“Mamma coming?”
“Stop that.”
“Mamma coming?”
“I said don’t cry! Stop that! Or why not, go ahead and cry. It will pass.”
BASTARD! WHERE IS he going with my baby?
I won’t lose you! I won’t get lost, and I won’t slow down, even if I can’t feel my legs and my blisters are burning, and tears are flowing down my face. I can see them, far ahead. The bastard is speeding up; now he’s disappearing behind a pile of rocks. Don’t be afraid, Marina, don’t give up. I’ll call out to them.
“Marco! Marco!”
Don’t scream, stay strong, focus. Don’t lose your head. He’s your baby, and that man has no proof, the police didn’t believe him. He thinks he can blackmail me. There are signs along the trail, follow them. Keep going, don’t cry, think.
It will take time, but you’ll get there and you’ll turn him in to the police. The sun is shining, just follow the markings.
You were strong as a girl, when did you get so weak? How could you do what you did? It doesn’t matter, don’t think about it, it never happened. I must be stronger than he is; otherwise he’ll have me in the palm of his hand. He hates women, he’s a psychopath. I call out: “Marco, Marco!”
He won’t hurt the boy. I am the enemy in his eyes. I collapse onto a boulder. I can see the whole scene in my head.
Marco is crying, he won’t stop. He has blood on his head. I slip, and now we’re both on the ground, amid shards of glass, oil, and wine. I can’t get up, I don’t have the strength. Trapped in my own dark tunnel, suddenly I go blank, blind, and I hit his head against the table. I did it. His mother.
There are rocks everywhere, and dust. The sky is icy and pale. There’s no one around. Can’t I fix what I’ve done? Can I go back in time?
LOOKING OVER PHOTOS in the album, it all seems easy. For his second birthday, I baked a cake, and the house was full of children. A big success.
At night he would wake up, sometimes every hour. I sat on the floor next to his bed. My back hurt, I was sleepy, and I sang to him. I couldn’t bring him into the big bed with me, it’s not allowed. I would take him to the park in the morning, and then again in the afternoon so he could tire himself out. This was our world. Two more carousel rides, only two, or we’ll be late. Don’t put rocks in your mouth. What am I doing wrong? What was my mistake?
I tried to plan ahead for all the potential problems so I wouldn’t be taken by surprise, but it didn’t work. I was too distracted, just like when I was a little girl.
“Marina, what are you dreaming about? Where are you?”
“I’m here, Mamma.”
I must organize my thoughts, concentrate, prepare: do the groceries, cook, sleep, come home, go to the park, organize parties, take care of him when he has the flu, call the doctor. Then there’s Mario, my mother, my sisters, happiness, judgment.
ONE DAY WE came back from the park with the stroller—just like every other day—with the groceries. Called the elevator, looked for the keys. Where are the keys? I’ve locked myself out again.
I sat on the floor of the elevator—like I am sitting today on these rocks—and cried. This is all women are good for. I’ve heard it time and again. The baby stared at me and grabbed a package of cookies from the grocery bag. He bit into it; he was hungry. I knew exactly what Mario would say.
“Again! Go to your mother’s and wait for me there.”
And my mother: “Locked out, again? Marina, where is your head?”
They’ll never know; I refuse to tell them.
The baby started to cry.
“Let go of those cookies!”
We got out of the elevator with our groceries. The baby was crying. We went to the locksmith.
“I want you to open this goddamned door with a credit card, like a thief.”
He came with me, opened the door, and finally I was inside, safe. Mario would never know.
The locksmith stared at me with compassion. I could fall in love with a man like that, a plumber, an electrician, a builder, a locksmith, a mechanic. Before making love he would fix the door, the washing machine, the car motor.
It was late. The baby was asleep in the stroller, with the bag of cookies still in his hands, unopened. I could have let him eat a few cookies before lunch, but it’s not allowed because it spoils his appetite. Now it was too late to eat. Too late for everything.
