More: A Novel (9 page)

“How’s school?”

I was so taken aback that I babbled.

“It’s holidays, Dad.”

“I know that, kid! I want to know how it’s going—did you pass?”

“I got the letter of commendation, Dad.”

A few more bills were peeled away from the sheaf. It appeared that I was about to get an award. The world had really turned upside down! In my elation I’d forgotten to mention that I was top of the class. I’d forgotten to mention that, as a matter of fact, I’d even been handed a stupid book called
Robinson Crusoe
as a prize for having the highest average in the entire eighth grade. On a very insidious whim, I’d even considered mentioning that Ender, son of the Heroic Sergeant Yadigar, had gotten such bad grades that he was nearly expelled, but been unable to do even that and was left only thinking it.

“Well done!” said Ahad. For the second time! As though he was sparing my life. “What grade are you in now?”

How was it possible to hate someone this much but still want his approval just as much? How was it possible to house these two urges inside the same body? Who could know the suffering that was taking place inside me just then? The fight that was being fought? How violently they were laying into each other? What kind of a war was it? It was gruesome, surely. That must be why I was feeling nauseated. Yet the moment I opened my mouth, it was clear who the winner was:

“Ninth … first year of high school.”

Unable to gain dominion over the tongue, vanquished in a blind battle of denial, the hatred of the losing side withdrew into the barricades to multiply even more. I could hear its footsteps. It was going to search for a way out. And out it would go, at first chance. It would either become an act unleashed in a weak moment or a thousand curses to spew from my mouth. It would either land on Ahad or whomever else it would be that I happened upon … all hatred ended up at the same place in the end: tomorrow. It could wait. It would wait. I would wait with it. I was a true coward after all. And hatred was the coward’s vengeance. I was an expert! One blacked out, sank into his chair, and hated himself to death. But he would be the first to die. From a brain tumor! A vengeful tumor! A tumor the size of a marble! From too many fantasies of vengeance. Unfulfilled vengeances. Unfulfilled, vaporized vengeances. We breathed it all in! We’d absorb it through our pores if we could! The air of vengeances comprised of curses hurled behind backs … and a bit of oxygen. Not enough to kill. Enough that you’d still be good for something … Of course human life was sacred but only as long as it was good for something. Consequently life was only as valuable as the value of the thing it was good for. So if someone were to up and cover that cost, the life in question would thereby become redundant and expendable. It was all mathematics. Only subtraction, actually. If I could subtract my hate from this life and behold what was left, the whole story would be over. Because the only thing from then on would be daily life … and maybe some morphine sulfate.

“You’re old enough to be going to high school, already?”

“I dunno …”

“You’re old enough to hoist yourself on that girl, aren’t you, though!”

What had he just said? I hadn’t heard that!

“Come now, come now, don’t blush! I don’t mean anything by it, but you should be careful. You could catch a disease or something …”

I still couldn’t hear!

“Take it easy, kid! I said I don’t mean anything by it! But if you have to do shit like that, at least lock the door of the shed!”

That I’d heard. And only because there was a command in his words. It was habitual.

“I will …”

He laughed … How much had he seen? Had he watched until the end? I couldn’t think about this now. Later! I should be laughing. I should be doing whatever he was doing. I laughed. Or something close to it …

“You’re not mad at me that I didn’t let you take that exam?”

Presumably he was talking about the exam that would have won me a bursary to study at one of the finest high schools in the country. I had taken it without his knowledge. I myself didn’t know what I would do when the results were disclosed. Was it possible to leave Ahad? Was he leavable?

“No, Dad, how could I be?”

“What’d that son of Yadigar’s do, did he pass? Ender, was it?”

And then, this question. This question that made me forget it all. It was that easy, then! That he’d seen me have sex with the world’s beautiful girl, nor anything else, was exempt. It was all gone. I couldn’t believe it. It was as if he’d asked because he’d heard me. I recounted Ender’s ineptitude with such ardor that my drool wilted the piece of paper I’d written my list on. Truly, I was no different from Ahad. I was just as indifferent to everything as he was. It was just taking a while for me to face the facts, that was all. One needed time not only to adapt to the world he was born into, but to himself as well.

