Part 8 (1/2)
He pointed at, Broken and confused.
I pointed at, So sad.
He pointed at, Broken and confused.
I pointed at, Something.
He pointed at, Nothing.
I pointed at, Something.
n.o.body pointed at, I love you.
There was no way around it. We could not climb over it, or walk until we found its edge.
I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live, Oskar. Because if I were able to live my life again, I would do things differently.
I would change my life.
I would kiss my piano teacher, even if he laughed at me.
I would jump with Mary on the bed, even if I made a fool of myself.
I would send out ugly photographs, thousands of them.
What are we going to do? he wrote.
It's up to you, I said.
He wrote, I want to go home.
What is home to you?
Home is the place with the most rules.
I understood him.
And we will have to make more rules, I said.
To make it more of a home.
Yes.
OK.
We went straight to the jewelry store. He left the suitcase in the back room. We sold a pair of emerald earrings that day. And a diamond engagement ring. And a gold bracelet for a little girl. And a watch for someone on his way to Brazil.
That night we held each other in bed. He kissed me all over. I believed him. I was not stupid. I was his wife.
The next morning he went to the airport. I didn't dare feel his suitcase.
I waited for him to come home.
Hours pa.s.sed. And minutes.
I didn't open the store at 11:00.
I waited by the window. I still believed in him.
I didn't eat lunch.
Seconds pa.s.sed.
The afternoon left. The evening came.
I didn't eat dinner.
Years were pa.s.sing through the s.p.a.ces between moments.
Your father kicked in my belly.
What was he trying to tell me?
I brought the birdcages to the windows.
I opened the windows, and opened the birdcages.
I poured the fish down the drain.
I took the dogs and cats downstairs and removed their collars.
I released the insects onto the street.
And the reptiles.
And the mice.
I told them, Go.
All of you.
Go.
And they went.
And they didn't come back.
HAPPINESS, HAPPINESS.