Ilinca was looking at me with very big eyes. I had let her down. “But you lived the most passionate love story with Dan,” she felt she needed to remind me. “I witnessed it. How can you be a nonbeliever after experiencing that?”
“Okay. I believe. It’s just that believing requires a lot of effort, you know? It is also more difficult at thirty than it ever was at nineteen. At that age, life was full of wonders. Now, it’s just bewilderment.”
There was a moment of silence while we all hid behind the straws from our glasses of café frappé.
“I know Dan still thinks of you. He is still unable to nurture any significant relationship. Still immature as always. I don’t know how he can be George’s brother.” Ilinca was looking at me with the expression of a mother who wants to protect her child from all the evils of this world.
“I know. Actually, he called me a few weeks back,” I told her.
“Really? He called you?”
“Yes. He called me and told how he misses me and all that. You know him. Fantasies.”
“He’s such an asshole. Never changed. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I cannot feel any of it anymore. It’s all burned down to ashes, and the ashes have been washed by the rain. There is nothing left. I was in love with somebody who doesn’t exist. He just provided me with a face for my dream.”
“Oh, come on, now. We know everything all too well. You cried on our shoulders for months. Don’t make it sound unimportant now. That was very intense between you two.”
“It was intense because we were young and in love with love, or whatever. Let’s talk about something else, now, please?”
We were all a little drunk by the time we left for home. The café frappé had been followed by a few glasses of wine.
Now, back at home, I am feeling too sober. I think I am going to take a long bath. I cannot stop thinking about Dan. About the illusion in which I lived at that time. I thought that was it. I thought I had found you, Amon.
But when it all succumbed under my feet, it was the most difficult time in my life. I was so young. The core of my entire universe had been broken into pieces. There were not a few moments when I thought that was my end. No, I did not want to kill myself, but I was certain that I was going to lose my mind and all touch with the real world. How that didn’t happen still amazes me. Why didn’t I break? Something powerful dragged me out. It was you, Amon. It happened when I could break the two of you into separate entities, when I realized that you were still here, that you still loved me even when he was gone.
. .
The notebook was bought in a gift shop that carried Chinese pillow covers and colorful silk robes, Indian shawls, perfumed candles, and handmade picture frames. It is small in size, just right to be carried around, and made of unbleached, brown, rough paper, decorated with delicate leaves printed in the corners.
LIFE SEEMS TO BE BACK TO NORMAL now. Today, I went to the park to read directly under the sun. I sat on my bench, in the shady corner where nobody passes by. The air was cool and perfumed with chestnut blossoms. A ray of sun was sneaking through the heavy braches to warm my legs on the bench. There is so much simple beauty and happiness around us. Why do we always strive for something more?
I met Ra in the park. We talked about happiness and how we have already lost our chance to be happy the moment we start to consciously look for it. He also started to criticize my life, as he often feels inclined to do.
“I am afraid that you are wasting yourself, Ana. You’re getting too entangled in the small miseries of life. I see a glowing, beautiful soul, and a girl who takes herself too seriously and loses sight of what really matters.”
I never know if he compliments or scolds me. He told me that I can be a drama queen, that I am very selfish sometimes. He’s right.
We talked until midnight, until I was so frozen that I couldn’t feel my fingers. We talked about love and beauty, so the cold didn’t matter.
“Love changes the world around us and makes it sparkle, the way the sun, in the morning, uncovers slowly earth’s beauty. One day you fall in love, and you don’t recognize anything around you anymore. You don’t know where the old roads lead, and you are lost the moment you step out of the door because you live in a place unseen before.” He looked like a beautiful prophet at that moment, too bright and too intense for me.
.
I want to be with Dan. I don’t care about anything else. I cannot afford to care. It kills me. He told me she broke up with him. They are no longer together. Faith chose. Should I feel offended? Should I only take him back if he makes the difficult choice between her and me? I don’t know.
Yesterday, we went to the theatre with the whole gang. Dan was going to come meet us directly in front of the theatre because he had a busy afternoon, and Ra came to pick me up from my room so that we could take the long subway ride together. He brought me some books and a pink hydrangea with a tall stem, tied in a heavy silk, faded-pink ribbon. I was surprised by the hydrangea. “It beamed at me in the flower market, and I had to get it,” he explained. “You can wear the ribbon in your hair. I had bought it on a trip some time ago, but never had a chance to give it to you.”
“How beautiful. I love hydrangeas,” I said cheerfully.
“I thought it would brighten your day.”
My hands felt weak, and I almost dropped the flower.
I was fifteen, coming back from a long day at school, in late November. It was a dark evening. I had stayed late in school with my editorial team to prepare the Christmas edition of our school’s newspaper. It had been drizzling all day, and I was feeling cold and tired. The wind was starting to rush and rustle through the heavy branches.
I had taken the park shortcut which, although a little frightening, would get me home and out of the rain sooner. Cold steam was dripping on the top of my head. I could feel my hair drenching, neck stiffening, and head pulsating. Distant lights were flickering from warm apartments in buildings at the outskirts of the park. People were having dinner. I could see clearly in my mind the colorful table linens and the bowls filled with soup. Outside, all was grey and blurry. Steps were splashing somewhere behind me, but there was no one that I could see.
