Elvira Dones - Sworn Virgin

‘You’ve chosen a bad day to declare yourself.’

‘I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. And anyway I’m leaving in a few days.’

‘Leaving?’

‘They’ve transferred me … So?’ he insists. ‘Any answer?’

‘Give me some time,’ Hana says, amazed by her own words. ‘I have to think about it. Don’t get your hopes up though.’

The doctor says he doesn’t understand. If she asks for more time it means there must be hope, otherwise there would be no point. She stops him and says that’s the way it is, and that’s that. The truth is she doesn’t want to lose him. If she just said ‘no’ she would be burning her bridges, closing all the doors, letting the darkness in. This realization makes her feel terrible, because she’s not attracted to him, not one bit.

‘You must understand that I can’t wait long,’ he says. ‘I’ve been transferred and I’m finally going to be closer to home.’ Hana notices the stress he puts on the word ‘finally.’

‘So you’re going back to Tirana?’

‘I wish! No, I’m being sent to Kavajë. It’s much closer to Tirana and much better than here.’

‘So you’re free,’ she smiles bitterly. ‘You’re free.’

All at once he steps forward and kisses her on her forehead.

‘Free from what, Hana?’ he mutters, while she pulls away from him. ‘Free from where? We’re just like horses, going round and round in circles.’

They catch each other’s eyes for the first time. He has nice eyes, she’s never noticed before. She would like to tell him so, but senses she has missed her chance. Something in him shifts. The shared confidence about the concept of freedom has made him wary. He’s under control. He’s the doctor now.

‘It’s best not to talk about certain things, young lady,’ he whispers, ‘if you don’t want to get into trouble.’

‘Why? Aren’t I already in trouble?’

‘There’s a lot worse, and you know it.’

‘So now I’m “young lady,” am I?’

Hana turns away and takes a few steps. Life is strange. There are some things she’s never said before, never talked about, never thought she could say so freely. Now all this for some guy whom she doesn’t really know or particularly like. But she’s still sorry he’s leaving.

‘It’s a strange life, Doctor.’

‘Would you like to call me Artan finally?’

He comes dangerously close again. He’s just behind Hana; his breath is hot and sad.

‘Ok. It’s a strange life, Artan, because I’m sorry you’re leaving.’

‘So …’

‘There isn’t any “so.” I’m sorry, that’s all.’

She turns her back to him, her eyes brimming with tears. She suddenly starts sobbing, her hands on her stomach.

‘Go on, cry. Get it out of you.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Just let yourself go, Hana.’

He hugs her. She lets him. She rests her head for the first time ever on the heart of a man. They stand there together for a while. Here’s why it’s such a good thing to have your house on the edge of the world: nobody can see you; nobody can betray you.

‘If you will allow me,’ he murmurs, ‘I’ll ask Gjergj for your hand. I know that in these parts there’s no other way to have a relationship with a girl, so I’ll ask him for your hand in marriage.’

She detaches herself brusquely.

‘Who do you think you are? I don’t love you and I don’t know you, and anyway, who says I need a man?’

Her uncle has woken up and is thumping his stick against the wall to get her attention.

‘I have to go in,’ Hana says, cutting the conversation short.

The village is without a replacement doctor for a long time. The Ministry of Health doesn’t have another man to sacrifice to the mountains. The only nurse decides to devote herself to sick children, leaving the adults to fend for themselves.

‘Hana, my girl,’ the nurse says one day. ‘You need to go down to Scutari to pick up your uncle’s drugs. I can’t do everything, and anyway it’s dangerous, a woman all alone … I’m married and my husband won’t allow it.’

‘They wouldn’t give me the drugs, Comrade Nurse. They’re imported.’

‘I’ll call the pharmacist in Scutari,’ the nurse reassures her. ‘I know him personally.’

The nurse is in her forties, but her expression makes her look older, almost ancient. She observes Hana with curiosity, her big eyes boring into her.

‘What about you? Aren’t you going back to Tirana?’

‘I’ll go say goodbye to a few friends and find out when I can retake the final exam that I missed.’

‘I’ve never been to Tirana, I’ve only ever seen it on TV. Is it really that beautiful or do they make it look that way so that we mountain people envy them?’

Hana thinks about it.

‘There are buildings and asphalt,’ she says finally.

‘And I suppose your shoes don’t get muddy?’

‘It depends.’

More silence. The nurse’s curiosity goes into standby.

‘I’m tired,’ Hana says, and goes out without saying goodbye.

Gjergj tries to keep his pain under control, but when he has no energy left to fight it he turns nasty.

‘Get out of here! Go away! I don’t want you here!’

She obeys and takes refuge in her room with her books. She leafs through them, but the feelings she once had for them have turned into smoke that chokes her suddenly. She doesn’t love them anymore, and she feels guilty.

One day she tells her uncle she has to go down to Scutari to get his drugs. He looks a little better this morning; his expression is lively and a vein is pulsing on the back of his hand. He shakes his head.

‘I have to go,’ Hana says. ‘You only have three days’ worth of medication here.’

He’s still against it.

‘I’ll go tomorrow morning with one of the trucks carrying wood down to the city. I expect a driver will have room for me.’

He waves his arms in total disapproval.

‘So tell me, what should we do?’ Hana asks rudely. ‘You tell me, since you know everything. Am I supposed to stay here and watch you suffering without doing anything to help?’

He looks daggers at her, tries to say something but lets out little more than a grunt.

‘Yeah, I know, Uncle. I’m a woman and I shouldn’t be talking like this. I should know my place.’

He grabs the stick that he keeps by his bed and thumps it on the table. His hand is so unsteady that the stick falls onto the worn-out kilim .

‘I’m sorry,’ she says, as soon as she gets over the shock. ‘Forgive me … Will you forgive me?’

She hugs him. She curls up between his shoulder and his chin. Gjergj’s heart is a drum that has lost its beat.

‘You can’t go alone, my little one,’ he whispers in her ear. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘I’ll try. Look, I know how to take care of myself.’

‘There are wolves out there, my daughter. This place is full of wolves.’

There is a brief, transparent moment of silence. Then Hana decides to play along with her uncle.

‘It’s summer, Uncle Gjergj. The wolves aren’t that hungry.’

She gives him a couple of pills that are supposed to help him sleep. Then she goes up to her room and stands by the window listening to the late afternoon: the dialogue between plants and animals, life twisting up and then stretching out. A year ago, Hana would have been moved by such beauty; now she is calmly detached. She feels grown-up and she likes it.

‘You’re Hana Doda,’ she says to herself out loud. ‘Hana Doda, daughter of Felicità.’ Her mother’s name had been Happiness. Aunt Katrina always said she had had a beautiful voice. Hana remembers her singing around the house. Why was she thinking of this now?