Mara

by Mara (v5. 0) (epub)

  ‘Where was your mother?’

  ‘Invisible.’

  With that last word my tears could no longer be held back and I started to cry vehemently. With long, loud wails and a horrible noise. I sat on the floor with shaking shoulders. Speaking out loud of the doubts I had about my mother was harder than to tell her of what the Reverend had done. Auntie sat with me and held me, she shared my pain and her tears found their way down her rounded cheeks. When I calmed down she spoke again.

  ‘I’ll send hem away when they come.’

  I nodded gratefully.

  ‘I’ll have to send her away too.’ Auntie muttered and rose. My bones hurt from sitting on the floor, by eyes were sore from crying, my nose was plugged and my mouth dry from breathing. I realized that Auntie probably felt similar. Regardless, she stood up instantly.

  ‘Come.’

  She stretched her hands out to me to help me up. I hesitated. How could I possibly stand up and sit down on a chair, return to regular life as if nothing had happened?

  ‘Come, child.’

  I made a decision, ignored her outstretched arms, pushed off and stood up on my own, even though my knees creaked and my back protested. With my head hanging I walked to the table and sat down. I looked at the tablecloth and without thinking about it my fingers found three strands and started to twist them into a braid.

  My secret was no longer mine alone and I didn’t know if I would ever be able to look Auntie in the eye again. She squeezed me softly and I had the courage to glance up for a moment. Her eyes looked at me with such compassion, still filled with unshed tears. I quickly looked back at the tablecloth and pulled my hand back. Why had I told her?

  Again she held her hand out to me, this time with a handkerchief, and I gratefully took it from her. My head pounded and my nose was plugged as if with a bad cold. Blowing my nose didn’t bring much relief. There was so much left in my head, so much I hadn’t told her yet.

  I crumpled up the handkerchief and tucked it in the sleeve of my blouse. We sat at the kitchen table in silence, until Auntie spoke.

  ‘I need to do something and I need your help with it.’

  I nodded, of course, there was always work to be done on the farm and we had wasted enough time together already. I didn’t know what time it was, but no doubt Auntie did and it probably was time to milk the cows, or to knead dough, or to clear the dung passage.

  I pushed back my chair and got up, ready to help.

  ‘What can I do?’

  My voice was soft.

  Auntie bent down and picked the cake pan from the floor. She held it against the edge of the table and wiped a few more crumbs in to the pan, then she gave it to me.

  ‘Come along.’

  Auntie headed for the door and stepped into her wooden shoes, I picked up mine in the barn and stepped into them as well. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and took the cake pan from me for a moment so I could grab my shawl. Then she returned the cake to me and opened the barn door.

  I followed her across the yard toward the pig house and I followed her in. Why was I carrying a cake pan if we were going to feed the pigs?

  The dog came running and jumped barking against the door of the pig house when it closed behind me. Undoubtedly he had smelled the cake and had hoped to beg for some of it.

  ‘This is the only place for this cake,’ said Auntie. She pointed at the sows, lying about lazily in the pen.

  ‘I want you to do the honors.’

  My hesitation was only short lived, then I turned over the cake pan, and I saw the pieces fall into the feeding trough. Immediately the animals got up and came our way, snorting. What had been a beautiful round cake only this afternoon, was now gobbled up within seconds by hungry pigs. We watched in silence.

  When the last crumbs had disappeared, Auntie broke the silence.

  ‘If he wants cake, he’ll have to go and look for it here.’

  I sniveled a watery smile. I imagined how the Reverend would stand here in his black suit, right in the middle of the pigs dung, groping with his hands in their trough, fighting for a few crumbs of dirty cake.

  Together we returned the cake pan to the kitchen and had another cup of tea. It was strange, but we didn’t talk anymore about the things I had told her earlier that afternoon. We just chatted about nothing in particular and divided the chores that were left to be done that day. I could tell though that Auntie had been shocked by the things I had revealed to her. With mounting astonishment I watched her scoop five spoons full of sugar into her cup.