I kept my head down, eyes halfway closed, to avoid the water that had started pouring, and my legs began to run. There must have been a branch or a rock that I didn’t see. Or maybe I just slipped on the wet paving stones. As I lay on the ground, nothing was hurting, as if the fall had actually been floating, and the ground was a cloud of feathery, warm mud.
As I lifted my eyes, surrounded by the deep darkness, a pink inflorescence of otherworldly beauty was beaming with color and life right in front of me. The blooms were enormous and inviting, and without thinking, I pulled myself closer to smell them. One branch had fallen to the ground, broken, holding onto only a thin shred of green tissue. I pulled it gently, and it came loose.
The next moment, I was up, holding the flower in my hand and letting it lead me home. For the rest of the walk, I didn’t feel the cold rain, I couldn’t hear the growling thunders, and the wind felt balmy and refreshing. All I could see was the ball of pink light in my hand. I still have a few of those flowers pressed dry in a book.
Ra, of course, knew nothing of this. It is a foolish story that I wouldn’t tell anyone. He stepped inside the kitchen, picked up a green bottle from my windowsill collection of colorful glass, filled it with water, and told me to put the hydrangea in. He stood there, looking at it for a few seconds, then came to me and wrapped the silk ribbon around my wrist. “Wear it tonight.”
The subway ride was quiet and very long. We reached the theatre early and sat on a bench in the park while waiting for everybody else to show up. There was no talking, just watching people passing by. At times, I could feel his gaze on me, but I pretended I didn’t notice. He does that sometimes.
“What is it?” I turned and tried to smile.
He put one arm around me, pulling me
closer, and kissed me. I couldn’t react. I couldn’t find the strength to push him away. I remained immobile. My mind had been emptied of thoughts. For just a moment. Then my head started buzzing again. I wanted to ask what was wrong with him, hit him, say angry words that would never be forgiven. I wanted to ask why, but I already knew. I had known it. I had been afraid of it.
He was the one who spoke first. “I am leaving Bucharest tomorrow. I’m taking a museum curator position at a monastery in Bucovina. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you infernally.” Saying those words, he was composed and calm. Only his eyes were lit by an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “I love you, I’m afraid. I hoped for a while that you would understand, but you didn’t. It is fine. I’ll be fine. Just take care of yourself, Okay?”
Sun rays that escaped through the dense foliage were playing on his face, illuminating his forehead, then his chin, then one eye, like a puzzle recreated in the light. I couldn’t see straight, and I didn’t want to hear anything anymore.
“If ever, by any chance,” he continued, “you find yourself lonely and with no better prospects, call me. I’ll be there for you.” He took a deep breath, and I felt shards from my heart digging painful holes inside my chest.
“I need to say one more thing,” he said. “I have a very good life. I am happy with my work and comfortable in my solitude. I have everything I need, and I don’t ask for anything else. My simple life has been good to me. If you decide to change it, however, you are the only one who can do it. But right now, don’t say anything, please. I know you cannot say the only thing that I need to hear, so don’t even try.”
Fire and ice rained inside of me.
Dan showed up right at that moment. I jumped off the bench to run to him. Out of a sense of duty and guilt, more than anything else, I kissed him and put my arms around him. The earth was moving, and I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw up the last half hour, the park bench, the evening sun.
“Let’s go in. See you, Ra.” Dan waved his hand at Ra and started toward the theatre entrance. I didn’t look back. During the show, I tried to find Ra in one of the seats around us, but I couldn’t see anything. I don’t know if he came in at all.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
.
My sweet Ana,
I am writing to you from a solitary rock monastery in the mountains, surrounded by forests and not much else. All traces of civilization are far away. You probably wouldn’t like it here.
There is not much to do around this place beside work. I enjoy my work as always. The paintings on these rock walls are five hundred years old and their beauty cannot be described in words. In the evenings, however, I feel bored to death. Your photograph keeps me constant company. I talk to Ana from the photo, and she seems to have a better understanding in the still image than you do in the motion picture of our real life.
I started this letter planning to write something happy and joyful for you. I wanted to make you smile when you read this, but nothing comes to mind. I am too overcome by my own sadness. Don’t get bothered by it, please. I am feeling inexplicably lonely here. I thought I would be used to my loneliness by now, but I find myself miserable and missing home. I miss you. How I wish I could come back and hold you in my arms once more.
Love you,
Ra
.
It is six in the morning, and I came out on the balcony to write in my diary while everybody is still asleep. I am sharing a tiny hotel suite with Dan, George, and Ilinca. Marina and Andru have the room across the hallway.
We went to sleep very late yesterday, but I wanted to wake up early and spend some time by myself with the journal. I wished we could see the sea from here. I can hear it. I guess that’s good enough.
I want to write about yesterday evening so that I don’t forget the magic.