Then I took the money and left … It was enough to flee anywhere on the first bus. But I returned with the equipment. My hands were full, my mind empty. Then it was the opposite, and I got to work in the reservoir like a veteran electrician. I did my best and still didn’t receive an electric shock. I knew then that I was electric. If I had a dog, I would have named it Tesla. Or vice versa …

I was in the reservoir day and night for two weeks, and finally the gates opened on hunting season with all their glory. My ant farm was ready. And it was erected on just the place, the ants’ route: the Silk Road … a matter of fabrics!

Right on the morning of the day I was planning to promote myself to deity of a reservoir full of people, Yadigar crossed my path. I’d been shopping in town and was on my way home with bags of groceries. He didn’t cross my path, exactly. He pulled up next to me his blue car with G
ENDARMERIE
inscribed on the side and rolled down his window. Looking perfectly healthy from where I stood, since his burned cheek was facing the other way, Yadigar glanced at the bags I was carrying as he spoke.

“What’s all this? Got visitors?”

Among the many things I was able to do effortlessly and while standing on one foot was, of course, lying.

“There’s this family in need, in one of the villages. It’s for them. My father said go buy some things … so I got this. We’ll be taking it over now.”

“Good of you to think,” said Yadigar.

Then he was silent. But Yadigar had a peculiar habit. He’d say something, then stop and stare you in the face. As a man of few words and much staring, he was like some kind of champion unnerver. Or it seemed that way to me. I was the one with the kind of life to hide, after all. What did he mean to say? It was good of us to lie? What was good of us to think? Would that be all? Were we done talking? Could I resume walking? In truth the only thing that gave me hope at that moment was that his engine was still running. It’s possible no engine sound since has given me such strength.

I was just about to say, “Give Ender my regards,” and take the first step when he asked, “What village?”

“I don’t know, Uncle Yadigar,” I said. “My father said, but I forget now.”

My only hope dried up the instant I had thought my reply would suffice. Yadigar turned off the ignition and killed the engine. It appeared that we would keep talking.

“We should let the prefecture know. Maybe they’ll put you on an allowance or something.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get the details and let you know.”

After all, poverty was within an arm’s reach for us all. An elbow’s reach, in fact. As soon as we began groping for a family in need, we’d bump into one before we even finished reaching out our hand. If there was the need, we could easily find one and stick it under Yadigar’s nose. But right now the only thing bumping was my heart. It was like a wild animal trapped inside my rib cage. The bags were heavy, but I didn’t want to put them down. After being abandoned by the sound of the engine, it was the only move I had left, however puny. Putting down the bags would be a sign that I was willing to continue chatting. At least that’s what I thought. This juvenile, private precaution prevented me from wiping the sweat off my brow, as both my hands were full. And now Yadigar was staring at the sweat. He was watching a particular drop of sweat. The one trickling between my eyebrows and heading for my nose. It had reached the tip of my nose and begun quivering there when Yadigar finally spoke.

“It’s hot!”

“I should go, Uncle Yadigar, my father’s waiting.”

“Come, let me drop you off.”

“Thanks, I’m already almost there.”

He opened the door and got out. I had nowhere to run.

“Give it here,” he said, taking the bags off my hands and opening the door to put them in the backseat. I was frozen, at a loss for what to do. It was my turn to talk little and stare much. Yadigar took his seat, shut the door, and turned to me. “Come on.”

There was to be no zeppelin to swing down a ladder and lift me into the sky, nor a horse that would materialize out of nowhere and come running the second I whistled. All those adventure novels I had read were a bunch of crap! I was the only thing that was real! Even an earthquake would have been enough! An earthquake just strong enough to flatten a few villages, kill a bunch of people! But that didn’t happen either, and I was the only one who shook. And that only because I slammed the door a bit too hard when I crossed in front of the car and got in next to Yadigar …

This time the only thing I could see was his nonexistent cheek. How fast can a person think? What’s the speed of thought? I had no idea, but I was trying to calculate everything at once. We’d make a little way, turn into Dust Street, and arrive at the house. Perhaps I should jump out of the car as it slowed to a stop and yell, “Dad! Dad! We’re home!” Perhaps I should pretend to faint. Perhaps I should rat out Ender for having started smoking! All this was racing through my head when I saw Yadigar give the steering wheel a full turn. We spun in our spot until the nose of the car was pointing at the town. The opposite direction of my house. I turned to him, but he was no longer interested in me.

