Sworn Virgin (3 page)

‘You were the top student in high school.'

Lila starts laughing. ‘And you're the biggest liar in the northern hemisphere.'

Hana can't seem to change gear. The pain is rising up inside her. She tries to react, taking ten long breaths. With every breath she feels the tension dissipate. But it's not enough. Lila looks at her maternally.

‘Did I really use to tell lies?'

‘You bet. Any excuse and you were off making up some story or other. We would mention some guy's name, and you'd start with some tall tale about
him.'

‘There was no TV then. Somebody had to be the entertainer. Those were the days,' Hana sighs, with a smile.

‘Except we were all practically engaged by then,' Lila contradicts, spreading butter on those strange buns after carefully slicing them in half. Her fingers are odd; they're too long and thin for her stocky
body.

‘Bagel,' she says, like a nursery schoolteacher. ‘They're called bagels. They're good. Try
one.'

Lila spreads butter on one half, drips some honey on it, and takes a
bite.

‘The truth is, you had a hell of a great time spinning those stories,' Lila picks up from where she left off. ‘You got pleasure out of it, your face lit up, you could have gone on for hours.'

Hana imitates Lila, slicing the bagel, spreading the butter, trickling the honey, taking a
bite.

‘Now I have to invent my own life,' she announces when the bagel is finished.

‘Let's start today. We've a lot to do. You've already wasted enough time.'

‘No, today no. It's too soon.'

‘Jonida will be home from school any minute. School's out at three, and the bus brings her home.'

‘How am I supposed to behave with
her?'

‘Just be Mark. Or else, tell her everything.'

‘I think you're right. Today it's best if I'm still her uncle. Then we'll
see.'

‘Now, go take a shower. Do you have a change of clothes?'

She has everything, except the chance to get away from her own silence. Now she's in Rockville, a suburb of Washington, DC. She can't be rude. She can't shut herself up in a room of her own and play around with poems of the past and the present. The dead are best. They don't create problems for you. They don't laugh in your face. The dead are
‌
polite.
Goodbye, my brother sea
.
³
She suddenly thinks about the Turkish boy in the men's room at the airport. She wonders whether he's ever read a poem by Hikmet, his namesake. She misses Hikmet. Recently he's been a friend, mixed in with a bit of Seamus Heaney and a bit of Pablo Neruda. Be normal, people
say.

‘When are you going back to work, Lila?'

‘In three days … You're not getting rid of me before that, you better believe it. Then for three more days Shtjefën will stay at home with you, and after that you'll have to take care of yourself because you'll be on your own at home. Now go and take that shower and freshen up
–
Jonida's on her
way.'

Later, while she's taking a walk with her cousin and niece, Hana breathes in the afternoon air. The park is alive with brilliant colors. Hordes of mothers with strollers and children, their shouts in a multitude of languages helping Hana go by undetected.

Lila, not without pride, explains that this is a good area to live in. Sure, the houses are more expensive, and that's why they've had to make do with such a small apartment. But a walk in the park is better than ten diets and three sessions in a beauty parlor. Hana thrusts her hands into the pockets of her pants and looks like any man in the street.

Jonida skips in front of them and chats about this and that, mixing
‌
Albanian Gheg with American English.
⁴
She tells them about something she does at school called ‘social studies,' and about her teacher, who talks too much and can't keep the class quiet. ‘He's a dickhead,' she says three times, enough for Hana to learn a new
word.

‘Uncle Mark, you look good in that white shirt, but I thought you'd be bigger. In the photo you look bigger, you know? You really have to tell me about the mountains. I need to know everything. Mom never tells me anything. Neither does Dad. They're too busy working all
day.'

‘If we don't work then who's going to feed you, sweetie?' says Lila. The girl isn't listening. She's doing pirouettes. She's like a gazelle, a comet, a love poem. She's wearing tight-fitting, low-cut jeans, her belly button showing, a blue t-shirt with white writing on it, and underneath a red bra with thin shoulder straps just showing.

