Lina

by Diane Baumer

  The twinkling of the candles increased. The flames moved furiously as if they were trying to convey a message.

  That’s the end. This time I won’t be saved. If I am, I’ll be just too lucky. François hid his face behind his hands as he burst into tears. I always knew I would end up like Pu Yi... Damn greed... I should have restrained myself in all this.

  Slight babbling was enough to proclaim his salvation.

  “Mai! Mai!”

  The Vietnamese opened her eyes dazedly. François held her in his arms.

  “You scared the hell out of me! You lost consciousness, just that. Are you okay?”

  She nodded, not taking her eyes off his hands.

  “Excuse me, I won’t touch you anymore. Don’t worry about a thing... Here you are – drink some water. Good girl… You’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

  “I... Sleep alone.”

  François left as he swore to himself that he would not get involved into any more trouble. As soon as the sculptures are unloaded, I’ll leave this house. No more sex with Mercedes, Asian girls, or Georgian ladies – plus, I’ll put an end to the picture mess. Only lawful deals. Not even one more.

  42. Yellow

  Lina leaned out of the living room window, attracted by a shining sunset in yellow shades. It’s funny – in China this color conveys royalty, while in Egypt it stands for mourning. So, what does this mean as far as I’m concerned? Will I die tomorrow like a queen? Thereafter, she scolded herself for her irony. It was not a good time to make jokes about death – her hands were scheduled to go through an operation on the following day.

  Belén is about to pick me up and drive me to the hospital. I bet my friend will eventually stay in Spain. Every week she finds a new excuse and puts off her return to the States.

  The pianist went into the study. She wanted to say goodbye to the piano. The instrument appeared cold. Don’t try to act tough with me, I’m afraid of losing you, too.

  After kissing it gently, Lina sat on the seat. As she rested her head on the black cover, she heard a moan.

  “I’m hurt, too. Wait for me. It’s all I’m asking.”

  She lifted the keyboard lid with the aid of her knee. For unknown reasons, back in the 19th century the colors of the keys had been reversed. Prior to this, black used to be white, while white used to be black. One color comes from light, while the other emerges from darkness. They probably wanted the first to stand out.

  Her two index fingers slowly pressed the keys for a delicate, sad melody. They proceeded one note at a time, the way children do when they are unable to play well. She was so engrossed in the music she did not even realize that Belén was watching her from the door. The physicist had the pose of a mother who is about to reprimand her child – her arms on her hips and one of her feet resting before her. Look at her… Now she’s playing the piano... Watching the scene makes me dizzy. That’s right what her hands need before the surgery.

  The physician had a second thought. Why interrupt such an emotional setting? Wrapped in a golden halo, Lina radiated the warmth of one appointed by the sun to turn everything into gold at the touch of her fingertips.

  What is good for your soul can’t be bad for your body. Poor Lina... She can barely play.

  “How simple and beautiful!” Belén exclaimed as soon as the pianist finished.

  “It’s nothing, it just occurred to me,” Lina said as she turned around. When she saw her friend wearing yellow, she gestured in surprise. Look at her – she is matching the sky.

  Belén realized that maybe yellow was not the most suitable color to accompany a superstitious person.

  “I just put it on thoughtlessly. Please don’t start getting obsessed with that. Yellow doesn’t bring bad luck. That is just a superstition. For many, it draws good things.”

  “What about that? Isn’t that a superstition? Well, which one is right?” she asked sharply.

  “By the way, that music you played before. Doesn’t it remind you of…?”

  Lina, surprised, tried to recall.

  “No, you probably mistook it for something else.”

  “We were nine. You sat at the piano in my house with a score written by you.”

  “Was it the same? How funny! Also, what an outstanding memory you have!”

  “I can’t understand why you never wanted to compose. You were excellent at it. Well, shall we go?”

  Doctor Ledesma and Doctor Urriza, who had come from Pamplona, arrived at the hospital in the morning. Álvaro began to feel bad as he was walking toward the operating room.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the restroom for a minute,” he told his colleague.

  There he moistened his face and practiced some breathing techniques to keep his panic at bay. His head was racing. He was nobody to put her patient at high risk through surgery based on an ad-hoc technique. Also, according to almost all doctors, the pianist had no chances of healing. What if she died? I have been reckless. Seemingly, lessons weren’t learned.

  He stopped by the door of the operating room to catch his breath. Three, two, one… Go.

  The first thing he saw as he entered was Lina’s smile. The pianist sensed the fear in Doctor Ledesma’s face. I hope everything will turn out well so he can regain his self-confidence.

  “Don’t worry about anything. Whatever the outcome will be, I’ll be eternally grateful. You have been very generous. If something goes wrong, promise me you won’t blame yourself for it.”

  He stroked her hand. Urritza put his own on Doctor Ledesma’s shoulder as he addressed the patient.

  “Well, well… so you are not grateful to me? He just came to watch, huh? Here it’s just me working” Urritza joked to ease the situation.

