Liliana Heker - Please Talk to Me - Selected Stories

Lucia closes the book and lays it down on the bed. She sighs.

‘It has nothing to do with my wanting it or not,’ she explains. ‘What I’m saying is that it simply doesn’t matter if Mom is here or there.’

‘What do you mean, there?’

‘Just there; anywhere; it’s all the same.’

‘Why the same?’

Lucia rests her chin on both her hands and stares gravely at Mariana.

‘Listen, Mariana,’ she says. ‘I’ve got something to tell you. Mom doesn’t exist.’

Mariana jumps.

‘Don’t be stupid, okay?’ she says, trying to look calm. ‘You know Mom doesn’t like you saying stupid things like that.’

‘They’re not stupid things. Anyway, who cares what Mom says, if Mom doesn’t exist?’

‘Lu, I’m telling you for the last time: I-don’t-like-you-say-ing-stu-pid-things, okay?’

‘Look, Mariana,’ Lucia says in a tired tone of voice. ‘I’m not making it up; there’s a whole theory about it, a book.’

‘What does it say, the book?’

‘What I just said. That nothing really exists. That we imagine the world.’

‘ What do we imagine about the world?’

‘Everything.’

‘You just want to frighten me, Lucia. Books don’t say things like that. What does it say, eh? For real.’

‘I’ve told you a thousand times. The desk, see? There isn’t really a desk there, you just imagine there’s a desk. Understand? You, now, this very minute, imagine that you’re inside a room, sitting on the bed, talking to me, and you imagine that somewhere else, far away, is Mom. That’s why you want Mom to come back. But those places don’t really exist, there is no here or far away. It’s all inside your head. You are imagining it all.’

‘And you?’

‘I what?’

‘There’s you, see?’ Mariana says with sudden joy. ‘You can’t imagine the desk in the same exact place that I imagine it, can you?’

‘You’ve got it all wrong, Mariana sweetheart. You just don’t understand, as usual. It’s not that both of us imagine that the desk is in the same place: it’s that you imagine that both of us imagine that the desk is in the same place.’

‘No, no, no, no. You got it all wrong. Each of us doesn’t imagine things on our own, and one can’t guess what the other is imagining. You talk about what you imagine. I say to you: how many pictures are there in this room? And I say to myself: there are three pictures in this room. And at exactly the same time you tell me that there are three pictures in this room. That means that the three pictures are here, that we see them, not that we imagine them. Because two people can’t imagine the same thing at the same time.’

‘Two can’t, that’s true.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m saying that two people can’t.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

‘I’m saying that you are also imagining me , Mariana.’

‘You’re lying, you’re lying! You’re the biggest liar in the whole world! I hate you, Lucia. Don’t you see? If I’m imagining you, how come you know I’m imagining you?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t anything . You are just making me up, Mariana. You’ve made up a person called Lucia, who’s your sister, and who knows you’ve made her up. That’s all.’

‘No, come on, Lu. Say it’s not true. What about the book?’

‘What book?’

‘The book that talks about all this.’

‘That talks about what?’

‘About things not really existing.’

‘Ah, the book… The book is also imagined by you.’

‘That’s a lie, Lucia, a lie! I could never imagine a book like that. I never know about things like that, don’t you understand, Lu? I could never imagine something as complicated as that.’

‘But my poor Mariana, that book is nothing compared to the other things you’ve imagined. Think of History and the Law of Gravity and Maths and all the books ever written in the world and Aspirins and the telegraph and planes. Do you realize what you’ve done?’

‘No, Lucia, no, please. Everyone knows about those things. Look. If I bring a lot of people into this room, and I say when I count up to three, we all point to the radio at the same time, then you’ll see. We’ll all point in the same direction. Let’s play at that, Lu, please, come on; let’s play at pointing at things. Please.’

‘But are you stupid or what? I’m telling you that you are the one who’s imagining all the people in the world.’

‘I don’t believe you. You say that just to frighten me. I can’t imagine all the people in the world. What about Mom? What about Dad?’

‘Them too.’

‘Then I’m all alone, Lu!’

‘Absolutely. All alone.’

‘That’s a lie, that’s a lie! Say that you’re lying! You’re just saying that to frighten me, right? Sure. Because everything’s here. The beds, the desk, the chairs. I can see them, I can touch them if I want to. Say yes, Lu. So that everything’s like before.’

‘But why do you want me to say yes, if anyway it will be you imagining that I am saying yes?’

‘Always me? So there’s no one but me in the world?’

‘Right.’

‘And you?’

‘As I said, you’re imagining me.’

‘I don’t want to imagine any more, Lu. I’m afraid. I’m really frightened, Lu. How much longer till Mom comes home?’

Mariana leans out of the window. Mom, come back soon, she begs. But she no longer knows to whom she’s begging, or why. She shuts her eyes and the world disappears; she opens them, and it appears again. Everything, everything, everything. If she can’t think about her mother, she won’t have a mother any more. And if she can’t think about the sky, the sky… And dogs and clouds and God. Too many things to think about all at once, all on her own. And why she, alone? Why she alone in the universe? When you know about it, it’s so difficult. Suddenly she might forget about the sun or her house or Lucia. Or worse, she might remember Lucia, but a mad Lucia coming to kill her with a gun in her hand. And now she realizes at last how dangerous all this is. Because if she can’t stop herself thinking about it, then Lucia will really be like that, crazy, and kill her. And then there won’t be anyone left to imagine all those things. The trees will disappear and the desk and thunderstorms. The colour red will disappear and all the countries in the world. And the blue sky and the sky at night and the sparrows and the lions in Africa and the earth itself and singing songs. And no one will ever know that, once, a girl called Mariana invented a very complicated place to which she gave the name of Universe.

When will night be over? Tomorrow all this will seem so foolish. All I need is morning when he will come and wake me, though God knows if I’ll be able to sleep through the night. Just like any other child in the world, isn’t he? Jumps out of bed as soon as his eyes are open and comes running very fast, otherwise maybe Mother will have gotten up already and we’ll miss the best part of the day. Only at night can one believe something so monstrous; only at night, and I feel sick imagining him now, jumping on my stomach and singing Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop, let your hooves go clippety-clop; just a little longer, Mommy. And how can one refuse, Just a little longer, Mommy, when he’s playing; who would have the courage to say no, after he looks at you, with longing in his eyes. No, that’s enough, Daniel; it’s very late. It’s enough because tonight your mother felt filthy, once and for all, and now she knows that she’ll never be able to kiss you like before, tuck you into bed, let you climb up onto her knees whenever you like; from now on it’s not right to demand that mother look after you alone and speak only to you, tell you stories and nibble your nose, and tickle you so much you laugh like crazy, and we both laugh with your funny somersaults. He does them carefully, the imp, so you won’t take your eyes off him, and then you forget the rest of the world.