by Paulo Coelho
Eduard started to move away, while the man continued shouting: "Do you think I'm crazy? Then read the Gospels. God sent his only Son and his Son has risen again."
But Eduard couldn't hear him anymore. He was looking at the mountains beyond and wondering what was happening to him. Why did he feel like leaving there if he had finally found the peace he had so longed for? Why risk shaming his parents again, just when all the family problems were resolved? He began to feel agitated, pacing up and down, waiting for Mari to emerge from her silence so that they could talk, but she seemed as remote as ever.
He knew how to escape from Villete. However strict the security might seem, it was actually full of holes, simply because, once people entered Villete, they felt little desire to leave. On the west side there was a wall that could quite easily be scaled since it was full of footholds; anyone who wanted to climb it would soon find himself out in the countryside and, five minutes later, on a road heading north to Croatia. The war was over, brothers were once more brothers, the frontiers were no longer guarded as they had been before; with a little luck he could be in Belgrade in six hours.
Eduard had already been on that road several times, but he had always decided to go back because he had still not received the signal to go forward. Now things were different: The signal had finally come in the form of a young woman with green eyes, brown hair, and the startled look of someone who thinks she knows what she wants.
Eduard thought of climbing the wall there and then, of leaving and never being seen in Slovenia again. But the girl was sleeping and he needed at least to say good-bye to her.
When everyone had finished "taking the sun" and the Fraternity had gathered in the lounge, Eduard joined them.
"What's that lunatic doing here?" asked the oldest member of the group.
"Leave him alone," said Mari. "Anyway, we're crazy too."
They all laughed and started talking about the previous day's lecture. The question was this: Could Sufi meditation really change the world? Theories were put forward, as were suggestions, methodologies, contrary ideas, criticisms of the lecturer, ways of improving what had been tested over many centuries.
Eduard was sick of this kind of discussion. These people locked themselves up in a mental hospital and set about saving the world without actually taking any risks because they knew that, outside, they would be thought ridiculous, even if some of their ideas were very practical. Everyone had their own theory about everything, and they believed that their truth was the only one that mattered. They spent days, nights, weeks, and years talking, never accepting the fact that, good or bad, an idea only exists when someone tries to put it into practice.
What was Sufi meditation? What was God? What was salvation if, that is, the world needed saving? Nothing. If everyone there--and outside Villete too--just lived their lives and let others do the same, God would be in every moment, in every grain of mustard, in the fragment of cloud that is there one moment and gone the next. God was there, and yet people believed they still had to go on looking, because it seemed too simple to accept that life was an act of faith.
He remembered the exercise he had heard the Sufi master teaching while he was waiting for Veronika to come back to the piano: Simply look at a rose. What more was necessary?
Yet even after the experience of that deep meditation, even after having been brought so close to a vision of paradise, there they were, discussing, arguing, criticizing, and constructing theories.
His eyes met Mari's. She looked away, but Eduard was determined to put an end to that situation once and for all; he went over to her and took her by the arm.
"Stop it, Eduard."
He could say: "Come with me." But he didn't want to do so in front of all those people, who would be surprised at his forthright tone. That's why he preferred to kneel down and look beseechingly up at her.
The men and women laughed.
"You've become a saint for him, Mari," someone said. "It must have been yesterday's meditation."
But Eduard's years of silence had taught him to speak with his eyes; he was able to pour all his energies into them. Just as he was absolutely sure that Veronika had understood his tenderness and love, he knew that Mari would understand his despair, because he really needed her.
She resisted a little longer, then she got up and took him by the hand.
"Let's go for a walk," she said. "You're upset."
They went out into the garden again. As soon as they were at a safe distance, certain that no one could hear them, Eduard broke the silence.
"I've been in Villete for years," he said. "I've stopped being an embarrassment to my parents, I've set aside all my ambitions, but still the visions of paradise remain."
"I know," said Mari. "We've often talked about it, and I know what you're leading up to as well: It's time to leave."
Eduard glanced up at the sky; did Mari feel the same?
"And it's because of the girl," said Mari. "We've seen a lot of people die here, always when they least expected it, and usually after they'd entirely given up on life. But this is the first time we've seen it happening to a young, pretty, healthy person with so much to live for. Veronika is the only one who doesn't want to stay in Villete forever. And that makes us ask ourselves: What about us? What are we doing here?"
He nodded.
"Then, last night, I too asked myself what I was doing in this hospital. And I thought how very interesting to be down in the square, at the Three Bridges, in the marketplace opposite the theater, buying apples and talking about the weather. Obviously, I'd be struggling with a lot of other long-forgotten things, like unpaid bills, problems with neighbors, the ironic looks of people who don't understand me, solitude, my children's complaining. But all that is just part of life, I think; and the price you pay for having to deal with those minor problems is far less than the price you pay for not recognizing they're yours. I'm thinking of going over to my ex-husband's tonight, just to say thank you. What do you think?"
"I don't know. Do you think I should go to my parents' house too and say the same thing?"
"Possibly. Basically everything that happens in our life is our fault and ours alone. A lot of people go through the same difficulties we went through, and they react completely differently. We looked for the easiest way out: a separate reality."
Eduard knew that Mari was right.
"I feel like starting to live again, Eduard. I feel like making the mistakes I always wanted to make, but never had the courage to, facing up to the feelings of panic that might well come back, but whose presence will merely weary me, since I know I'm not going to die or faint because of them. I can make new friends and teach them how to be crazy too in order to be wise. I'll tell them not to follow the manual of good behavior but to discover their own lives, desires, adventures, and to live. I'll quote from Ecclesiastes to the Catholics, from the Koran to the Muslims, from the Torah to the Jews, from Aristotle to the atheists. I never want to be a lawyer again, but I can use my experience to give lectures about men and women who knew the truth about this existence of ours and whose writings can be summed up in one word: Live. If you live, God will live with you. If you refuse to run his risks, he'll retreat to that distant heaven and be merely a subject for philosophical speculation. Everyone knows this, but no one takes the first step, perhaps for fear of being called insane. At least, we haven't got that fear, Eduard. We've already been inmates of Villete."
