An instant of uncertainty.
“My father was not good enough, grandfather always said it, he chose me because of this. He is really old, he is afraid not to live for a long time yet. I have to maintain it now.”
“And he made you believe in the fact that it is a fragment of the meteor.”
“It is not a meteor: it is the eye of an angel. Allah sent it to us to save us.”
I sighed. “Whatever it is, you know that it is not real. This can’t be…”
“Our family have been taking care of it for a long time. Centuries, my grandfather says.”
The problem was there: it was your grandfather I had to speak with to stop that story going on. It was sad to take the illusion away, but necessary.
You reached out and the stone rolled towards me. “Do you want it?” you asked to me.
I could not understand the question. “I told you…”
“To take the evil away. Even you want to want the evil to go away maybe!”
I won’t never forget that sensation. It was like you read my mind, removing each door, put under the spotlight my secrets. I could speak. “I don’t need it.”
You smiled. “It is not important. I can let you have it. You may to give it back tomorrow morning.”
I couldn’t say anything, I took it. It was just a stone, neither cold nor hot. A stone.
“What do I need to do?” I missed.
It was obvious for you. “Praying.”
I was holding it into my hand, but I could not pray.
“Do you take it to bed with you?” Aldo asked to me.
It was a pupil’s present, I told him, my husband could not understand.
Praying. I was not able to.
Praying who, Allah? I did not know that god, I had never appreciated. As a woman, I could not comprehend it.
Praying for what?
What an absurdity.
I gave it back to you the day after, without letting others see me.
“I am not able”, I told you.
You smiled. “The evil was not there anymore. You are different, it is clear.”
You saw it, just you. The pain was still there, it did not disappear. I didn’t pray.
“It’s better this way”, I told you. “Now get back to your seat, the lesson is about to start.”
After a few hours, there would be a tragedy, but I could not know it. I was part of the cause or maybe not. We can’t beat some things. It is religion.
You were shining, that day, with your strange tunic and eternal smile. You were jumping around the class, talking to everyone. Those kids adored you.
It was a fantastic lesson. The last one.
I didn’t know what happened to you until two days later. You had not come to school for two days in a row. I felt bad, it never happened to me. Never with one of my pupils. Why? Holiday or love? It was what I felt about you, was I loving you already?
The second day I was hysterical and I was shouting without any reason, I tormented those poor kids who were worried as much as me. When I was called by the director, I understood that something bad happened. To you.
Simona went straight in for it. “Aziz was attacked.”
I fell on a chair, without being able to talk. Simona smiled to me. “Don’t worry, they haven’t done anything to him, the child is actually good.”
I tried to think. “Attacked how? From who? Why didn’t he get back to school?”
“Two men, he said, but he could not describe them. It is easy to understand who it was. They didn’t do anything to him but he’s a bit shocked. I talked to the father, he said he does not want to get out of his room.”
I did not feel calm. “Why are you sure to know who it was?”
“Come on! You know it as well! After what the kid did all of this was predictable.”
I kept on being confused. “What did he do?”
She tilted the eyes towards the sky. “You told me he was converting the whole class! Don’t you believe the kids talked about it at home?”
My world fell apart. “Were the parents of the other pupils?”
“It is possible, don’t you reckon? Parents or big brothers. There’s always some hothead.”
“What did they do to him, how is he?”
“He is good, I told you. They didn’t do anything to him.”
“What did they tell him then. Did they threaten him?”
“Are you hiding something from me?”
“Definitely not.”
“You are hiding something.”
Beating around the bush was useless, I had to say it. “They took the stone away from him.”
I took the decision instantly and leaped up.
“We got to discover who they are, they need to give it back. It’s his stone.”
“I am afraid it is not possible”, Simona said.
“The stone is not here anymore. They had a hammer, they destroyed it. In front of his eyes.”
I fainted. Then I was not able to get on with the lesson. And especially, facing my pupils. I went home.
I didn’t come to you, even if I should have. I didn’t feel like to. I am sorry Aziz, but in that moment, you were the centre of my thoughts. The stone was the heart of my world, that stone was not there anymore. The stone I refused, that maybe it could have cured me, if I was able to pray.
It was too late, if it was able to do miracles or not was not important anymore. I was not able to understand, I lost the occasion.
I went through a hell of a night and even Aldo got worried. The morning after I was more lucid, I was able to understand my errors. I decided to come to you because your pain must have been way greater than mine for sure. I called in sick and did not go to school.
You were living in a basement, in the outskirts. An old house, falling apart. Your family was large, too large. You had to brothers, both older than you. Two unmarried aunts were living with you as well. They did not let themselves to be seen: once locked up in the kitchen, the women just know how to cry. Your father opened the door.
I should have covered my head but I didn’t even have a scarf on me. It was too late. I asked to you.
It was a big man, but weak. Defeated by the world. He was that intelligent and he never learned our language. He accepted my help, even though I was a woman, he said you locked yourself up in your room and you refused to eat as well. He did not know what to do anymore.