It was getting dark, and the air breezed through my cotton voile dress. I danced my way to the beach. The air was lifting me. I can’t remember feeling so light ever before. The wet smell of the water and algae was mixed with that of fried fish and beer and another, sweet smell, brought by the wind. I took my sandals off so that I could feel the warm pavement directly under my feet.
We went to a restaurant terrace and sat at a table with a wide view of the evening sea. I couldn’t drink my beer because I felt already intoxicated and disconnected from the world surrounding me. But this time, it didn’t feel like expanding beyond my body, but like crushing inside it. Later, we all went for a walk on the beach, to feel the sea sweeping the sand from under our feet. Dan held me in his arms as we sank in the moving sand, and balance slowly returned to the world.
Tomorrow, we are going back home and everything will be over. It was enough. It was a lot.
I can hear some noises coming from inside the room. Somebody is probably waking up.
.
The sea is hurling inside me. The sand has entered my skin and is eating my flesh. My dead body belongs inside the beach. I feel the earth pulling me down, deep. I am a little grain of gray pain swept away.
Dan told me that he loved me, but she was back in his life, and he would never be able to break up with her. He loves me, but I am not enough for him. “I wish you could forgive me, but I know you can’t. I’ve started to know you better than I know myself.”
Well, no, not really. You barely know yourself, and you have no idea who I am.
“I am a weak man. I wished I could rise to your expectations. I am not that good. I love you. I hoped I would be able to protect you. I cannot believe I am doing this to you.”
What on earth do you mean, you insignificant, meaningless, unworthy, so-much-loved, so-much-hated thing?
“You make me feel like a god. It’s still unbelievable to me that you even looked at me. How can you love me? I don’t understand. On my side, it is easy. It’s easy to love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. Who wouldn’t?”
You.
It is getting cold.
.
On the train back home.
“We are not meant to be together, Ana. You should be looking for somebody else. Somebody worthy of you. I will just love you all my life without hope, but I know this is the right thing to do now.”
But I loved you, I love you. Why without hope? Oh, because it’s just your beautiful lies.
The entire world is decomposing in front of me. It is losing shape and meaning. I am surrounded by shatters of what once was a landscape with a sea, sand, twisted trees, and street cafes with loud dance music. It all burst into millions of pieces that don’t make sense anymore.
.
Nights are the most horrible thing nature came up with to torture us. There is no other use for them, is there? Not for those of us who can never sleep. At night, we can feel how really alone we are. We all go inside, between walls that separate us from all the other souls living on the earth. The souls of the dead are still around, trying to get a chance to put a word in. The murmur of the day faints, all movement ceases, all human beings go to another land to dream.
Every night, I sink deeper into my insanity. When the evening falls, I look around and see all the things in the room grinning at me with the knowledge that I don’t have anybody and they are my only friends. This room, I am sure, has become evil.
I spend many sleepless nights looking at the street from our balcony. In front of my window, there is this beautiful light pole, an intricate wrought iron street lamp from another century beaming on the empty street a mellow light that yellows the night. People pass under it, on the street, until very late. Most of them seem happy and probably drunk. I still hope to see him passing on the street.
Actually, I have seen him two days ago, in the morning. I think. A quick glance and a deep stabbing in the heart. He was probably going to college; he was holding some folders under his arm, and he looked so handsome. He was wearing that rust-colored shirt that we bought together in the spring, and a coffee-brown jacket that he loves. Maybe she bought that one
. Wouldn’t that be appropriate? I would give half of my life just to have his love again. Come, and I’ll sign the deal in blood.
4.
THE OLD PEAR TREE WAS ALIVE and heavy with fruit, still hidden there in the valley, in the middle of the vineyard. She put her hand out, barely touching the light yellow fruit, and it fell in her hand. It smelled of sun, wind, rain, and vigorous spring blooms. Ana took a bite. That was the taste of a true pear, as she knew it as a child, as she tried to remember throughout the years when all those other fruits that she had been eating only bore the name of the pear. She suddenly felt happy and very grateful. Tears and pear juices fed the soil under her feet.
.
Ana couldn’t even remember what she had left behind in Bucharest. There were men who didn’t belong in her life, and there were dreams that turned only into real nightmares. It all felt very distant now, as if the physical miles that she had put between herself and the place of the events pushed the pain in her heart just as far. It was all blurred, a little sad, and suddenly much less important.
Her grandparents’ village was a small place where everyone started to ask the next day about the young woman who had come to live in the blue house with the well.
“People are asking me, child, what you are doing here,” Vica told Ana in the morning, when she came to demonstrate how easy it was to make pear jam. “They think it’s strange—who moves from the city to this godforsaken place?”
Vica’s eyes, which shined bright and beautiful on the tan face so wrinkled that it looked like muddy land dried and cracked by an unforgiving drought, looked through Ana. That wrinkled face didn’t seem to have ever been home to a smile.
“I just came on vacation, Tanti Vica. I thought I needed some fresh air and quiet.”
“Yes, indeed. Quiet and fresh air—we have plenty of those here. It is good that you came, child. I was afraid the lot of you would sell the house. Your buna wouldn’t be able to find rest in the ground if you did that.”
Spell of Blindness Page 6