Sworn Virgin (9 page)

‘Just go and check on Enver,' he manages to say to Hana. ‘I don't know if he has eaten, poor creature.'

Hana leaves the room and goes to the animal pen in the courtyard where their goat and sheep live. The sheep is sleeping, the goat is not. As soon as he sees Hana he starts bleating.

‘Hi Enver,' Hana says, stroking his beard. ‘How're you doing?'

She looks around her. The hay is fresh, the water pail has been filled. Somebody has taken care of everything before leaving. The nearest neighbor's
kulla
, to the left, is ten minutes away. Nobody lives on the right, there's just the sharply rising mountain.

A woman who came to Katrina's funeral brought the traditional offerings of tobacco, sugar, and coffee. Maybe she cried, and then went to take care of the animals. It must have been Dille, Ndué Zega's wife. The two families help each other out, without making a show of it. The Zegas have a son who works in the Party as a member of the Citizens' Committee in Lezhë. He doesn't approve of the Dodas. They are a little too Catholic to be politically reliable.

The communists have always doubted Gjergj's faith in the regime, but they have never caught him out in any way. Gjergj Doda is canny. He has never expressed a point of view regarding the government. Better not to talk at all than to say something against them. He's a good peasant. He sticks to the communist rules, except for the name he has given his goat. He has secretly called him Enver, like the dear departed leader, but this small detail nobody knows about.

‘See you later, Enver,' Hana says as she leaves the pen. ‘I'll come by and visit tomorrow when I have more time.'

The next morning she goes on her own to the village cemetery. The sun is shining and the tractors from the agricultural cooperative are already plowing their way up and down the few tracts of amenable land. The rest is so steep it can only be farmed by
hand.

Katrina's grave is easy to spot. There are fresh flowers stuck into jam jars and bottles.

She touches the freshly turned earth and quickly pulls her hand away. Then she touches it again, this time digging her fingers in and leaving them there.

‘Thank you for my vest, Auntie,' she says out loud. The collar of her blouse is dripping with sweat. ‘I'm sorry I didn't get here in time.'

She realizes that she should be in the exam room right now, in the auditorium next to the dean's office.

She sits down on the ground. Her knees are killing her. She pushes her other hand into the earth and bows her head until her chin touches her breasts.

She tries, but can't seem to make herself cry. Suddenly tears of anger that she doesn't feel like crying fill her
eyes.

After an hour, she goes
home.

Uncle Gjergj is hunched up, trying to keep the spasms of pain under control. He can hardly speak or move his
arms.

‘My whole body is hurting. Leave this house, Hana. Stop looking at
me.'

In the daylight she can see the mess left by the mourners after the funeral. Aunt Katrina wouldn't have stood for
it.

‘But Uncle Gjergj
…'

‘Go away, I said. Get out of here. Did you leave your obedience in the city? Have you forgotten your manners?'

She leaves the room. She starts boiling a pan of water, in which she'll throw the ash from the fireplace. Aunt Katrina always saved it to use instead of soap when the shops in Rrnajë are out. She goes into the storeroom and looks for the aluminum pail full of ash. If you boil sheets in water and ash they come out white as
snow.

She opens the upstairs windows wide. There are three big rooms under the gables. She would be coming out of her exam now. She would be admitted to the second year. She would be happy.

The day continues to be marked by the heat and the sounds of their animals. From the Dodas'
kulla
you can't see the village. Hana can start cleaning; she can take off her blouse and wear only a camisole without looking indecent. Nobody will see
her.

Would Ben, her classmate in French, have finished his last exam? She likes the way he looks at her. She tries to focus on wiping the glass in the tiny window.

When she has finished cleaning the house it looks like new. Gjergj is still. The pain has let up for a while and he's finally gone to sleep. Hana is pleased with herself, with how she organized her day and how she managed to enjoy the sun upstairs while she cleaned and tidied things up. Her arms are pink, slightly sunburnt.

The girls in Tirana strip off in the park, as much as they can, as much as the laws imposed on them by men and communist morality allow. The girls in Tirana cut classes and go to the beach in Durrës. One day she'd like to go herself, but she doesn't have a bathing
suit.

Goodbye, my brother sea.

The doctor arrives while she is cooking dinner.

‘I'm here to give Gjergj his drugs, but since you're here I'll show you what to do,' he
says.

Hana asks him to step outside where they can talk, as her uncle is sleeping.

‘I'm sorry about Katrina,' he says. ‘My condolences. And Gjergj is sick, Hana. The operation didn't help much.'

She says brusquely that she doesn't want to know and he answers that maybe she should listen to what he's saying because soon she'll be on her own and that's the truth. He hands her three boxes of medicine.

‘I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm really confused right
now.'

Silence.

‘Do you remember, Hana? You were the first person I met here in Rrnajë, the day I arrived.'

She feels sorry for
him.

‘Yes, I remember. You smelled of aftershave. The whole village knew you were arriving that Tuesday.'

He clenches his jaw. She looks at his profile.

‘I like you,' the doctor says. ‘I'm getting to like you more and more. I thought it would blow over, but you've stayed in my mind.'

Hana turns away. The mountain is growing dark, preparing to be abandoned by the
sun.

‘How can you like someone like me?' she asks caustically. ‘Don't you
‌
city people call us
malokë
?
¹⁰
Don't you always look down on us mountain people?'

He doesn't feel he can contradict her. He's honest enough to admit it to himself, at least, if not out loud. That's better than nothing, Hana thinks.

‘What were you reading before coming up to Rrnajë?' he asks, trying to buy some
time.

‘
Death of a Traveling Salesman
.'

