Blooms of Darkness

47

The guard’s son sneaks in, and he has news. “The German army is withdrawing in disarray, and the Russian army is closing in on its rear.” When he used to come to The Residence, his father would send him to one of the rooms. All the women were afraid of him, and they would scream when they saw him. He was as violent as he looked. Once his father sent him into Mariana’s room, and Mariana hollered in fear, “Jesus, save me.” He tried to overcome her, but she was hysterical and struggled wildly. In the end, he spat at her and said, “You don’t even know how to be a whore.”

Since they last saw him, he has grown thinner. His violence hasn’t disappeared, but it isn’t like before.

“You have to run away, and as quickly as possible,” he says.

“Where will we go?” one of them asks.

“Anywhere, just not here.”

His father and he collaborated with the Germans, turning in Jews and Communists. Now he feels the noose closing around him, and he has come to seek witnesses to testify in his favor.

“We’re not qualified to be witnesses,” one of them says. “Why not?” he asks.

“Whoever works in our profession isn’t believed. They say that she’s lying or making things up.”

“You won’t testify on my behalf?”

“I’ll testify, but the investigators will disqualify my testimony.”

He apparently understands his situation, and when night falls, he clears out.

A woman’s voice is heard. “All these years he’s been turning in Communists and Jews. Now his time has come.”

A snowstorm rages outside, covering the houses and the fences. Every time an obstacle stands in Mariana’s way, she grabs her bottle and won’t let it go. This night she outdoes herself. “Now let God be worried, not me. I can’t stop the whirl of the storm.”

Hugo isn’t worried. The nights with Mariana are warm and pleasurable, and it seems to him that all this will continue without end. In the middle of the night, she catches fire, hugging and kissing Hugo and saying, “Now you’re mine. Now no one will take you away from me.” Hugo is astonished by the power of her softness, until her body and his are one.

More than once in his life, Hugo will try to reimagine that drunken night. He will call up the thick darkness that was infused with perfume and brandy, and the pleasure that was mixed with a fear of the abyss. But not a word passed between them, as if words had become extinct.

Victoria serves the last meal with restrained formality, and it’s evident that parting is hard for her. Eventually she recovers and says, “Girls, you mustn’t be afraid. Fear is a despicable trait, and we have to overcome it. God is in heaven, and He will preserve you.”

Where will we go? their eyes ask again and again.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Victoria says. “A storm is raging, and we can only be by ourselves and pray. Prayer is our secret weapon.”

“What will we eat, Mother?”

“I have some more corn flour, and tomorrow I’ll give everybody a slice of corn bread.” Victoria’s voice is now full and not hesitant. The girls are attentive to what she says and not afraid of her. She can’t feed them as she has done all these years, but she has abundant faith.

Mariana still has a quarter of a bottle of brandy. She is frugal, sipping a few drops at a time and saying, “What will I do when the brandy runs out? I’ll lose my mind. Hugo, honey, guard the bottle. If I ask for it, tell me that I have to save the rest for an emergency. I won’t get angry at you.”

But the nights are uninterrupted pleasure. Hugo drinks the last of the brandy from her mouth, wrapped in her legs, hearing only whispers of love. “You’re a wonderful puppy. All those months I longed for you. Now you’re mine forever.” Hugo hears and does what she wants. Sometimes sudden fear makes him tremble, but he overcomes it. Mariana loves me, he says to himself, and there’s nothing to fear.

Everybody sleeps late, and in the afternoon Victoria brings out the icon, puts it on the chair, and the girls fall to their knees and pray.

“Prayer foils plots and changes fates,” Victoria instructs them.

“What would we do without you, Mother?”

“It’s not me. God sent me to you. God takes care of His creatures. There is no coincidence in the world.”

What would we do without you? their eyes ask.

“I gave you what God told me to give you. Now the image of Jesus is engraved on your hearts, and you know in your bodies, too, that there is a God in heaven. You mustn’t fear, and you mustn’t despair.”

“And what will happen with our sins?”

“If anyone confesses and promises not to sin again, his sins are erased.”

Meanwhile, Madam has fled for her life. The women break into her apartment, and wealth and luxury abound in every corner. For a moment they are astounded. Then they begin to loot. They don’t find jewelry or money, but there is a cupboard full of beverages and chocolates. “If there’s no bread, we’ll drink liqueur and eat chocolate,” one of them says, and everybody cheers her. There’s joy, as after a successful robbery. Mariana satisfies herself with five bottles of brandy, two bottles of liqueur, a lot of chocolate, and a big package of cigarettes.

At night spirits are high, and everybody goes back to loot some more. They find hidden corners, and in them are not jewels or gold coins, but a package of silk stockings and perfumes.

“Do not rejoice at the fall of your enemy,” Victoria warns them. “You mustn’t exult too much.”

“Madam oppressed us night after night.”

“God doesn’t like gloating.”

Over the past weeks, Victoria has changed completely. Her face has become narrow and taken on a deathly pallor. She no longer speaks like an ordinary person. Biblical verses tumble from her mouth, both clear and sharp verses and obscure ones. When something upsets her, fire lights up her eyes, and they blaze in fury.