  She nodded. At that moment, the pianist was anesthetized and fell into a deep sleep.

  Nine hours later, Álvaro informed Belén that everything had come out well.

  “Thank you. Get some more rest – you look exhausted.”

  Belén called the monastery. She had promised the friars that, as soon as her friend came out of the operating room, they would be informed.

  The magnificent sunshine which filled the following days seemed to confirm that gray times had been left behind. Despite her situation, Lina felt like one of those unruly trees that dared to blossom in the middle of the cold winter. As she inhaled, she could perceive the scent of longing during her days of captivity in her somber cave.

  The lied Frühling (‘Spring’), by Richard Strauss, played inside her head.

  The composer had died before this tune was first performed. Might he have listened to it from the great beyond? What about my people? – Will they be able to listen to me? And you, my dear Tuna, can you recognize my voice? I feel your body throbbing on my lap. Can you sense my caress?

  Doctor Ledesma entered the room. Lina’s eyes became even brighter, if that could be possible. Such brightness did not go unnoticed to the doctor. It seems like a dream to see her in such a cheerful mood. It feels as if we had gotten rid of her pessimism in the operating room.

  He would gladly have broken open the champagne with her, yet his sound judgment prevented him from doing so.

  In contrast, Lina proceeded without beating around the bush.

  “When will you let me move my fingers? I can’t stand these bandages anymore.”

  “In due course.”

  “What about my discharge?”

  “In due course.”

  “And getting up?”

  “In due course, too…” he repeated sympathetically.

  “Doctor Ledesma...” the patient said using a childlike reproachful tone.

  “Miss Maldonado...” he said, playing along.

  They both laughed, just for the sake of laughing.

  43. Repetition

  In the distillery, the choir sang Gauden
s Gaudebo, the Gregorian introit for the Mass of the Immaculate Conception, which was held yearly on December 8th. This time Brother Lucas had not joined in with his voice from the garden. He seemed engrossed in the tomato plants.

  Brother Pedro and Brother Bartolo halted to watch him.

  “He will become hypnotized by the tomatoes,” Brother Bartolo said sarcastically.

  “Don’t mock him, Brother Bartolo. «Discretion will watch over you, understanding will guard you.»”46

  They left the Mexican deep in his thoughts.

  Lina is right. If Brother Simón ruled out the friars, that means he knew whose son I was, Brother Lucas said to himself.

  He resumed his work, spreading the doubts seeded with the aid of his hoe.

  Why did Brother Simón hide this from me? No one was more aware of my burning desire to find out who my parents were. Unless he had learned about this as a confession. In that case, he most likely didn’t tell anyone, and the secret will remain in his grave forever. Yet, what if it had been otherwise and someone else in the monastery knew? What if they all knew?

  Looking back, his beloved brethren had seemed to be acting strangely – they had banned him from going out to play with other children or attending school, they would change the subject every time he begged them to help him look for his mother… No doubt he had been happy and loved, much more than other kids, but that was not the point. All over the world, humanity has been wondering about its origin since the beginning of time. Where do we come from? The great question. I don’t have the answer, even regarding my personal background.

  He shook his head thoughtfully. I’m like a tomato that doesn’t know which berry its seed came from. The Mexican slapped his forehead. How can I be so dumb? How bright my ideas are!

  Brother Lucas examined the names of the friars who were residing in the monastery of Mexico when he had been abandoned as a child. So, what should I do? Should I call them? I don’t think they’ll give me any information just like that. It’d be best for me to speak to them face-to-face when I return to Mexico. But when will that be? he snorted.

  Brother Pedro’s voice took him out of his reverie.

  “Lunch is ready. Do you want to call the pianist first to check on her?”

  Lina smiled as she heard the friar’s voice coming from the receiver. That man had a gift. By his side, everyone felt happier and better-hearted.

  “My recovery is going well. Please come to play whenever you feel like it. My piano misses you.”

  Brother Lucas did not want to interfere with her rest. Their conversation became a déjà vu from the past – “you don’t bother me at all, actually you are doing me a favor;” “no, you are the one doing me the favor…”

  Once they had said goodbye to each other, Lina went to the library. Rosario had placed Belén’s most recent gift on the music stand – Inquietudes sentimentales, by Chilean writer Teresa Wilms Montt47. Lina stroked the cover.

  “‘Dying, after having felt and not being anything...’ she would say about her life. About mine I would say, ‘dying, after being everything and not having lived.’”

  The two women remained silent for a little while, deep in their thoughts.

  “Are you happy, Rosario?” Lina finally said.

  The caregiver shrugged with a smile.

  “When my daughter was five, she came one day and asked me, ‘Why are you always happy? Is it because you resign yourself to anything?’”

  “A little philosopher...”

  “Her remark made me give it some thought. I am happy because I am satisfied with what I have – a healthy family and the income needed to cover my expenses. I don’t actually seek anything else, but I can’t resign myself to being miserable.”