Hana puts her hands in her pants pockets. They are black, made of light flannel. She thinks they look quite good on her. She found them in a shop in Tirana, and the mother of a classmate of hers, a seamstress by trade, took them in a little. The doctor waits for her to say something and, when she doesn't, he asks if by any chance she has anything to say about what he has just
said.

‘You're a regular kind of guy; you must have had a lot of beautiful girls,' she snaps, without even looking at him, almost turning away from him. ‘Why are you bothering with me? Or is it just because I'm around?'

‘That's pretty mean,' the doctor protests.

Hana would like to rest her head on his chest to see what it feels like, to see what a man smells like close
to.

‘You've chosen a bad day to declare yourself.'

‘I've been meaning to tell you for a while. And anyway I'm leaving in a few days.'

‘Leaving?'

‘They've transferred me … So?' he insists. ‘Any answer?'

‘Give me some time,' Hana says, amazed by her own words. ‘I have to think about it. Don't get your hopes up though.'

The doctor says he doesn't understand. If she asks for more time it means there must be hope, otherwise there would be no point. She stops him and says that's the way it is, and that's that. The truth is she doesn't want to lose him. If she just said ‘no' she would be burning her bridges, closing all the doors, letting the darkness in. This realization makes her feel terrible, because she's not attracted to him, not one
bit.

‘You must understand that I can't wait long,' he says. ‘I've been transferred and I'm finally going to be closer to home.' Hana notices the stress he puts on the word ‘finally.'

‘So you're going back to Tirana?'

‘I wish! No, I'm being sent to Kavajë. It's much closer to Tirana and much better than here.'

‘So you're free,' she smiles bitterly. ‘You're free.'

All at once he steps forward and kisses her on her forehead.

‘Free from what, Hana?' he mutters, while she pulls away from him. ‘Free from where? We're just like horses, going round and round in circles.'

They catch each other's eyes for the first time. He has nice eyes, she's never noticed before. She would like to tell him so, but senses she has missed her chance. Something in him shifts. The shared confidence about the concept of freedom has made him wary. He's under control. He's the doctor
now.

‘It's best not to talk about certain things, young lady,' he whispers, ‘if you don't want to get into trouble.'

‘Why? Aren't I already in trouble?'

‘There's a lot worse, and you know
it.'

‘So now I'm “young lady,” am
I?'

Hana turns away and takes a few steps. Life is strange. There are some things she's never said before, never talked about, never thought she could say so freely. Now all this for some guy whom she doesn't really know or particularly like. But she's still sorry he's leaving.

‘It's a strange life, Doctor.'

‘Would you like to call me Artan finally?'

He comes dangerously close again. He's just behind Hana; his breath is hot and
sad.

‘Ok. It's a strange life, Artan, because I'm sorry you're leaving.'

‘So
…'

‘There isn't any “so.” I'm sorry, that's
all.'

She turns her back to him, her eyes brimming with tears. She suddenly starts sobbing, her hands on her stomach.

‘Go on, cry. Get it out of
you.'

‘I can't.'

‘Just let yourself go, Hana.'

He hugs her. She lets him. She rests her head for the first time ever on the heart of a man. They stand there together for a while. Here's why it's such a good thing to have your house on the edge of the world: nobody can see you; nobody can betray
you.

‘If you will allow me,' he murmurs, ‘I'll ask Gjergj for your hand. I know that in these parts there's no other way to have a relationship with a girl, so I'll ask him for your hand in marriage.'

She detaches herself brusquely.

‘Who do you think you are? I don't love you and I don't know you, and anyway, who says I need a
man?'

Her uncle has woken up and is thumping his stick against the wall to get her attention.

‘I have to go in,' Hana says, cutting the conversation short.

The village is without a replacement doctor for a long time. The Ministry of Health doesn't have another man to sacrifice to the mountains. The only nurse decides to devote herself to sick children, leaving the adults to fend for themselves.

‘Hana, my girl,' the nurse says one day. ‘You need to go down to Scutari to pick up your uncle's drugs. I can't do everything, and anyway it's dangerous, a woman all alone … I'm married and my husband won't allow
it.'

‘They wouldn't give me the drugs, Comrade Nurse. They're imported.'

‘I'll call the pharmacist in Scutari,' the nurse reassures her. ‘I know him personally.'

The nurse is in her forties, but her expression makes her look older, almost ancient. She observes Hana with curiosity, her big eyes boring into
her.

‘What about you? Aren't you going back to Tirana?'

‘I'll go say goodbye to a few friends and find out when I can retake the final exam that I missed.'

‘I've never been to Tirana, I've only ever seen it on TV. Is it really that beautiful or do they make it look that way so that we mountain people envy them?'

Hana thinks about
it.

‘There are buildings and asphalt,' she says finally.

‘And I suppose your shoes don't get muddy?'

‘It depends.'

More silence. The nurse's curiosity goes into standby.

‘I'm tired,' Hana says, and goes out without saying goodbye.

Gjergj tries to keep his pain under control, but when he has no energy left to fight it he turns nasty.

‘Get out of here! Go away! I don't want you here!'

She obeys and takes refuge in her room with her books. She leafs through them, but the feelings she once had for them have turned into smoke that chokes her suddenly. She doesn't love them anymore, and she feels guilty.

One day she tells her uncle she has to go down to Scutari to get his drugs. He looks a little better this morning; his expression is lively and a vein is pulsing on the back of his hand. He shakes his
head.

‘I have to go,' Hana says. ‘You only have three days' worth of medication here.'

He's still against
it.

‘I'll go tomorrow morning with one of the trucks carrying wood down to the city. I expect a driver will have room for
me.'

He waves his arms in total disapproval.

‘So tell me, what should we do?' Hana asks rudely. ‘You tell me, since you know everything. Am I supposed to stay here and watch you suffering without doing anything to help?'