Blooms of Darkness

17

In Hugo’s dream he sees Otto. At first sight, no change has taken place in him. The same skepticism and the same pessimism that he inherited from his mother are spread across his face. Only the pale pink of his narrow cheeks has turned brown, gotten thicker, giving him the look of a farmer. “Don’t you know me?” asks Hugo.

Hearing his question, Otto smiles, and suntanned creases spread across his forehead and cheeks.

“I’m Hugo, don’t you recognize me?” He makes an effort to emphasize the words.

“What do you want from me?” Otto shrugs his shoulders. Hugo recognizes that gesture very well, but at home it was accompanied by a few swallowed words of pessimistic justification. Now it’s a silent twitch.

“I have come from far away to see you. I miss you.” Hugo tries to rouse him from his forgetfulness.

What do you want from me? Otto’s gaze rejects any further approach.

Hugo sits and observes him: a peasant lad, with loosely fitting clothes, shoes made of coarse leather, and leggings wrapped around his calves. “If you deny me, I’ll go on my way.” He finds the words to say to him.

Otto responds to this appeal by lowering his head, as though he has grasped that it’s a question of bad manners.

“Otto, I didn’t come to bother you. If you decide to ignore me, or to forget me, or I don’t know what, I’ll clear out right away. You’re allowed to choose your friends as you please, but there is one thing I want to say to you. You’re deeply embedded in my soul, no less than Anna. You may forget me, but I won’t forget you.”

Hearing Hugo’s words, Otto raises his head, looks at him as if to say, Don’t waste your time, I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Clearly it isn’t denial or ignoring or contempt. Otto has changed completely. From his earlier incarnation nothing remains.

Hugo looks around again: the mountains are covered with trees, and on the broad plains peasants are harvesting golden grain, working together at a steady rhythm. In a moment Otto will join them. In these areas there is apparently no need for words. Otto is happier than he was at home. Here he blends into the seasons. There are no exceptional events. There is no mother to proclaim, morning and night, “If this is what life is, I’ll give up my share.” Here everyone eats full meals, and the animals submit to the discipline of the working people. No one argues or contradicts anyone, and in the evening, they gather up their belongings and return to their huts.

Suddenly Otto gives Hugo a look that says, Take me out of your thoughts. Your thoughts are no longer my thoughts. I belong to this place. This isn’t a land of wonders. It’s a difficult country, but whoever clings to it is cured of pessimism. Pessimism is a serious disease. My poor mother bequeathed it to me.

“And what will become of all of us?” Hugo asks.

Otto gives him the practical look of a peasant, as if to say, That’s no longer my concern. “The Jews and their pessimism tried to send me to hell. Now, thank God, I’m rid of them,” he says, and then vanishes.

Hugo wakes up, apparently because of the commotion taking place in Mariana’s room. Mariana is shouting at the top of her lungs, and a man is threatening, “I’ll kill you if you don’t shut up. I’ll kill you. Don’t forget that I’m an officer. With an officer, you don’t argue. You do what he orders you to do.” That threat doesn’t silence her, either.

In the midst of it all, a shot is heard. The sound pierces the house and the closet. Mariana’s room freezes for a moment. There is no response to the shot from the corridor or from the yard, either. Only later does Mariana burst into loud sobs, and a few women enter her room. “Are you wounded?” one of them asks.

“I’m not wounded,” she murmurs.

“That’s a relief.” The same woman goes on to ask, “What did he want from you?”

Mariana, still sobbing, tells the woman what the officer demanded of her. She speaks in detail, and graphically. Hugo doesn’t understand anything she says. The women agree with her that they mustn’t give in to demands like those. There is sisterhood and much talk, which slightly diffuses the shock.

After that everybody leaves Mariana’s room. There is silence. Not a sound can be heard — just the dripping of the faucet in the yard. Through the cracks in the closet, the first rays of morning light filter in. They are long and touch Hugo’s feet. For a moment he forgets the shot and the shock. The wonder of light captures his attention.

Later Hugo hears a woman say, “He didn’t intend to kill her. He wanted to frighten her.”

“He was afraid that his shame would be revealed to his fellow officers.” The voice of an older woman is heard.

“If so, he meant to kill her.”

“What can you say? Our profession is dangerous. They should pay us a risk allowance.”

Laughter is heard, and the voices mingle with one another. Hugo knows there will be accusations, clarifications, threats, and, finally, Mariana will have to apologize and promise that in the future she won’t shout and will do exactly what the customer demands of her.

It’s strange that this knowledge calms his fears and that he is comforted in his heart. In a moment the white morning will be revealed, and everything will be as it was. In the afternoon Mariana will stand in the doorway of the closet with a bowl of soup in her hand.