GET UP. WALK. Catch up. He ran off with your baby.
I see a bird in the sky, flying above the mountaintops. Is it an eagle? It never stops. I wonder what it sees from the icy heights? A landscape of rocks, mountain peaks. A woman sitting on a boulder.
Why am I crying? The baby is with him. You’re free. Go back to the town, pick up a few things, and leave. Flag down a car on the road.
Stop at a hotel and sleep for two days. When you wake up, decide where to go, and with whom. Confess: “I give up. I’m not up to it. I don’t know how to be a mother.”
Mario can take care of the baby. During the day he could leave him with my mother and then pick him up in the evenings. My sisters would take him to the seaside. I could live anywhere, in a little house, with a job, money of my own. I would go to the movies and on long walks and I could have a man if I wanted, or live by myself, in peace and quiet. Like this spot. I could let my thoughts wander, daydream. Stories, loves, parties … And no one would get hurt.
At night, if I missed him, I could look at a photo, the one where he’s wearing a red sweater. I would look at the photo and talk to him.
It would be better for everyone. Papà would read you stories. Grandma would help out, and your aunties too. You wouldn’t want for anything. And I wouldn’t be able to hurt you. It’s right that I should only have a photograph.
“ARE YOU FEELING all right?”
Who are these people? I didn’t see them arrive. A man and a woman. The Austrians from the gondola. No, Italians. A young girl stands silently to one side, watching me.
“I need to catch up with my son and the guide. I stopped to rest and now I don’t know the way.”
“Were they headed toward the lodge?”
“Yes.”
“We’re going that way. Come with us.”
I stand up and look at the sky. The eagle is gone. The sky is empty.
10
THE LODGE IS a two-story building made of stone and wood. This is the place from which his mother fled. There are flowers in the windows, and billowing curtains. In the winter it must be covered in fog. Like a mirage; it looks close, but then you walk and walk and you never get there. Now I feel like I could keep going for hours. I can’t feel my legs or my feet.
He’s not outside; maybe he’s inside with Marco. During the climb I planned my revenge. I dried my tears. He’ll never see me cry again. No more crying, yelling, complaining, making excuses. I must stand firm if I want to keep my baby.
On the way there, I talked to the couple and their young daughter.
“How old are you?”
“What class are you in?”
“You’re a good walker.”
“She’s used to it—we’ve always taken her with us, even when she was little.”
“How clever of you.”
They asked me about Marco. I answered as if everything were perfectly normal.
“How far are we from the lodge?”
I’d like to ask after every turn, but I don’t. I grin and bear it; I’m strong, and the hatred I feel sustains me. I’ll confront him, and I won’t let him blackmail me.
When I was young I knew how to be cruel, and no one got the better of me. When the baby was born, I forgot how to be cruel. If you can’t be cruel when you need to, you become cruel for real. We came to a stop in front of the lodge.
“Here we are.”
“Are you going in?”
“We’re heading up to the lake. We brought sandwiches.”
I go up three stone steps. I stop in front of a window on the porch to check my reflection. I�
��m flushed, my hair is a mess; I look terrible. I fix my hair, take a handkerchief out of my bag, and wipe off the sweat. I have lipstick with me; I apply a thin layer to my lips. He’ll be in shock.
I used to check my reflection in the shop windows on my way to school. I was never sure if I looked quite right, not too showy but not too dull.
I open the door and think of his mother’s hand on that same door, the night she left. I imagine that I am his mother, come back to face my sons and husband.
Jackets hang from hooks in the hall. A stuffed woodchuck stands on its hind legs, staring at nothing, next to an old wooden sled. I hear a joyful clamor coming from the dining room. I stand in the doorway but I can’t see them. There are people eating and talking at the tables. Behind the counter, two women serve drinks. Glassy-eyed elk and deer heads line the stone walls. He’s at the last table, near the window, between another man and Marco. My baby has a napkin tied around his neck and he’s eating spaghetti with his hands. His face is red with sauce. He has already forgotten me.