‘Do I look good, Uncle Mark?'

‘You're beautiful.'

‘I want you to like me since Mom really likes you. She's been talking about you so much with Dad these past months, and all Dad said was “Yes, yes, yes … ”' She mimics Shtjefën's voice. ‘There's a secret, right?' Hana doesn't answer. ‘I have to find out the secret. If we're friends you'll tell me everything, won't
you?'

Lila has stopped. Hana is stuck halfway between Jonida and her mother.

‘What's this place called?' Hana
asks.

‘Don't try and change the subject.'

‘What's it called?'

‘Rockville. It's called Rockville. But don't try and be clever. Are you going to tell me everything about
you?'

‘Of course.'

‘And about the mountains?'

‘Whatever you want.'

‘Great! I can't wait for the old folks to get back to work so I can have you all to myself after school.'

Hana laughs. Jonida rushes on ahead to say hi to a gang of friends.

‘Calm down, Hana. Relax,' Lila whispers affectionately.

‘I'm very relaxed, I promise.'

The evening with Shtjefën isn't as bad as she feared. He's so tired that he doesn't even take a shower before sitting down to eat. He says sorry a few times; he smells like highways and tar. His eyes are glazed and he talks more slowly than the night before. His voice is like gravel. He asks three times what the two women in his life have done today and if, by any chance, they have had time to think. ‘Of course we have, dear!' Lila reassures him. ‘Of course you have,' Shtjefën echoes. He's part bear, part butterfly, this man. He goes on slurping his bean soup. ‘What about you, Mark? Did you get some rest? You look a bit lost, brother.' Hana doesn't answer. She holds on to her spoon and can't decide whether she's hungry or not. What's for sure is that she doesn't want to talk. She takes in the atmosphere: the gestures that warm the air, the rhythmic tapping of Jonida's foot under the table, the shouts from the neighborhood children wafting through the open window, the uncertain dance of the drawn-back curtain.

Before asking for Lila's hand, Shtjefën had been wiry and blond. His head was like a sunflower. The girls in the village said it was because of his height: he caught the sun as soon as it came out, long before the others, and was the last to lose it before sundown. His speech sounded rare and distant, like the glory that cloaked his family. The Dibras had been a great
fis
, a family clan that had been at war with the Turks for centuries. After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the mountains had enjoyed a brief peace. But then the communists had come, decreed the downfall of the
fis
and executed their leaders, the
bajraktar
.

But that is the past and history is no longer important.

In the next-door apartment they're still cooking. The clanging of saucepans mixed with children's voices and spicy smells make her feel like she's part of a giant communal soup kitchen.

‘Our neighbors are from Sri Lanka,' Jonida explains. She smirks: ‘They have six kids.'

‘Did school go ok, sweetie?' Shtjefën
asks.

‘As smooth as anything,
Dad.'

‘Good girl.'

‘And
you?'

‘Me what?'

‘How did work
go?'

‘There's a lot of it, and as long as there's a lot of it, I'm taking it, my little girl. If my boss knew how to organize things, it'd be even better. That guy's a mess.'

‘Oh no, God save us,' Jonida laughs. ‘Don't start on the story of your boss,
please
.'

Shtjefën doesn't take it hard; he shakes his head and shifts the soup bowl to one side. Lila's fighting with the mashed potato and the
qofte
meatballs.

‘Now Mom and I have two men in the house, we need to rewrite the rules of household management,' Jonida decrees.

Mother and father exchange smiles.

‘We're in a phase of full-blown feminism here,' Shtjefën tells Hana. ‘Since our daughter does absolutely nothing at home, she's championing women's rights.'

‘I do a lot, Dad,' Jonida says as she attacks a meatball. ‘You're never home so you never see, that's
all.'

Lila serves the other adults. Shtjefën pours some grappa for himself and for
Hana.

‘Right,' Shtjefën says. ‘Tell me what you do, smarty-pants.'

