All Whom I Have Loved

26

I must have slept for some time. When I awoke, Mother was already poring over her notebooks. “You haven't eaten anything,” she said to me. “Should I prepare something for you?”

“I'm not hungry,” I said without lifting my head from the pillow. I heard her leave the house, and I heard her return toward morning.

I woke up early and got dressed. Only now did my thigh hurt from the stone that had hit me, and for a moment I was about to tell Mother, but I bit my tongue. We ate a hasty breakfast. On her way to the door, Mother muttered a few words and I heard her say the name Halina. I wanted to ask what happened, but she slipped away and was gone.

I was afraid to stay at home, so I went out. At first I thought of going to the hospital, but I changed my mind and went to the chapel where I had often been with Halina. Once, one of the women there had told us, “You can't stand here watching. You can't watch people when they're praying.”

Halina had answered whatever she answered, but we continued to come, perhaps because I dragged Halina there.

This time there was no one inside. The chapel door was wide open, and the icon gazed out from it. I hesitated but finally went in and knelt down. The tortured man in the icon stared at me, and I closed my eyes. I felt dizzy, and I covered my face with my hands.

I went back downtown and saw Halina floating in the sky, as if in a vision. She was wearing an embroidered blouse, a linen skirt, and sandals. She was very real and yet still distant. Once, in one of the icons, I saw someone floating like this. I asked Father what the floating meant, and he answered briefly, “After his death, Jesus went up to heaven.”

I continued walking in the direction of the ice-cream shop. I no longer saw Halina. I bought one ice-cream cone and then immediately bought another one. My pockets were full of money, and I spent it carelessly.

In the evening Mother told me that Halina had passed away and that there would be a funeral in her village in three days' time. “Has passed away” means going to heaven, I told myself. I did not ask for details, so as not to let her know that I was waiting for Halina to come back to me. Later, Mother asked how I was and how I had spent the time. The question and the way she asked it made me furious. Since she'd started slipping off to be with André at night, she either talked to me in a pretentious tone or smothered me with embraces.

Before she started correcting her notebooks at the table, she asked if I would like to go to the funeral.

“I have to be there,” I said in a strong voice.

Mother appeared to be very taken aback by my reply, and she asked me why. My hands trembled, and I wanted to pick up a chair and smash it; I restrained myself and said in a clear voice, “I want to see Halina going to heaven.” Mother looked as though she was about to reply, but she didn't. I was very agitated and couldn't fall asleep. Mother began to correct the notebooks, but every few minutes she turned to me and asked, “Aren't you asleep yet?” I didn't bother answering. Every answer drew an annoying response; it was best not to talk. In the end I pretended to sleep.

At night after Mother had left, I could hold it in no longer and I shouted, “Halina, come quickly! I can't take these lies any longer!”

The days till the funeral crawled by. I ate many sandwiches and a lot of ice cream and even a bar of Suchard chocolate that I bought at the patisserie. I took the money from my back pocket and paid. It was a pity Halina wasn't with me — we could have celebrated together.

“How come you've got so much money?” asked the Jew at the patisserie.

“Mother gave it to me.”

“You shouldn't carry so much money in your pockets.”

“Why?”

“Money isn't a good thing.”

Now I realized: this Jew knew my sin, and it would be best to make myself scarce there. And that's what I did, but the fear stayed with me. Halina told me that thieves are locked up in narrow cells at the prison, and once a day they're beaten so that they won't forget what they've done.