  I felt strange, my head felt heavy from crying and I felt a headache creeping up, but I also felt relieved that I no longer carried my secret alone, but now shared it with Auntie. We smiled at each other and when the teacups were empty and we got up to get back to work, Auntie hugged me without speaking a word.

  Auntie and I had agreed that I would muck out the stables and it felt good to be physically active. Gradually my head cleared, even though my temples kept thumping as a result of my tearful outburst. As I worked I calmed down. It was odd, my secret was out in the open now, but, no, I didn’t feel the humiliating shame that I had expected to feel.

  Twice Auntie came to see me and asked if everything was all right, both times she had brought something nice to eat for me. Her compassion warmed me. The first time she brought some dried apple slices and the second time she brought a piece of sausage. I wasn’t hungry, but I couldn’t say no to her, so I took them and ate them while she watched. We didn’t talk at all at those times, but we shared more than we ever had before since I had come to live here.

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  She nodded and left.

  I continued scooping up muck with renewed energy and I filled the wheelbarrow with the soiled straw. I always enjoyed mucking out the stable. When I had cleared the floor, I could spread out clean straw and I loved the smell of it. Sometimes I’d lie down on the straw for a little while after I finished, and I’d close my eyes while I’d fold stalk after stalk into little pieces and toss them away. Sometimes a piece of straw would split, sometimes it would break, and then again others had some curious elasticity and seemed impossible to break.

  This time also I laid down on the straw after I finished my work. But this time I left my hands folded on my stomach and I stared up at the beamed roof over my head. I my mind I heard the words I had spoken and saw the tears I had spilled on the kitchen floor, Auntie who had come to sit beside me. Her arms around me, the shock I could see on her face.

  For a moment I considered the pain Auntie must be feeling, finding out how wrong she had been about her brother-in-law and her sister. I knew she’d feel alone now, there was no other family, only me.

  And Mara.

  Would Auntie change her mind now that she knew my secret? Was it possible that Mara would be returned to me now?

  I closed my eyes and thought of the tiny body I had cradled in my arms, her sweet face turned to me in unconditional trust. Where was she now? I could see her sleeping in a cradle, her face perfectly at peace. But all of a sudden there were two large hands of a man, they lifted her out of the cradle and carried her away. I wanted to run after her and take her back, but the black figure was larger and faster than me. Bewildered, I called out her name while I kept running, but when he turned round and I saw his face I fell to the ground, defenseless, and I knew I could never win.

  With a start I sat up and looked around me. Mara. Straw. The Reverend. I heard the dog bark somewhere in the yard. I blinked my eyes and remembered that I was in the stables. There was no one else, no daughter, no Reverend.

  I trembled as I rose and I smoothed out my hair as best I could. My fingers felt weak as I pulled straw out of my hair and off my clothes. Would I forever mingle my memories of Mara with those of the Reverend?

  23

  I try to slow down time and hold on to the days, but they keep slipping through my fingers, mercilessly. With every passing day I feel the distance between me and Mara gro
w. I know that Auntie is alongside me now and tries to comfort me, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

  ‘Mara, I have to go to the village for a little while.’

  ‘But it’s almost evening.’ Don’t leave me alone, not now, not after everything I’ve told you. Or is that why you’re going? You don’t want to be in my company any longer than necessary?

  ‘Go on then.’ I looked out the window and avoided her eyes.

  ‘Would you like me to stay?’

  ‘No, not at all. On you go.’ My voice trembled and still sounded a bit hoarse after all the weeping from this afternoon. Auntie gave me another searching look, but then she picked up her basket and stepped outside.

  ‘I’ll be back very soon.’

  ‘See you then.’

  I walked after her and stopped in the yard to watch her go. She walked with a steady pace and turned once to wave at me. Listlessly I waved back, then I returned to the house. Lonely and deserted.

