Blooms of Darkness

19

One day, when they’re still asleep in the broad bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, Mariana wakes up in a panic.

“It’s very late, my darling,” she cries out. “You have to go into the closet immediately.” When that happens, Hugo feels his body shrink, and he hunches over and walks to the closet without saying anything.

It’s quiet. Not a sound can be heard from Mariana’s room. For a moment it seems that in a little while the door will open, and Mariana will call out, as she sometimes does, Darling, come to me.

Hugo listens expectantly.

He soon realizes that Mariana and her partner are pleased with each other, and whispering. From the few words he catches, it’s clear that this time there are no arguments, no accusations, and everything is happening quietly, and with consent.

The thought that Mariana has sent him out of her bed so she can sleep with a grown man suddenly fills Hugo with envy and anger.

He feels so angry and sorry for himself that he falls asleep.

In his dream he sees his mother. She is young and beautiful and dressed in the poplin gown she loved.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” she asks with a provocative smile.

“I?” He is stunned, like someone whose secrets have been bared.

“You prefer Mariana to me,” she says, pretending to be insulted, the way she sometimes did. “I love you very much, Mama.”

“You’re saying that to be polite,” she says, and disappears.

When Hugo wakes from that nightmare, he knows the dream’s meaning. If his mother were near him, he would try to console her. But since she isn’t there, her words remain suspended in the darkness, like an accusation supported by evidence.

In the meantime, the man has been replaced by someone else. Now unpleasant voices come from Mariana’s room. The new man speaks sternly, and Mariana tries in vain to get him to understand her. Again the old accusation: alcohol. The man reminds her that she promised not to drink the last time, too. Once again she has failed to keep her promise. After that the storm calms down.

The first morning lights filter into the closet and fill it with stripes of brightness. In a little while Mariana will bring Hugo a cup of warm milk, he comforts himself. But Mariana, as she sometimes does, forgets him. He’s so thirsty that he calls out in a whisper, “Mariana.” Mariana hears his call, opens the closet door, and bursts in. “You mustn’t call me. I warned you not to call me. Never call me.” Anger floods her face and darkens it.

For a long time Hugo lies curled up in a corner. In the afternoon Mariana stands in the doorway of the closet with a cup of milk. “How does Mariana’s darling feel? How did the night go? Was it cold?” she says, as though nothing has happened.

“I slept.”

“It’s good to sleep. You don’t know how good it is to sleep. I’m going to town to visit my mother. My mother is very sick, and she’s alone. There’s no one to take care of her. My sister doesn’t bother to come and help her. I won’t be back until evening. I’ll bring you some sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. If anyone knocks on the door, don’t answer.”

Mariana brings Hugo a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade.

“Have a pleasant time, my darling,” she says. And without another word, she locks the door and goes on her way.