Everything Is Illuminated (30 page)

(
See
Y
ANKEL
D'
S
S
HAMEFUL
B
EAD
)

T
HE
F
IVE
G
ENERATIONS
B
ETWEEN
B
ROD AND
S
AFRAN

Brod had three sons with the Kolker, all named Yankel. The first two died in the flour mill, victims, like their father, of the disk saw.
(See
A
PPENDIX
G:
U
NTIMELY
Deaths.) The third Yankel, conceived through the hole after the Kolker's exile, lived a long and productive life, which included many experiences, feelings, and small accumulations of wisdom, about which none of us will ever know. This Yankel begot Trachimkolker. Trachimkolker begot Safranbrod. Safranbrod begot Trachimyankel. Trachimyankel begot Kolkerbrod. Kolkerbrod begot Safran. For so it is written:
AND IF WE ARE TO STRIVE FOR A BETTER FUTURE, MUSTN'T WE BE FAMILIAR AND RECONCILED WITH OUR PAST?

B
ROD'S
613 S
ADNESSES

The following encyclopedia of sadness was found on the body of Brod D. The original 613 sadnesses, written in her diary, corresponded to the 613 commandments of our (not their) Torah. Shown below is what was salvageable after Brod was recovered. (Her diary's wet pages printed the sadnesses onto her body. Only a small fraction [55] were legible. The other 558 sadnesses are lost forever, and it is hoped that, without knowing what they are, no one will have to experience them.) The diary from which they came was never found.

SADNESSES OF THE BODY:
Mirror sadness; Sadness of [looking] like or unlike one's parent; Sadness of not knowing if your body is normal; Sadness of knowing your [body is] not normal; Sadness of knowing your body is normal; Beauty sadness; Sadness of m[ak]eup; Sadness of physical pain; Pins-and-[needles sadness]; Sadness of clothes
[sic];
Sadness of the quavering eyelid; Sadness of a missing rib; Noticeable sad[ness]; Sadness of going unnoticed; The sadness of having genitals that are not like those of your lover; The sadness of having genitals that are like those of your lover; Sadness of hands...

SADNESSES OF THE COVENANT:
Sadness of God's love; Sadness of God's back [sic]; Favorite-child sadness; Sadness of b[ein]g sad in front of one's God; Sadness of the opposite of belief
[sic];
What if? sadness; Sadness of God alone in heaven; Sadness of a God who would need people to pray to Him...

SADNESSES OF THE INTELLECT:
Sadness of being misunderstood [sic]; Humor sadness; Sadness of love wit[hou]t release; Sadne[ss of be]ing smart; Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean]; Sadness of having options; Sadness of wanting sadness; Sadness of confusion; Sadness of domes[tic]ated birds; Sadness of fini[shi]ng a book; Sadness of remembering; Sadness of forgetting; Anxiety sadness...

INTERPERSONAL SADNESSES:
Sadness of being sad in front of one's parent; Sa[dn]ess of false love; Sadness of love
[sic];
Friendship sadness; Sadness of a bad conversation; Sadness of the could-have-been; Secret sadness...

SADNESSES OF SEX AND ART:
Sadness of arousal being an unordinary physical state; Sadness of feeling the need to create beautiful things; Sadness of the anus; Sadness of eye contact during fellatio and cunnilingus; Kissing sadness; Sadness of moving too quickly; Sadness of not mo[vi]ng; Nude model sadness; Sadness of portraiture; Sadness of Pinchas T's only notable paper, "To the Dust: From Man You Came and to Man You Shall Return," in which he argued it would be possible, in theory, for life and art to be reversed...

We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing...
We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing ... We are writing...

24 December 1997

Dear Jonathan,

Let us not mention each other's writing ever again. I will post you my story, and I beg of you (as does Little Igor) that you continue to post yours, but let us not make corrections or even observations. Let us not praise or reproach. Let us not judge at all. We are outside of that already.

We are talking now, Jonathan, together, and not apart. We are with each other, working on the same story, and I am certain that you can also feel it. Do you know that I am the Gypsy girl and you are Safran, and that I am Kolker and you are Brod, and that I am your grandmother and you are Grandfather, and that I am Alex and you are you, and that I am you and you are me? Do you not comprehend that we can bring each other safety and peace? When we were under the stars in Trachimbrod, did you not feel it then? Do not present not-truths to me. Not to me.

And here, Jonathan, is a story for you. A faithful story. I informed Father that I was to go to a famous nightclub last night. He said, "I am certain that you will return home with a comrade?" If you want to know what was on his mouth, vodka was. "I do not intend to," I said. "You will be so so carnal," he said, laughing. He touched me on the shoulder, and I will tell you that it felt like a touch from the devil. I was most ashamed of us. "No," I said. "I am only going to dance and be amid my friends." "Shapka, Shapka." "Shut up!" I told him, and I seized his wrist. I will inform you that this was the first occasion that I have ever uttered anything like this to him, and the first occasion that I have ever moved at him with violence. "I am sorry," I said, and let his wrist free. "I will make you sorry," he said. I was a lucky person because he had so much vodka in him that he did not have regard enough to punch me.

I did not go to a famous nightclub, of course. As I have mentioned, I often inform Father that I will go to a famous nightclub, but then I go to the beach. I do not go to a famous nightclub so that I can deposit my currency in the cookie box for moving to America with Little Igor. But I must inform you that it is also because I do not love famous nightclubs. They make me feel very cheerless and abandoned. Am I applying that word correctly? Abandoned?

