure to stroke the long, white, silkily undulating hair, with the russet collar around his neck. The dark, elongated eyes regarded him with aristocratic pride and whenever he heard the slightest noise outside he pricked up his ears. However, the electric doorbell quite simply drove him out of his mind. The General almost regretted having had it installed. But the dog stubbornly refused to be trained and Algiu’s pride as a general was often affected when Lord was insubordinate, as he was now, for example, and refused to sit. It was a good job there were no witnesses.