  “I repress myself for fear of enjoying life. I always have the feeling that I will get punished if I do.”

  Rosario sat next to her.

  “Look around. We are all doomed, whether we enjoy ourselves or not. Being overcome by pessimism is, to some extent, an act that involves submission.”

  “I have been submissive for the last few years. I’m ashamed to admit it. The fact that I tolerated that makes me feel even weaker.”

  Rosario noticed the words in the open book:

  Nature, since you are so kind to those who are born great, why are you not as kind to those born miserable?48

  “Are you sure you are benefiting from these readings?” she asked amusedly.

  Lina could not help but laugh.

  “It feels good to read something as well-written. How do people heal their souls?”

  “Can I get a bottle of wine? I’ll replace it next time.”

  “You can open as many as you want – no need for replacements.”

  “Wait a minute!” Rosario said energetically.

  The caretaker brought in a bottle and two glasses. On the Internet she searched for the song Non, je ne regrette rien and played it at full volume.

  “Let’s let off some steam, Lina!”

  Both sang loudly, swaying to the beat.

  “What about us? Is there anything we regret?”

  “No, nothing at all!”

  Brother Lucas and Cinnamon were on their way. In the backpack there was the medicine, an ointment, some persimmons, and an assortment of winter vegetables.

  He would never have imagined that, at that time, a registered letter from Mexico was being delivered in the monastery. The addressee was Brother Pedro.

  The custodian opened it decisively. I hope I’m not acting crazy, though, according to Saint Francis, I should probably become a new madman in this world. As soon as he finished reading, he turned to the crucifix on the wall.

  “I have been accepted as a custodian at the monastery in Mexico. How should I tell Brother Lucas?”

  The custodian thought it would be best to wait until the Epiphany was over to disclose it. That way he will enjoy Christmas peacefully. I hope he doesn’t take it too badly. I’m not sure whether he will understand.

  When Brother Lucas rang the bell, Rosario and Lina went to open like two laughing teenagers. Sensing there was some kind of party going on, Cinnamon cheered up ipso facto.

  It was a unique afternoon. For the first time in a while, Brother Lucas left his worries behind. They played some Mexican songs on the piano and sang merrily.

  “Ay, ay, ay! Viva México!”

  “Woof, woof, woof...”

  44. Beware!

  François was driving his convertible back to his house after a few days’ rest on the Canary Islands. He was only human, so the tensions he had undergone in the last few weeks had been about to affect him. The Belgian thought he had overcome those under the island sun. However, as he approached the crime scene, he started to feel uneasy again. The strange thing is that Endzela’s family never called asking after her.

  Reclining on the hospital bed, Endzela closed the book she was reading – Olvidado rey Gudú (Forgotten King Gudú), by Spanish writer Ana María Matute49. The room was guarded night and day by two police officers. She was a protected witness. Once again, the Georgian pictured how it would feel when they came in to announce François’ arrest.

  Romanticism is to love what a jitanjáfora50 is to a poem, she said to herself.

  «Françoizule zofali nule

  Kala uzirólia benúfala

  Kaleola olizóndrila

  Bring! Feluna kartúfala.»

  The brightness of his shining armor had blinded me so much that I forgot to check whether there was a gentleman therein. I would just shower every time I smelled bad after he had surrounded me in his inner stink.

  François drove his convertible into the residential area. As he approached the street, he instinctively took his foot off the gas pedal. There were several cars with tinted windows.

  “How odd. I never saw these people before.”

/>   He drove past slowly, looking left and right, as he weighed up what to do.

  “I’ll probably know soon.”

  He swerved. The convertible skidded as François backed up and fled at full speed. Immediately afterward, the cars started to chase him with magnetic sirens.”

  “It’s the secret police. This looks ugly.”

  He stepped on the gas pedal. If I’m lucky enough, I’ll get rid of them. This car is faster.

  Neither the pursued nor the pursuers realized that there was someone else following the retinue.

  “Be careful – don’t get too close to the fuzz or raise any suspicions.”

  “What if they arrest the Belgian?”

  “We’ll do away with him in jail.”

  Once on the highway, François drove at full throttle – without notice he would change lanes and stand in the way of other terrorized drivers. He looked at the gas gage. Luck was not on his side. I feel that I’m not escaping from them. If I could reach the country area where Lina lives... I know those mountains like the back of my hand.

  Indeed, as he entered the winding curves of the location, there was no longer a trace of the sirens.

  I could go to Lina’s house. I’ll call her. Yes, she is in love. Love conquers pride. I am sure that, in her heart of hearts, she wants to forgive me. Come on, pick up the phone. There she is!

  “Lina! It’s me. François needs to apologize. He is unable to find his peace. He didn’t treat you right. You were the best thing that ever happened to him. The best... I’m not far from your house right now. Open the door for me so we can talk, okay? It will be good for both of us.”

  “Never! You already heard me right. Never come near me again. I’m no longer the stupid woman you met. If life was fair, you would pay dearly for your rotten heart.”