Chapter 16 Chapter 7 Matryona (3)

She was thwarted and had no more questions to ask.Now she's done, he thought.He patted the bed and asked her to come to him. She lowered her head and moved closer to him.He put his arms around her; could feel her trembling.He stroked her hair and forehead.She finally gave in, pressed against his body, put her two fists under her chin, and sobbed loudly. "I don't understand," she said, sobbing. "Why did he have to die?" He wanted to say: he is not dead, he is here, I am him; but he could not say it. He thought of the seed continuing to live in the body for a period of time after the person's breathing stopped, but he didn't know that it would never bear fruit.

"I know you love him," he whispered hoarsely. "He knows it too. You have a good heart." How wonderful it would be to take out the seeds from the body, even if there is only one, and let it settle down!He thought of a small terracotta statue he had seen in the Ethnographic Museum in Berlin: it was Shiva, one of the three main gods of Hinduism, lying on his back as if dead, blue all over, and riding on him was a man with many The terrible goddess with her arms, her mouth wide open, her eyes like copper bells, looks ecstatic—the goddess is copulating with him, trying to suck out the holy seed from his body.

He could easily figure out the child's ecstasy.His imagination seemed to have no limits. He thought of a frozen dead baby, buried in an iron coffin under the snow, waiting for winter to pass and spring to come. Rape was limited to this point: the girl was lying in his arms, his five fingers gripping her shoulders so hard they were white and numb.But she could just as well be naked, lying with all fours sprawled.Like one of those girls who is submissive and willing to give herself.He thought of the child whores he had played here and in Germany; he thought of the men who sought out such girls because they found something to irritate them, something inviolable beneath the heavy make-up and provocative clothes. Sex, a certain virginity.She was a betrayal of the Virgin, one of the men had said, for he had detected a little innocence in the way the girl moved towards him with her legs spread apart and her breasts cupped.In that filthy tiny room she gave off a faint, hopeless smell of spring and flowers that he could not bear.He clenched his teeth, deliberately trying to touch her sore spot, hurt her again and again, and looked at her face from beginning to end, trying to see that the animal began to understand besides frowning and enduring the pain. A frightened expression that suddenly opens its eyes when its own life is in danger.

The hallucinations, the seizures, the imaginary tongue-twisting passed.He stroked her one last time, and withdrew his arm, returning to the way he had been with her before. "Are you going to erect a shrine?" she said. "I haven't thought about it." "You can set up a shrine in the corner and light a candle. Then you can put his picture in it. If you want, I can keep the candle alive for you while you're not here." "The shrine is permanent, Matryosha. Your mother will rent out the room after I leave." "When are you leaving?" "I haven't decided yet," he said, avoiding being set out by her.Then he said, "There is no end to the mourning of a dead child. Did you wish to hear me say that? I did. That's it."

Not knowing if it was because she noticed a change in his tone, or because he discovered a sensitive nerve, she flinched visibly. "If you die, your mother will miss you all your life." Then, to his own surprise, he added, "So do I." is that true?No, not yet; but it may soon be true. "Then may I light a candle for him?" "of course can." "And stay bright?" "Yes. But why do you think candles are so important?" Coy and uneasy, she said after a while, "In case he stays in the dark." Strange to say, sometimes he thought so too.A ship sailing the sea, a stormy night, a child who fell into the water.The child lapped the waves, barely afloat, screaming in terror, taking a few breaths, the child yelled at the passing boat.That boat had been his home, but it wasn't anymore.He stared at a light in the stern, a light in the wilderness of night and sea.As long as I can see that light, I am not lost.

"May I light a candle now?" she asked. "All you want. But don't put the picture there, not yet." She lit a candle and put it under the mirror.Then, with a confidence that astounded him, she returned to bed and laid her head on his arm.Together they looked at the steady candle flame.From the street below there was the sound of children playing and laughing.His fingers clenched her shoulders, holding her tightly.He could feel the soft young bones fold like a bird's wing.