Blooms of Darkness

64

The people gradually disperse. The wounded, after they are bandaged, sit leaning against a wall. Bewilderment settles in their eyes. Some of them curse, and one woman pounds her head with her fists. As always, after such a horror, there is anger and gnashing of teeth.

A small group of women sit on the ground and keen. “Why did they kill them? What harm did they do? Whom did they injure? They were young and beautiful, and they brought a bit of light into our dark world.” Later they change their tone and address heaven. “God, accept those young souls with love. You are merciful and forgiving, and You know that their souls were innocent and sought goodness. Fate was cruel to them. Now they are on their way to You. Don’t judge them severely, spare them.”

Hugo stays where he is. He feels that the words coming from the mourners’ mouths are powerful and aimed in the right direction. His whole body wants to weep, but his tears are frozen. One of the refugees is watching the women. “They know how to pray,” he says. “They address God the right way. Why are we mute? Why has prayer been taken from our mouths?”

“Are you still asking?” says his friend, who is standing next to him.

“Aren’t I allowed to ask?”

“A question for its own sake is stupid.”

Night falls. Everyone is tired. They sit by the fire and stare into it. No one asks what they are supposed to do or for whom they are supposed to wait to show them the way. Some of the men exchange banknotes and objects that appeared to be luxury items. There is great silence, as after a huge battle.

Hugo goes over to the guard at the gate and asks about the fate of the women who were taken away in the truck.

“What do you want to know?” The guard’s patience has worn out.

“Where are they?”

“You’re better off not knowing.”

“Is it impossible to go to them?”

“You’re apparently dumb,” he says, and turns his back.

Only now does Hugo realize that Mariana knew exactly what was coming. But in the green tranquility that surrounded them, her words had sounded to him like either hallucinations or irrational fears. Once she told him explicitly, “If they kill me, don’t forget me. You’re the only person in the world whom I trust. I buried some of my soul inside you. I don’t want to depart from the world without leaving you something of mine. I have no silver or gold. Take my love and hide it in your heart, and from time to time say to yourself, Once there was Mariana. She was a mortally wounded woman, but she never lost faith in God.”

That evening she went on to say other marvelous things, of which Hugo grasped only a little. Most of them were whispers that were swallowed up inside her. Now her words are returning to him with an intense clarity.

Hugo realizes that the guard at the gate is not only ignoring him, he is also contemptuous of him. Before long, he expresses his revulsion in two words: “Go away.”

Hugo returns to the square, to the refugees. The bonfire burns, and people surround it on all sides. The pot is full of soup, and everyone keeps refilling their bowls. Years of hunger take a while to satisfy. One old man claims that vegetable soup is a good thing for them to eat. The body has to get used to new conditions slowly, and it’s wrong to burden the digestive system with heavy foods. Vegetable soup is the correct food at this time. The others look at him with amazement, as if he were saying things to them that they had never heard.

People approach Hugo and say, “You’re Hugo, right?”

“Right.”

“My name is Tina,” one of them says, “and I am Otto’s aunt.”

“Where is Otto?” Hugo is frightened and rises to his feet. “God knows. I’m waiting for everyone from my family. Where were you?”

“With Mariana.”

“Poor thing. The sentence was horrible.”

“It didn’t apply to Mariana.” The words escape from his mouth.

“I’m glad.”

After a pause she adds, “I’m desperate to know what happened to my family. The news is confusing and contradictory. People here told me that they saw Otto’s mother. But others say that she wasn’t his mother, only a woman who looked like her. I’ve decided to wait. I won’t move from here. We mustn’t lose hope. There’s no reason to live without hope. As long as we live, we have to hope. That’s how God created us, whether we like it or not.” She speaks in a torrent, as though she were reading or reciting. It’s clear she isn’t in control of what comes out of her mouth. The words pour out in a flood. “I won’t go away from here. No power can move me. I’ll wait here until the last moments of my life.” She puts her hand on her mouth, but that gesture doesn’t stop the flow of words. In the end she says to him, “Excuse me. Now I must be by myself.” She turns away and is swallowed up in the darkness.