Jonida lifts her hair up behind her neck, then drops it, rolls her eyes to give herself an air of importance, and then rests her elbows on the table.

‘I'm your muse: I inspire you, I breathe life into
you.'

The adults laugh.

Dinner is soon over and there is an atmosphere of tenderness. Hana offers to do the dishes.

‘Since when do men wash dishes?' Jonida jokes.

Lila says, ‘No way, Hana.'

‘Look, all these years I've been doing everything around the house,' Hana says, trying to convince them. ‘I know how to do women's work.' But Lila is adamant.

Shtjefën lights a cigarette.

‘Tomorrow after school, let's go out just you and me, Uncle Mark,' Jonida says, before going to bed. ‘I want you to meet my two best friends who live a block away.'

Hana wants to know why they would want to meet
her.

‘What? Are you shy or something?' Jonida exclaims. ‘If it's a language problem, don't worry
–
ok? You make yourself perfectly clear.'

‘It's not a language problem.'

‘So what is
it?'

Hana looks at Lila, who shakes her
head.

‘You three are weird,' the girl comments. ‘God only knows what's going on with
you.'

‘Listen, Jonida,' says Hana, gathering her courage. ‘Before meeting your friends, you and I have to talk.'

‘Whenever you want. Do you like ice cream?'

Hana
nods.

The parents, sitting facing one another, each look at the opposite wall. The young girl looks downcast.

‘It's nothing serious, right,
Mom?'

‘Not serious,
no.'

‘Nobody's ill or anything?'

‘No.'

‘Well, nothing else is important,' Jonida continues, relieved. ‘So, Uncle Mark, now that you've put this idea in my head, how am I supposed to hold on until tomorrow?'

‘There are some things you can't say just like that. Be a little patient.'

‘Ok. I'll just go get my school bag ready, then I won't think about it anymore.'

She goes out of the room. Shtjefën is worried and stares at
Hana.

‘Are you sure you know what you're doing, brother?'

Hana smiles, with a hint of dismay.

‘Shtjefën, you're going to have to get used to it sooner or later; you're going to have to call me by my girl's name.'

‘It's too soon,' he says. ‘Look, sorry, but all my life I've seen you as a
man.'

‘I know. Let's drink on it, then I'm going to take a walk.'

Shtjefën offers to go with her and Hana doesn't say no. Jonida comes in and out of the kitchen, silently watching them from the corner of her eye. Whining fire sirens and rumbling traffic noises come through the window.

Finally, Jonida wishes them all goodnight and goes to bed. Lila goes with her to her
room.

There's nothing we can talk about, nothing that can be put into words easily, Hana thinks later on as she and Shtjefën walk, their cigarettes flashing like fireflies. The night is warm, with a light breeze. There are still joggers out in the park. Cars pass slowly. Shtjefën explains that on small roads like these the speed limit is twenty-five miles per hour, and that the Americans are really strict about these things because this area is a middle-class residential district where people are trying to improve themselves, and so … Shtjefën leaves the sentence hanging in the air. Hana lights herself another cigarette, unsure what to do with the stub of the first. In the afternoon, when they had gone on the same walk with Jonida, her niece had told her never to throw them on the ground, because if you do you'll get a
fine.

‘Here, give it to me,' Shtjefën says. He wraps both stubs up in a paper hankie, which he then stuffs in his pocket.

He rests his arm on her shoulder and then hastily withdraws.

‘I'm sorry.'

‘What about?'

‘It's hard.'

Hana waits. Shtjefën takes his time before saying it's weird, this knot of words that he doesn't know how to get out. He says that in the last nine years the mountains seemed so far away that they didn't really exist for him anymore. And now … Now finish the sentence, Hana begs in silence.

‘Now you come here to America and I don't know how to explain that basically all this time I've been thinking of you as Mark in the village and at the same time as Lila's favorite cousin. With all the raki you've drunk in your time, Hana. All that raki.'