Blooms of Darkness

28

Hugo suddenly feels that danger is approaching. He checks the opening near the toilet that Mariana spoke of, and it’s a good thing he does, because it’s full of boards and rags. After cleaning it, he crawls through it easily and finds himself close to the woodshed. The thought that in an emergency he can escape makes Hugo glad, and he sits and writes in his notebook:

Mama dear,

Mariana was fired, and she is about to pass me on to her friend Nasha. The contact between people here isn’t soft. Everyone demands the impossible from others. Don’t worry, it’s not aimed at me. Mariana was fired because she drinks, and she really does drink a lot. Mariana promised me that she would look for a hiding place somewhere. I’m sure she’ll do it. I won’t conceal from you that there are days when I’m scared. In my heart I know that most of the fears are groundless. Everything around me here captivates my heart, and I forget the dangers. Most of the time I’m busy listening and making efforts to understand what I hear. The conjectures, I must truthfully confess, don’t lead me far. I feel that I’m changing. Mariana says that I’m maturing. It’s hard for me to know what’s happening in my body. I’ve grown taller, it seems to me.

A few days ago the thought crossed my mind, and it’s hard for me to get rid of it: What harm did the Jews do that everyone is persecuting them? Why do they have to take shelter in hiding places? Mariana says that the Jews are more delicate, and that, too, is something I can’t understand. Are they persecuted because of delicacy? You and Papa always told me, “People are people, there’s no difference among them, the same thoughts and the same pains.”

At home we never talked about what it means to be Jewish. What do we have in us that makes us enemies of humanity? Several times I’ve heard people here saying, “The Jews are a danger to the world, and they have to be destroyed.” I also heard one of Mariana’s guests say, “Our war isn’t against the Poles or against the Russians, but against the Jews.” Opinions like that don’t raise my spirits. I hope that those malicious intentions will never be carried out.

I think about you all the time,

Hugo

The next day the closet door opens, and Mariana stands there with a woman at her side.

“This is Hugo.” Mariana introduces him.

Hugo rises to his feet, as though exposed and with no choice but to admit that he has been in hiding.

“This is my friend Nasha. Nasha will be your new friend from now on. She will watch over you and make sure you’re not hungry. As soon as I get settled, I’ll come and get you. I won’t forget you, honey. Do you like him?” She turns to Nasha.

“Very much.”

“He’s not only sweet and lovable, he’s also smart.”

“Like all the Jews.” Nasha chuckles in a thin, restrained voice.

“Nasha can keep secrets, and you can rely on her. Her grandpa was a priest.”

“Don’t remind me of that.”

“I’m leaving my things with you, dear. When I make the right kind of arrangement, I’ll come and get you.”

Hugo feels more and more frozen with every passing minute. The words he intended to say are erased from his mind. Finally he asks, “Where are you going?”

“God knows.”

“Take care of yourself,” he says, and tears pour out onto his face.

“Don’t cry, honey.” Mariana draws Hugo close and hugs him. “You’re a hero, and you’re brave. Heroes don’t cry. Heroes say, Mariana has to go, but she’ll come back soon. Meanwhile, you’ll fall in love with Nasha, and you won’t want to come with me.”

At first sight it’s hard to figure out the new woman, but Hugo immediately notices: she is better groomed than Mariana.

“Goodbye, and we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” Mariana says, and kisses his face. That is the end of the transfer ceremony.

Hugo sits down and cries. He cries so much that he falls asleep and doesn’t hear the closet door open. Nasha is standing at the doorway.

“I brought you soup and meatballs.”

“Thank you.” Hugo quickly rises to his feet.

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Your name is Hugo, right?”

“Correct.”

“That’s an unusual name. It’s the first time I’ve heard that name.”

“In my class there was another boy named Hugo.”

“That’s a Jewish name.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Nasha looks at him attentively, and Hugo feels her gaze surveying him.

“How is it to be in the closet? Aren’t you cold?”

“Not anymore. It’s spring, right?”

“And it’s not boring for you?”

“I think or imagine things.” He doesn’t hide it from her. “And that relieves boredom?”

“Apparently,” Hugo says, using a word that his mathematics teacher used to use.

“And do you know what we do in this place?”

“Not exactly.”

“Didn’t Mariana tell you?”

“No.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Nasha says, and a thin smile spreads across her face.

Hugo knows that was a test. Did he pass? He has already noticed that Nasha is restrained. The words that come out of her mouth are few. Usually they are questions that reveal nothing about her. Mariana, by contrast, spat out words like boiling water.