“THERE SHE IS. She made it.”
“What did you expect, Manfred?”
Look at her, she’s smiling. She’s lost her marbles.
“What are you going to do, Manfred?”
“She has to confess, Albert, in front of a witness.”
“It’s none of your business. Why do you want to get mixed up in this? Who’s going to believe you?”
“That’s why she has to confess.”
She walks calmly among the tables. She has even put on some makeup. People stare. What does she want? She leans over to kiss the baby.
“Hello, darling, how are you? Poor thing, you were hungry!”
Smile, Marina. Look friendly. “Thank you for carrying him all that way. He was ravenous, and I was so slow! I’m completely out of shape.”
Smile at the man next to him as well. Hold out your hand. Everything must look normal, a meeting between civilized people.
“Hello, I’m Marina, Marco’s mother.”
“Albert, Manfred’s brother.”
The other brother, the one who owns the lodge. I’ll bet he didn’t have the guts to say anything.
She sits down as if nothing has happened, picks up the boy, and begins to feed him. Talk, talk.
“I exercise, but I wasn’t prepared for the climb. By the way, I ran into two hikers, and they told me that it wasn’t a shortcut at all! In fact, they said it’s five kilometers longer that way. I guess your brother was trying to put me to the test. Now I feel strong, and it was such a pleasant hike! The mountain was so beautiful under the sun.”
She kisses the boy and cleans his face.
“Was it good?”
She’s crazy.
“He cried a little, but then he stopped.”
“When he didn’t see me, of course he cried. Maybe I should have waved, to let him know you were going away. But I didn’t have the time. You disappeared so quickly.”
They’re listening. Don’t stop now.
“Children have no sense of time. If their mother disappears for an hour, to them it’s as if she’d left forever. They think she won’t come back, that they’ve been abandoned. There’s nothing more terrifying.”
The brother is staring at me with interest.
“Did you study child psychology?”
Psychology! Albert has lost his mind. I just told him what she did to her son.
“No, but when I was pregnant with Marco I read a lot of books. I wanted to be ready to be a mother. It’s the same for men too. Do you have children?”
“Yes, three. Two boys and a girl.”
“Do they live here at the lodge?”
“Yes.”
“They must not have many friends to play with up here.”
“They don’t really need them. When they go to school they play among themselves. We grew up the same way.”
“Do you have good memories?”
“We were free, and we could go wherever we liked.”
What is she aiming at? And Albert keeps answering her questions.
You thought you’d defeated me, you bastard, but you don’t know me. Marco holds his fork out to me and offers me some cold spaghetti.
“Thank you, my darling, but I’m not hungry.”
Keep talking to the brother, Marina, just act like he doesn’t exist.
“You’re right. They’re free here, and the air is clean, and it’s quiet.”
I’ll make you shut up, you foolish woman.
“Exactly. The dangers lie in the city, in people’s homes.”
Don’t look at him, don’t answer. Just ignore him.
“Manfred helped me when Marco hurt his head. He must have told you. He drove us to the hospital and took care of us. I was in such a terrible state! I couldn’t remember anything and I could barely speak. I must not have made a very good impression! I was so afraid that he was badly hurt! I’m so grateful for his help. And now he’s brought us here. It’s a beautiful spot. Isolated but beautiful. I wonder if I could live in a place like this. Does your wife enjoy living here?”
“She’s used to it.”
“Is she one of the two women behind the bar?”
“Yes, the one with the dark hair.”
“Excuse me, I need to change Marco. He’s wet. Where can I take him?”
“The bathroom is downstairs. Take the stairs by the door.”
I pick up the boy and squeeze him in my arms as I walk between the tables. My boy.
“MANFRED, DO YOU want to send away every woman you meet? You should see a doctor.”