There was anger in me, for what they had done to you, and not only against the men who attacked you but against your family as well that filled you up with superstition. I managed to see you.
Your room was the smallest one, almost a closet, there was not any space to move around. You were in your bed, like an ill person, and you were holding tight your bed sheet.
“He is not feeling good”, I said. “He has got the fever, we need to do something.”
You had not the fever, even if you did not feel good.
I was happy about you being there, but you were not talking. I tried to explain to you, to defuse the situation, even if it was impossible to explain the violence made to a kid.
You did not care, you just had one thing in mind and in the end, you told it to me, all in one. “I am cursed. Allah cursed me!”
No one else heard that. You really believed in it, trying to make you feel better was useless. The fact that was me doing it was useless, particularly. So, I asked to speak with you grandfather. In the end, he was the cause of any bad thing.
You were right, it was an old man, a very old man, almost decrepit, dark skin tone and really white hair. Creped skin with thousands of wrinkles. Seasoned leather.
He did not know Italian. It was necessary calling one of the daughters to translate. One woman of my age, that hid the face and of which I could only see the black eyes.
I asked you to help you, to help your nephew, because that was the only thing I cared about.
“He can not do anything”, said the woman. “Aziz is in the hands of Allah.”
“Aziz is convinced that he is cursed”, I said to her. “He is desperate.”
She translated. “Allah is merciful, but for some sins there is no forgiveness.”
I held back on shouting. “It is not Aziz fault, they attacked him!”
The old man spoke for a long time and the woman said again. “He chose Aziz between all of his nephews, because he was sure about the fact that he was the right one. He did something wrong and now he has got to pay for it. All our family is cursed, there is no hope. Tough times are waiting for us.”
How can you speak with such individuals? I got angry. “That kid is not feeling god and no one is helping him. You even blame him! What kind of people are you?”
“Aziz is not a kid. He is the guardian. He was. A guardian who betray his people cannot be forgiven.”
“Do you understand that he did not do anything! He has been attacked! He could not do anything!”
Even the old man got angry. “He used the relic to cure the infidels, it is what he has done! Our most precious good has been wasted like this. Misfortune and death will rain on our heads.”
I had never taken into consideration from that point of view. “Infidels…is that the problem? Don’t you forgive him because of this?”
“He had to be the guardian but he was not able to protect it. He wasted his power, he caused the destruction. What are we without the relic? Tell me, what is the sense of this life? Allah won’t never forgive us and our sons. For all the generations that will come. We are cursed.”
“Wasted.” I went again, because that was the heart of the problem. The wasted power for the infidels. Because of this, the stone was destroyed and you were desperate.
“This is bullshit!” I shouted, I could not hold myself back anymore. “You are making that kid suffer for a bunch of idiot superstitions!”
The woman translated one last sentence, while the eyes of that old man were shining. “If you really don’t believe in it, why did he take it with you?”
That sentence disturbed me. I did not take anything with me. But you told him that you gave the stone to me.
They didn’t say anything and I had to go away.
I managed to see you one last time after that. The last one.
They didn’t want to let me in but I started shouting. There was a doctor in the house and they were feeding you with a drip but it was useless. It was already 10 days that you didn’t eat, you were refusing any type of feeding treatment, even the drip was useless. Your father was desperate to the point where he contravened to the orders of the patriarch. Maybe he hoped that I had to perform the miracle.
I held myself back from shouting when I got into his room. I had never seen a kid in that conditions, neither on the documentaries about the poorest Africa. You were already a skeleton, got together by a grey and pale skin. For a moment, I saw your smile. Or maybe I dreamed of it.
You were worried about me. “It is right”, you said with a very low voice. “I made a mistake.”
Of course, you did not make a mistake, this is what I needed you to understand. “You made a mistake about what? Trying to help your mates? Making them feel better? You did not do anything wrong Aziz, they make mistakes.”
“Allah…”
“It makes mistakes either, he did not understand anything.”
It was the biggest heresy, I shocked you. “Allah is big, he is merciful”, you stuttered. “He loves us.”
“Gods only love themselves, they don’t take care of us. They govern us and that’s all.”
“You are saying terrible things.”
I pet his front, he was hot. “I want you to live, nothing else.”
You avoided my eyes. “I am sinner, I need to accept my destiny.”
I could not accept it.
You died 27 days later the destruction of the stone, after a long and painful agony. They took you to the hospital but it was useless, none of the doctors could understand what disease affected you. Your body was unable to hold the feeding elements, it seemed like you turned into a stone.
That night I had sex with my husband. I had it while crying, I could not stop. I disturbed him a lot, but I needed his hug, I did not want to stop. It has been the most beautiful sexual intercourse that we ever had, he was so sweet and he understood my fragility. Even after that, he stayed with me to support me.
“We will have a baby”, I said to him. “We have just conceived him.”
He was not expecting that but he smiled anyway. “I wish it is possible.”