The beach was beautiful last night, but this did not surprise me. I love sitting on the edge of the land and feeling the water verge me, and then leave me. Sometimes I remove my shoes and put my feet where I think the water will approach to. I have attempted to think about America in regard to where I am on the beach. I imagine a line, a white line, painted on the sand and on the ocean, from me to you.

I was sitting on the edge of the water, thinking about you, and us, when I heard a thing. The thing was nor water, nor wind, nor insects. I turned my head to see what it was. Someone was walking to me. This scared me very much, because I never behold another person at the beach when I am there at night. There was nothing proximal to me, nothing to be walking to but me. I put on my shoes and began to walk away from this person. Was he a police? The police will often make advantages on people who are sitting alone. Was he a criminal? I was not very scared of a criminal, because they do not have premium weapons, and cannot inflict very much. Unless the criminal is a police. I could hear that the person was still coming to me. I made a more rapid walk. The person pursued me with speed. I did not look again to attempt to witness who it was, because I did not want the person to know that I was apprised of him. It sounded to my ears like he was getting closer, that he would soon reach me, so I began to run.

Then I heard, "Sasha!" I terminated my running. "Sasha, is that you?
"

I turned around. Grandfather was bended over with his hand on his stomach. I could see that he was manufacturing very large breaths. "I was looking for you," he said. I could not understand how he knew to look for me at the beach. As I informed you, nobody is aware that I go to the beach at night. "I am here," I said, which sounded queer, but I did not know what else to say. He stood up and said, "I have a question.
"

It was the first occasion that I could remember when Grandfather ad
dressed me without something amid us. There was no Father, no hero, no bitch, no television, no food. Merely us. "What is it?" I asked, because I could perceive that he would not be able to ask his question unless I aided him. "I have to ask you for something, but you must comprehend that I am only asking to borrow this thing, and you also must comprehend that you can deny me and I will not be injured or think anything bad of you." "What is it?" I could not think of anything that I possessed that Grandfather would desire. I could not think of anything in the world that Grandfather would desire.

"
I would like to borrow your currency," he said. In truth I felt very shamed. He did not toil his whole life in order that he should have to ask his grandson for currency. "I will," I said. And I should have uttered nothing more, and allowed my "I will" to speak for everything that I have ever had to say to Grandfather, for the "I will" to be all of my questions, and all of his answers to those questions, and all of my answers to those answers. But this was not possible. "Why?" I asked.

"
Why what?
"

"
Why do you desire my currency?
"

"
Because I do not have a sufficient sum.
"

"
For what? For what do you need currency?
"

He turned his head to the water and did not say a thing. Was this his answer? He moved his foot in the sand and made a circle.

"
I am unequivocal that I can find her," he said. "Four days. Perhaps five. But it could not require more than a week. We were very near.
"

I should have again said "I will," and again not said anything more. I should have esteemed that Grandfather is much more aged than me, and because of this he is wiser, and if not that, then he deserves to have me not question him. But instead I said, "No. We were not near.
"

"
Yes," he said, "we were.
"

"
No. We were not five days from finding her. We were fifty years from finding her.
"

"
It is a thing that I must do.
"

"
Why?
"

"
You would not understand.
"

"
But I would. I do.
"

"
No, you could not
"

"
Herschel?
"

He drew another circle with his foot.

"
Then take me with you," I said. I was not intending to say that.

"
No," he said.

I desired to say it again, "Take me with you," but I knew that he would have answered again, "No," and I do not think I could have heard that without crying, and I know that I cannot cry in view of Grandfather.

"
It is not necessary for you to decide now," he said. "I did not think that you would decide rapidly. I anticipate that you will say no.
"

"
Why do you think I will say no?
"

"
Because you do not understand.
"

"
I do.
"

"
No, you do not.
"

"
It is possible that I will say yes.
"

"
I would give you any possession of mine that you desire. It can be yours until I restore the currency to you, which will be soon
"

"
Take me with you," I said, and again I did not intend to say it, but it re-leased from my mouth, like the articles from Trachim's wagon.

"
No," he said.

"
Please," I said. "It will be less rigid with me. I could assist very much.
"

"
I need to find her alone," he said, and at that moment I was certain that if I gave Grandfather the currency and allowed him to go, I would never see him again.

"
Take Little Igor.
"

"
No," he said. "Alone."No words. And then: "Do not inform Father.
"

"
Of course," I said, because of course I would not inform Father.

"
This must be our secret.
"

It is this last thing that he said that left the most permanent mark on my brain. It had not occurred to me until he uttered it, but we have a secret. We have a thing amid us that no one else in the world knows, or could know. We have a secret together, and no longer asunder.

I informed him that I would rapidly present him with my answer.

I do not know what to do, Jonathan, and would desire for you to tell me
what you think is the right thing. I know that it is not necessary that there be one right thing. There may be two right things. There may be no right things. I will consider what you deem. This is a promise. But I cannot promise that I will harmonize. There are things that you could not know. (And also, of course, I will have made my decision by the time you receive this letter. We have always communicated in this misplaced time.)

I am not a foolish person. I know that Grandfather will never be able to restore the currency. This signifies that I will not be able to move myself and Little Igor to America. Our dreams cannot exist at the same time. I am so young, and he is so aged, and both of these facts should make us people who are deserving of their dreams, but this is not a possibility.

I am certain of what you will utter. You will utter, "Let me give you the currency." You will utter, "You can return the currency when you have it, or you can never return the currency, and it will not be mentioned again." I know you will utter this because I know that you are a good person. But this is not acceptable. For the same reason that Grandfather cannot take me with him on his voyage, I cannot take the currency from you. This is about choosing. Can you understand? Please attempt to. You are the only person who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.

I will expect for your letter with anticipation.

Guilelessly,
Alexander