  Now I was all alone with my thoughts. They circled around Mara and the Reverend. I sat down in the kitchen with pen and paper. I had decided to write the Reverend a letter. Certainly he knew where Mara was and I wanted to make him tell me, so I could find her back. Slowly I started to write. I wanted to write a civil letter and tell him politely what I would do if he wouldn’t help me, but very quickly the words on the paper turned into terrible names and curses. My hatred for the Reverend seemed to leak out of my body just as the ink leaked out of the pen. Memories became images as real as life and I saw it all happen again before my eyes, but this time I was no longer silent. This time I screamed out all my impotence and anger at him.

  Black scratches appeared on the paper. Virginal purity forever defiled. A baby was hated, loved, born and lost. I tore the paper, dipped the pen too far into the inkwell and it spilled over. I wrote furious stripes and illegible words.

  ‘Maria, I’m back!’

  With a jolt I was shaken out of my reveries as I heard Auntie’s voice calling me across the barn. I looked up at what I had done and was stunned to find paper shredded to pieces, angry pen marks mixed with neat letters, all mingled into illegible smudges. The point of the pen had bent where I had pushed too hard and the tablecloth was soiled with ink marks.

  I could feel my cheeks flush red and I quickly stood up, gathered up the pieces of paper and held them for a minute, not knowing what to do with them. Before Auntie came in I threw them into the fire. I didn’t have time to do anything else. The pen and the ink told their own tale when Auntie opened the door and entered the kitchen.

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise when she saw me, still standing close to the stove.

  ‘There is ink on your cheek.’

  I wiped a hand over my cheek, but didn’t know where to wipe exactly. Auntie looked at the table. The pen was still there, so was the inkwell. Unused pages of writing paper were strewn about the table.

  ‘Did you write a letter?’

  I wanted to say yes, but the word got stuck in my throat, so I nodded.

  ‘I’ve stained the tablecloth,’ I finally managed to say. Auntie nodded and walked to the table. She gathered the pages into a neat pile and put the lid on the inkwell.

  ‘The pen is also bent.’

  She had noticed already, I thought, but I had to say it to her, I had to own up.

  ‘We’ll tidy this up and then we’ll eat.’

  Auntie was busy already and finally I managed to move and help her. I pulled the tablecloth off the table and folded it up. Monday we would wash it. Maybe the stains would come out.

  Auntie put a new tablecloth on the table and quickly added plates. I took the bread, butter, sausage, cheese and jam, and we sat down to eat.

  ‘I had forgotten all about the time, or I would have set the table already.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll just enjoy our meal. All is well.’

  Obediently I fell silent and watched how Auntie folded her hands and closed her eyes. As we were used to, I waited quietly for Auntie to finish her prayer. To my amazement Auntie suddenly began to pray out loud, thanking God for his good care. I wanted to protest and walk away, close my ears until she finished, but I remained seated, frozen.

  Her words reached my ears and quietly slipped in my head where they kept echoing in my mind, even when her voice had stopped. Care for Mara. Grant us wisdom and peace. Teach us forgiveness. Be our Father forever and ever.

  ‘Enjoy your meal, Mara.’

  Auntie nodded her head at me and served me first, then herself.

  ‘I phoned them.’

  I looked up at Auntie, startled out of my frozen state.

  ‘When?’

  ‘When I was in the village. I went to Reijer’s house and used his phone.’

  ‘What did the Reverend say?’

  ‘He wouldn’t hear of it, but I was adamant.’ Auntie was silent, took a bit and chewed. Then she said: ‘He wouldn’t let me talk to Anna.’

  No, of course not. He would never do that.

  ‘And what now?’

  ‘I don’t know. Nothing, I think. We’ll have to wait and trust in God.’

  ‘Did you ask him about Mara?’ I curled my toes underneath the table in nervous anticipation of her answer.

  ‘I asked, but he wouldn’t answer me.’

  I curled my toes even tighter under my feet. So tight that suddenly a painful cramp shot from my pinky toe right through my whole foot. I quickly tried to stretch my foot again, but it was as if the cramp held my foot in a vise.