It was not, it was obvious, I was sterile from the birth. The doctors have been clear about it, there was no hope of getting a baby.
But I made my choice, the one that one day you will have to make. I chose and I was happy to do it. The only possible choice, the best one.
I hold his hand tight. “We will have a baby”, I went again. “You will be a father. He will be a boy. We will call him Aziz.”
He laughed. He could not understand.
You exist. You have been on this earth since then. I gave you a new body. Grow inside me.
No more vengeful gods, I made a choice, I told you. If God and Allah really exist, and their anger proved it, then the others must exist as well. I chose the religion that I reckon it was the best, I hugged the teachings of Buddha, the transmigration of souls and the infinite return. I chose not to see that you disappeared forever, I chose you could have another chance.
Allah took his revenge, but I made it to take his hands off you. I am sure. God was no less as well, even he expected is revenge. We betrayed him, because the miracles have a signature.
The first one was Silvia. She’s got leukaemia. She lost her beautiful hair, she is about to die. The scarf is back, but there’s no will anymore.
Marco doesn’t have a leg anymore, they had to amputate it. Because of the accident while riding the bike, they said. Even worse, the infection is expanding, they fear for his life.
And me?
I prayed for Allah. If the miracle happened, I betrayed as well. With the mind, heart, without realising. I believed in him, in that stone, in that power. I broke the most important commandment.
The cancer has come, subtle, it expanded in each part, it is eating me. It won’t be able to beat me, though. Not this time. You will be able to see the light, I swear. I will make you come back, my child, even if it will be the last lesson of my life.
Remember, Aziz, remember.
They will tell you a lot of things and most of them will be wrong. They exist, they are there. Gods are between us. The govern us, but not because of this they deserve to be adored. The free will really exist, we can always choose. Choose to make a mistake, maybe, and putting up with the consequences.
Choose to fight against them. There is always a chance to win.
I will not be there, I won’t be able to raise you, but you will do great things, I know it already. You don’t need any stupid stone, you don’t need of any kind of god.
I believe in you, Aziz, my child.
December 2013
FREAKS
Translation by Cinzia Albanese
Penelope was weaving.
In the International Circus of Phenomenal Humans of the Magnificent Santini, that’s what she did, creating cobwebs. Giant cobwebs, beautifully done. She was the Spider-Woman, and every evening showed herself in front of, every time new, gentlemen and madams, military and traders. They all applaud her, but Penelope knew they all felt pity for her and some even felt disgusted.
She spent hours and hours practicing her number. She experimented with new arabesques to challenge her own capacity. Her caravan was filled with cobwebs, to the point it was hard to move around. She could easily, and Medusa, but for the others it was very hard, inside that caravan they felt uneasy, frightened of destroying her creations, they appeared so fragile.
An absurd fear, knowing that her cobwebs couldn’t break, at least not that easily. They tried it a few times when they entangled themselves. They found out h
ow sticky and strong those strings were, and how they imprisoned anyone who came into contact.
Penelope was born like this, and her mother before her. She had two additional glands, supplying the string, allowing her to create silk. Unfortunately, these glands. Unfortunately, these glands, which she continued to exploit, grew to the point of shaping her face, swelling her neck more than normal. This was her worry, because she knew she wasn’t pretty. Even worse, she considered herself a monster, and she never showed herself in public without a vail.
Medusa didn’t have these problems, she took every chance to free herself from that uncomfortable vail and leave her snake hair free. Even with the threatening, Medusa’s hair doesn’t petrify people, they weren’t even real snakes, they looked more like tentacles, always in movement.
Penelope had never kissed anyone, in all her life, and always thought she wouldn’t be able to.
“To early to say”, said Medusa. After all Penelope was only sixteen years old. One of the reasons why a lot of them were shocked when Santini chose her.
The Magnificent dominated them, his wishes were orders, nobody would dare contradict him. But this time it was different, even Medusa intervened. “You can’t!” she said. “She’s only a child!”
But Santini didn’t listen to her. He didn’t listen to anyone.
Penelope knew it was her duty to do it, even Medusa did it six months ago, but it never worked. Until now it never worked, except that time, years ago.
Medusa came out upset from that experience. Months passed before she was back to herself, and Penelope was always next to her. She was there when Medusa woke up screaming at night, ready to calm her down. From that day, the light in the caravan stayed on all the time, fear of darkness had become her faithful companion.
And now it was Penelope’s turn.
It was dangerous, very dangerous, she could have died. Others died. The last one was Kriss, the snake woman. Penelope didn’t see her, when they buried her, they didn’t allow her to go. They told her that the show went horribly wrong.
Him.
It wasn’t easy, but the Magnificent Santini managed: In his International Circus, that three centuries had travelled the all the lands of Europe, there was the most dangerous and terrible creature ever created. The reason why hi show was so different from any other shows of the fourth order. Nobody had in their attraction a real Vampire.
The Prison Page 65
