J. Coetzee - The Schooldays of Jesus

‘Davíd is not a special case. There is no such thing as a special case. He is not a special case, nor are you. No one is taken in by the show of craziness you put on, Dmitri, not for one minute. I hope you do get sent to the salt mines. That will put an end to your nonsense.’

‘Well spoken, Simón, well spoken! I love you for it. I could kiss you, only you wouldn’t like that, you not being a kissing man. Whereas your son here has always been ready to give old Dmitri a kiss, haven’t you, my boy?’

‘Dmitri, why did you make Ana Magdalena’s heart stop?’ asks the boy.

‘Good question! That’s what the doctors want to know most of all. It excites them, the thought of it — pressing a beautiful woman so tight in your arms that you stop her heart — only they are too ashamed to ask. They don’t dare to ask straight out, like you, no, they have to come at it in a roundabout way, like snakes. Did your mother love you? What did it taste like, your mother’s milk? Or that stupid judge: Who are you? Are you yourself?

‘Why did I stop her heart? I’ll tell you. We were together, she and I, when suddenly a thought came into my head — popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me. I thought: Why not put your hands around her throat while she is, you know, in the throes of it, and give her a bit of a throttle? Show her who is master. Show her what love is really like.

‘Killing the one you love: that is something that old Simón here will never understand. But you understand, don’t you? You understand Dmitri. From the first moment you understood.’

‘Wouldn’t she marry you?’

‘Marry me? No. Why would a lady like Ana Magdalena marry someone like me? I’m dirt, my boy. Old Simón is right. I’m dirt, and my dirt rubs off on everyone I touch. That’s why I must go to the salt mines, where everyone is dirt, where I will be at home. No, Ana Magdalena spurned me. I loved her, I worshipped her, I would have done anything for her, but she would have nothing to do with me, you saw it, everyone could see it. So I gave her a big surprise and stopped her heart. Taught her a lesson. Gave her something to think about.’

A silence falls. Then he, Simón, speaks. ‘You asked about your papers, the papers you wanted me to destroy.’

‘Yes. Why else would I take the trouble to leave my hospital home and come here? To find out about the papers, of course. Go on. Tell me. I trusted you and you broke that trust. Is that what you are going to say? Say it.’

‘I haven’t broken any trust. But I will say this. I have seen what was in the case, including you know what. Therefore I know that the story you tell me is not true. I won’t say any more. But I am not going to stand here meekly like a sheep and be lied to.’

Dmitri turns to the boy. ‘Do you have anything to eat, my boy? Dmitri is feeling a bit peckish.’

The boy jumps up, rummages in the cupboard, returns with a packet of biscuits.

‘Ginger snaps!’ says Dmitri. ‘Would you like a ginger snap, Simón? No? What about you, Davíd?’

The boy takes a biscuit from him and bites into it.

‘So it is public knowledge, is it?’ says Dmitri.

‘No, it is not public knowledge.’

‘But you are going to use it against me.’

‘Use what against you?’ asks the boy.

‘Never mind, my son. This is something between old Simón and me.’

‘It depends on what you mean by against . If you keep your promise and disappear into the salt mines for the rest of your life, then what we are referring to ceases to be of consequence, one way or the other.’

‘Don’t play logic games with me, Simón. You know and I know what against means. Why didn’t you do as you were told? Now look at the mess you are in.’

‘I? I am not the one in a mess, you are in a mess.’

‘No, Simón. Tomorrow or the next day or the one after that I will be free to go to the salt mines and pay my debt and clear my conscience, while you — you — will have to stay behind with this mess on your hands.’

‘What mess, Dmitri?’ asks the boy. ‘Why won’t you tell me?’

‘I’ll tell you what mess. Poor Dmitri! Did we really do him justice? Shouldn’t we have tried harder to save him, to turn him into a good citizen and a productive member of society? What must it be like for him, languishing in the salt mines while we live our easy lives in Estrella? Shouldn’t we have shown him a modicum of mercy? Shouldn’t we summon him back, saying, All is forgiven, Dmitri, you can have your old job back, and your uniform, and your pension, only you must say you are sorry, so that we can feel better inside? That’s the mess, my boy. Wallowing in excrement like a pig. Wallowing in your own shit. Why didn’t you just do what I told you, Simón, instead of getting sucked into this stupid charade of saving me from myself? Send him to the doctors, tell them to screw off the old head and screw on a new one. And the pills they give you! It’s worse than the salt mines, being in the mad ward! Just getting through twenty-four hours is like wading through mud. Tick tock tick tock. I can’t wait to start living again.’

He, Simón, has reached the end of his tether. ‘That’s enough, Dmitri. Please leave now. Leave at once, or I will call the police.’

‘Oh, so it’s goodbye, is it? And what about you, Davíd? Are you going to say goodbye to Dmitri too? Goodbye — see you in the next life . Is that how it is going to be? I thought we had an understanding, you and I. Has old Simón been working on you, shaking your confidence in me? He’s a bad man, how can you love such a bad man? Who ever stopped loving a person because he was bad? I did my worst to Ana Magdalena, yet she never stopped loving me. She hated me, maybe, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love me. Love and hate: you can’t have the one without the other. Like salt and pepper. Like black and white. That’s what people forget. She loved me and she hated me, like any normal person. Like Simón here. Do you think Simón loves you all the time? Of course he doesn’t. He loves you and he hates you, it’s all mixed up inside him, only he won’t tell you. No, he keeps it secret, pretends it’s all nice and placid inside him, no waves, no ripples. Like the way he talks, our famous man of reason. But believe me, old Simón here is as much of a mess inside as you or I. In fact, more of a mess. Because at least I don’t pretend to be what I am not. This is how I am , I say, and this is how I talk, all mixed up . Are you listening, my boy? Catch my words while you can, because Simón here wants to drive me away, out of your life. Listen hard. When you listen to me, you listen to the truth, and what do we want, finally, but the truth?’

‘But when you see Ana Magdalena in the next life, you won’t make her heart stop again, will you?’

‘I don’t know, my boy. Maybe there won’t be a next life — not for me, not for any of us. Maybe the sun will suddenly loom large in the sky and engulf us, and that will be the end of us all. No more Dmitri. No more Davíd. Just a big ball of fire. That’s how I see things, sometimes. That’s my vision.’

‘And then?’

‘And then nothing. Lots of flames, then lots of silence.’

‘But is it true?’

‘True? Who is to say? It’s all in the future, and the future is a mystery. What do you think?’

‘I think it’s not true. I think you are just saying so.’

‘Well, if you say it’s not true then it’s not true, because you, young Davíd, are Dmitri’s king, and your word is Dmitri’s command. But to get back to your question, no, I won’t do it again. The salt mines will cure me for good of my badness, my rages and my murderousness. They will knock all such nonsense out of me. So you needn’t fret, Ana Magdalena is safe.’