“She’s just playing the role of the good mother for your benefit. That’s all she does all day long. Albert, listen to me: I came into the kitchen, the baby was on the floor, out cold, lying in broken glass, with blood on his head. And she was hiding.”
“She was terrified, like she said.”
“Just think for a moment: the baby cried, she screamed, then there was a bang, and then nothing.”
“Something similar happened to Bianca.”
“What?”
“Silvia cries all the time, as you know. She’s the youngest, the only girl, and we spoil her. One day Bianca spanked her and she started to cry. She wouldn’t stop. She ran away, crying, slipped, and banged her head. I found Bianca sitting on a chair staring at her. Blood was pouring out of the child’s head.”
“And what if you’d been outside, banging on the door like crazy? Wouldn’t Bianca have opened the door?”
“Manfred, forget about it. That woman has read all sorts of books, she knows more than you or I. You haven’t gotten over what happened with Luna.”
“Explain this to me: I walk off with her baby and leave her on the mountain by herself and she yells at us to wait for her. But now she strolls in, perfectly calm. Even thanks me for carrying him up here and feeding him. ‘So kind of you,’ she says.”
“So?”
“She has something to hide. If someone did that with one of my children, I’d punch him.”
“Because you’re crazy, Manfred. That’s why Luna left you.”
“YOU’RE ALL WET, even your pants! But your cheeks are nice and pink.”
“Pink.”
“Yes, pink! Were you scared without your mamma?”
He stares at me in silence. What are they thinking when they do that? Will he forget that night, in the kitchen?
“Hold still, I’m almost done.”
The door opens and I turn around. The brown-haired woman from the bar, the brother’s wife, is standing there.
“You can come over to our place. It’s not very comfortable in here, or clean.”
“Thank you, I’m almost done.”
“No, please, come.”
“All right, thank you then. I have to change him completely; his pants are wet. You’re Manfred’s brother’s wife, aren’t you?”
“Bianca, Albert’s wife.”
We go up the stairs. I follow her. On the second floor I glance down the dark
, narrow hallway.
“These are the guest rooms. Our apartment is upstairs.”
She opens a door like the others, and we step into their apartment. It’s clean, with lots of blond wood.
“How lovely it is here.”
“We just redid the apartment. The rest of the lodge is old and has never been renovated. It’s expensive. You can change him there.”
“Thank you.”
The house is pleasant. There are three beds, and lots of toys. They sleep together, as I did with my sisters. I’d like to lie down and be protected by this kind woman. I don’t want to be alone with Marco anymore.
“Albert said to tell you …”
I look up at her.
“That he apologizes on his brother’s behalf.”
“Manfred?”
“Yes. For taking the boy, bringing him up here, and leaving you along the way. He has crazy ideas. He’s not really crazy; it’s just that his wife left him and took the kids. Manfred suffered a lot. He’s angry with women, all of them.”
“I noticed.”
We laugh.
“When he comes up here, he barely says hello to me and just asks where his brother is. I’d like to hear about his kids, Simon and Clara. They grew up here, and I care for them. Luna used to bring them up here to play with our kids, and we miss them. Luna and I were friends. The Sanes are all quiet types, but Manfred is a real bear. Let me get you a clean towel.”
She leaves the room.
I don’t have to avenge myself. This time it’s he who took a false step. He could have blackmailed me and forced me to talk, and maybe I would have succumbed. But he didn’t have the courage to confront me. No one believes him. He’s crazy and he hates women.
Bianca hands me a towel.
“You can hang his pants to dry on the balcony.”
“Thank you.”
The bathroom is neat, the kitchen is all wood, and there are geraniums on the balcony. I don’t want to go back to the apartment in town, with Manfred downstairs. I’m afraid of the kitchen now. I can see the broken bottles on the floor, oil and wine everywhere, the baby with his eyes closed, blood. I can still smell the wine.
When the Night Page 7