“Uncle Yadigar, my house …” I began, and he said, “There’s something I have to do. Let’s take care of that first.”

I was relieved. The animal in my rib cage was somewhat tamed. Whatever it was he had to do, I could maybe find a way to call my father while he did it. I could go into some store or another to call him. We went into town and cruised through the shopping street. I was expecting him to slow down. But he didn’t. His only possible destination from here on was the Gendarmerie’s station at the other exit of the town. That was where he went and stopped in front of. He turned off the ignition, stared at my face for a half minute before saying, “Come,” and got out of the car. Since I couldn’t lock myself inside the car and stay there until I died, I had no choice but to get out as well.

For a split second, I glimpsed the guard on duty stand fast and salute Yadigar as he walked past. He must be so scared of Yadigar he couldn’t even take his eyes off him. When I climbed the five steps to the entrance of the building and turned back to look, he was still watching us. I wish I hadn’t looked! For the fear in that private’s eyes reinforced mine to start punching the walls of my rib cage all over again. All I could do was follow Yadigar. He was two steps ahead. I felt as if everyone was looking at me. The handcuffed man that we walked past and the soldiers on either side of him and everyone.

We passed through a hall and approached a set of stairs. We went down the steps and entered yet another hall. A short one. There was a pair of iron doors at the end. Stopping in front of the one on the left, Yadigar took out a set of keys from his pocket and opened it. As he was in the way, I couldn’t see what was inside.

Yadigar turned and looked at me. “Go in,” he said. He took me by the shoulder and pushed me in, and only then I could see what was inside. There was nothing. It was a cell. I took two steps and stopped. Yadigar’s hand was still on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at his face over that shoulder. “You just wait here a bit now,” he said.

So at a loss for words I was that I could only ask the most stupid question in the world: “Here?”

“I’ll come pick you up once I get this thing done. Then I’ll drop you off, all right?”

Would it have helped then if I cried “help”? Or would that just get me murdered by a lunatic named Imdat?
¹
I’d found myself in such unreasonable circumstances that anything was possible. Yadigar made two moves. In one he stepped out of the cell, and in the second he locked closed the door. Next I heard the sound of a key. A key that spun inside a lock and was briskly withdrawn …

I don’t know why, but the first thing I did was hang my head. That was when I saw the sawdust. Around my feet … another sawdust swamp … I felt like I would sink into it and suffocate. Perhaps that would have been for the better. Yet unlike Dordor and Harmin, I was capable of staying aboveground, always. I could never sink. At least, that was what I thought then … but none of that mattered now. I was really inside a cell. What’s more, I certainly didn’t know what I was in there for. I thought that we’d been caught, of course. Of course I was certain that our whole web of crime had been uncovered and that I’d rot in jail for years! But all I wanted was to rot outside! There was only a steel bench in the cell. And some writing on the walls, and some jumbled drawings. It didn’t even have a window. That was when I noticed the lightbulb over my head. It was similar to the one we had in the reservoir. I hadn’t been paying attention when Yadigar presumably turned it on when he opened the door. Perhaps it had been on the whole time. Our lives were ruined, and I was standing there, staring at the lightbulb.

“All right!” I said. “All right, calm down!” And I tried to calm myself. This I tried to do by walking. As I paced the cell, tracing the walls, I continuously reminded myself of my age. “Who’s going to do anything to you?” I reasoned. “Let’s say you went on trial, how many years would you get anyway? You’re not even eighteen!”

Then I began pacing faster and was completely convinced I’d be in jail till I croaked. As a bonus I’d get convicted of rape! Nothing would be left unseen, and that, too, would be exposed! And it wasn’t even rape! It was just a person’s self-sacrifice unto me in keeping with the circumstances. Or others’ sacrifice, whatever. But who’d listen to me? And the worst came last: attempted mass slaughter! Because I’d turned on the valve!