  ‘Did you tell him anything?’

  The palms of my hand were sweaty, the pain in my foot slowly left and I had to ask questions.

  ‘Not too much. It’s not my place to condemn him, Maria. I told him he is no longer welcome in my house, especially not as long as you live here.’

  I took a bite to eat and considered her words. Would the Reverend be in fear after this phone call? My mind was blank as I finished my plate and helped Auntie to clear the table and wash the dishes.

  24

  I am more at peace and in a strange way also less depressed now that I have told Auntie my secret. The words that came from my mouth seemed to have carried away with them a heavy load. I have been relieved from that weight. Words were spoken and have been carried off by the wind, gone forever. Of course the memory remains, but it is as if it is covered in a fog, a thick blanket of fog that softens and shields. But maybe this feeling is only temporary? Still, I’m glad I’ve told Auntie everything. Every now and then we exchange a glance, and I know she understands. She really understands, even if she’ll never know the pain or feel the fear.

  I had put on the trousers that Auntie used when she cleared the dung passage. In the months before I gave birth she had forbidden me to help her with that chore because she believed the work was too heavy for a pregnant woman. After I had recuperated I told her that nothing could stop me now from helping and one day I had stepped onto the edge and started to scoop before she could do it herself. It had been heavy work indeed, and it was dirty work. The stink of urine mixed with cowpies was penetrating and made my eyes water.

  The very first time I helped I had worn my skirt, and after three full scoops I had slipped and ended up with my leg right in the dung. My wooden shoe had slipped away in the thick layer of manure and my sock and the hem of my skirt were heavy with filth. I tried to crawl back onto the edge, but slipped again and fell on my knees right into the dung. The cows ignored me, but the stench made my stomach turn. Auntie must have heard my screams, for she came running and her eyes searched round, bewildered. When she saw me she started to laugh. But she immediately came toward me and extended her hand to me to help me up. I didn’t dare to accept her help, my hands were too filthy, but I had no choice and Auntie encouraged me.

  ‘Go ahead, we’ll wash our hands in a minute.’

  ‘I’m filthy.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, come on.’

  Finally I took her outstretched hand and she pulled me up and helped
me onto the edge.

  ‘Hold on to me.’

  I put my hands on Auntie’s shoulders and we shuffled carefully along the edge back to steadier ground. My wooden shoes were slippery and I squeezed Auntie’s shoulders, afraid to slip again. The stench that hung about me was horrific and I didn’t dare look at Auntie. She didn’t seem to be bothered at all. She helped me strip and also brought the zinc tub to the kitchen. She filled a kettle with water to draw a bath for me. At first I wanted to refuse and suggest I wash myself with cold water, but the stench permeated everything and in the end I stepped into the kitchen. Despite the bath it took a week before the stench had fully disappeared from my nose.

  Since that day I knew that Auntie had a pair of trousers in the barn, which she wore when the dung passage had to be cleared. The trousers allowed more movement, and when I missed my footing the trousers did not become heavy and difficult to handle. The first time I wore the trousers I felt strange, as if I no longer was a woman, but someone without a gender, for I wasn’t a man either. But I got used to it quickly and enjoyed the freedom the trousers offered.

  I whistled as I emptied the dung passage and filled the wheelbarrow with manure. Afterwards I would spread the manure over the field, a chore I enjoyed. I whistled a tune that had stuck in my head since Auntie had sung it that morning. I knew that it was a hymn, but I hadn’t paid any attention to the words. Only the melody I remembered.

  ‘Good morning, Maria.’

  I started with a jolt and shakily straightened up. I almost lost my balance, but just managed to stabilize myself against the wall and in doing so avoided another dive into the dung.

  ‘Reijer.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re whistling a nice song.’

  I walked towards him and jumped off the edge.

  ‘I like the melody.’ In my mind I could hear him think that a woman like me was now also walking around in trousers and that things really couldn’t get much worse with me. I felt my cheeks flush, but I refused to let him know how I felt.