Elvira Dones - Sworn Virgin

‘Jonida!’ shouts Shtjefën. ‘From now till we get to the house you keep that mouth of yours shut!’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘That’s an order, in case you haven’t got the message.’

‘It was clear, Shtjefën,’ says Lila, trying to smooth things over.

‘Sorry, Dad.’

‘It’s your uncle you should apologize to, not me.’

‘Sorry, Uncle.’

‘Forgive me, Uncle Gjergj,’ Hana had implored. ‘I beg you.’

Without lifting his head, he had only grunted, like a bear. Then he had shouted, ‘Get out!’

She had left the room shaking. Forgive me, she had implored again to herself, without even knowing why she was begging forgiveness.

The others go. The men take their leave in the typical style of the north, pressing their foreheads together for a second, left hand on Hana’s shoulder, solemnly pronouncing the formula: ‘May you remain in good health, man.’ Then the Dibras leave too, with Hana in tow.

The journey to the house is tense, like a rifle shot waiting to be fired. Hana sits in the back of the car, next to Jonida, despite Lila’s efforts to make her sit in front. Shtjefën drives well, fast and attentive, a dancer on four wheels in a five-lane highway with cars passing on both sides. But he is tenser than he was at the airport.

‘The Beltway is always stressful,’ he comments, handing Hana a cigarette. She takes it but does not light up.

Every now and then Lila turns and smiles. Jonida stares out of the window, music playing to her through earphones and isolating her from the rest of the world, while the movement of the knee on which her CD player rests marks the rhythm of her temporary sojourn in another dimension.

The sunset is incredible, like a blood orange. Hana understands only that they are traveling northeast, leaving the capital behind them. The interstate signs flash past like prison runaways in green-and-white uniforms.

Jonida drums on her knee. Hana sees her hand holding out a note written in block letters:

YOUR ENGLISH SUCKS. I’LL TEACH YOU AMERICAN. YOU CAN COUNT ON IT.

Shtjefën and Jonida have already gone to bed.

‘Here we are, alone at last,’ says Lila.

Hana looks at her affectionately. Her breast is still itching. Lila is incredibly tense. May God help us, thinks Hana. It can’t be easy; she wouldn’t like to be in Lila’s place right now.

‘Listen,’ Hana says invitingly, ‘why don’t we relax a bit, both of us?’

Lila perches on a stool, making her look even more vulnerable.

‘I want you to feel comfortable.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really, Lila.’

Lila hugs her abruptly, kneeling down in front of her. Hana feels lost in her embrace, ill at ease. Lila understands and breaks away from her, returning to her stool. The grating metallic sound of a passing train drowns out the awkwardness of the moment, reducing the tension.

‘No drama. Ok, I get it,’ says Lila. ‘And no more hugs.’

Hana thinks about it. She lights a cigarette. She feels suddenly exposed and ugly.

‘No, hugs are ok,’ she murmurs. ‘Every now and then. I think they might do me good.’

‘D’you want to go to bed?’ Lila says, changing the subject. ‘It’s past midnight and you must be beat, it’s six in the morning for you.’

‘No, I’m not sleepy.’

‘I am.’

‘You go then.’

‘No.’

Lila takes a cigarette from Hana’s pack and lights it. From the room next door they can hear Shtjefën’s rhythmic snoring.

‘He’s a good man, right?’ Hana asks.

‘Yes, he’s a good father, and always tries to be a good husband.’

Lila puts the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. She starts to pull grapes off the bunch and, rather than eating them, she arranges them in a row on the table.

‘How did you live alone all these years?’

Hana lets the minutes go by. ‘I wasn’t alone,’ she answers. ‘If anything, the opposite.’

‘What do you mean?’

Hana does not shift her gaze from the row of grapes.

‘Have you forgotten the mountains, Lila?’

‘The mountains?’

‘Yes. Mountains made of eyes that observe and forbid, mountains made of silence …’

Shtjefën stops snoring. Hana eats the first grape in the chain. The tablecloth is so white. The kitchen is reassuringly spick and span. Lila, sitting in front of her, is a stranger.

‘It would have been easier if I’d been alone,’ she says.

Her man’s sports jacket has been shed in the corner. All evening, nobody has dared to pick it up and put it away.

‘Do you want me to peel an apple for you?’ Lila offers.

Hana bursts out laughing. It’s a kind laugh, one that nurtures itself and keeps itself going. She gets up, straightens her shoulders and adjusts her baggy pants.

‘Stop treating me like a man who needs to be served! I’m just your cousin Hana, we’re the same age and you’re letting me stay in your apartment,’ she says, not holding back her laughter. ‘I can do things for myself.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m laughing.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought I was ready to take this step, but now I’m scared stiff … and so are you. That’s why I’m laughing.’

‘You really are weird.’ Lila runs her hand through her hair. ‘You always were. Were you like this even as a man?’

‘As a man I carried a rifle, drove a truck and was careful with my words. But what do you know? You had already gone to America.’

‘Can I hug you again?’

Hana doesn’t answer. They embrace with a slow and harmonious gesture and stay entwined naturally. Hana’s head barely reaches Lila’s shoulder.

‘You need to take off these men’s clothes.’

‘There’s no hurry.’

‘The sooner you get rid of them the better.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I thought that was the deal. That you were coming here to go back to what you were.’

‘Yes, but there’s no hurry.’

Lila detaches herself and stares straight into her eyes. Hana smiles.

‘I’m in no hurry. And anyway, that’s not the most important thing.’

Her cousin is confused. Hana leans towards her and pulls the hair back from Lila’s face.

‘Jonida’s more important. I thought you had told her.’

Shtjefën appears at the door, pale and imposing in his light-blue pajamas.

‘Are you still up? … I’m thirsty.’

He goes to the fridge, pulls out a bottle, and drinks.

‘Sorry, I’m going back to bed.’

Suddenly Lila is overwhelmed by tiredness.

‘I can’t take any more, let’s go to bed too.’

‘I was talking to you about Jonida.’

‘I was never any good at explaining things to her,’ Lila says. ‘Around her I’m just a bundle of emotions. Shtjefën didn’t know what to do either. Then we both agreed. Who knows? If the Americans play some nasty trick on Hana and don’t let her into the country, there’s no point in upsetting the girl.’

‘Why wouldn’t they let me in?’

‘What planet are you from, Hana? A month ago it was the end of the world here.’ She crosses herself. ‘Security measures, fear of other attacks … all those things.’

Hana picks up her jacket and caresses it slowly.

‘We heard about September 11th, even over there,’ she says resentfully. ‘Even up in the mountains we have TV, what did you think?’

Lila laughs and puts the fruit bowl back in the fridge.

‘What’s wrong? You’re acting all offended now. I know you have TV, but it’s another world over there.’

Hana looks out of the window. It’ll soon be dawn. Opposite there are two buildings; down below, rows of parked cars.

‘Yes, we saw everything on the TV in the Rrnajë bar, but that day we’d drunk too much raki because Frrok had just married off his daughter, and the television was half broken, the sound wasn’t working.’