"The only thing we can't do is run as candidates for president of the republic. The opposition would be sure to probe into our past."
Mari laughed and agreed.
"I'm tired of the life here. I don't know if I'll manage to overcome my fear, but I've had enough of the Fraternity, of this garden, of Villete, of pretending to be crazy."
"If I do it, will you?"
"You won't do it."
"I almost did, just a few moments ago."
"I don't know. I'm tired of all this, but I'm used to it too."
"When
I came here, diagnosed as a schizophrenic, you spent days, months, talking to me and treating me as a human being. I was getting used to the life I'd decided to lead, to the other reality I'd created, but you wouldn't let me. I hated you, and now I love you. I want you to leave Villete, Mari, just as I left my separate universe."
Mari moved off without answering.
In the small and never-used library in Villete, Eduard didn't find the Koran or Aristotle or any of the other philosophers Mari had mentioned. He found instead the words of a poet:
Then I said in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool
so will it happen even to me....
Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy,
and drink thy wine with a merry heart;
for God hath already accepted thy works.
Let thy garments be always white;
and let not thy head lack ointment.
Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest
all the days of the life of thy vanity,
which he hath given thee under the sun,
all the days of thy vanity:
for that is thy portion in life,
and in thy labor wherein thou laborest under the sun...
Walk in the ways of thine heart,
and in the sight of thine eyes:
but know thou, that for all these things
God will bring thee into judgment.
"God will bring me into judgment," said Eduard out loud, "and I will say: "For a time in my life I stood looking at the wind, I forgot to sow, I did not live joyfully, I did not even drink the wine offered me. But one day, I judged myself ready, and I went back to work. I told men about my visions of paradise, as did Bosch, Van Gogh, Wagner, Beethoven, Einstein, and other madmen before me." Fine, let him say that I left hospital in order to avoid seeing a young girl dying; she will be there in heaven, and she will intercede for me."
"What are you saying?" said the man in charge of the library.
"I want to leave Villete," said Eduard, in a slightly louder voice than normal. "I've got things to do."
The librarian rang a bell, and a few moments later two nurses appeared.
"I want to leave," said Eduard again, agitated. "I'm fine, just let me talk to Dr. Igor."
But the two men already had hold of him, one on each arm. Eduard tried to free himself from the arms of the nurses, though he knew it was useless.
"You're having a bit of a crisis; now just keep calm," said one of them. "We'll take care of it."
Eduard started to struggle.
"Let me talk to Dr. Igor. I've got a lot to tell him, I'm sure he'll understand."
The men were already dragging him toward the ward.
"Let me go!" he was yelling. "Just let me talk for a minute."
The way to the ward was through the living room, and all the other inmates were gathered there. Eduard was struggling, and things were starting to look ugly.
"Let him go! He's crazy!"
Some laughed, others beat with their hands on chairs and tables.
"This is a mental hospital. No one here is obliged to behave the way you do."
One of the nurses whispered to the other: "We'd better give them a fright, otherwise the situation will get completely out of control."
"There's only one way."
"Dr. Igor won't like it."
"He'll like it even less if this gang of maniacs starts smashing up his beloved hospital."
Veronika woke up with a start, in a cold sweat. There was a terrible noise outside, and she needed silence to go on sleeping. But the racket continued.
Feeling slightly dizzy, she got out of bed and went into the living room, just in time to see Eduard being dragged off, while other nurses were rushing in, wielding syringes.
"What are you doing?" she screamed.
"Veronika!"
The schizophrenic had spoken to her. He had said her name. With a mixture of surprise and shame, she tried to approach, but one of the nurses stopped her.
"What are you doing? I'm not here because I'm crazy. You can't treat me like this."
She managed to push the nurse away, while the other inmates continued to shout and kick up what seemed to her a terrifying din. Should she go and find Dr. Igor and leave there at once?
"Veronika!"
He had said her name again. Making a superhuman effort, Eduard managed to break free from the two male nurses. Instead of running away, though, he stood there, motionless, just as he had the previous night. As if transfixed by a conjuring trick, everyone stopped, waiting for the next move.
One of the nurses came over again, but Eduard looked at him, summoning all his strength.
"I'll go with you. I know where you're taking me, and I know too that you want everyone else to know. Just wait a minute."
The nurse decided it was worth taking the risk; everything after all, seemed to have returned to normal.
"I think...I think you're important to me," said Eduard to Veronika.
"You can't speak. You don't live in this world, you don't know that my name's Veronika. You weren't with me last night; please, say you weren't there."
"I was."
She took his hand. The lunatics were shouting, applauding, making obscene remarks.
"Where are they taking you?"
"For some treatment."
"I'll come with you."
"It's not worth it. You'd just be frightened, even if I swear to you that it doesn't hurt, that you don't feel anything. And it's much better than sedatives because you recover your lucidity much more quickly."
Veronika didn't know what he was talking about. She regretted having taken his hand, she wanted to get away from there as soon as possible, to hide her shame, never again to see that man who had witnessed all that was most sordid in her, and who nevertheless continued to treat her with such tenderness.
But again she remembered Mari's words: She didn't need to explain her life to anyone, not even to the young man standing before her.
"I'll come with you."
The nurses thought it might be better like that. The schizophrenic no longer needed to be restrained; he was going of his own free will.
When they reached the ward, Eduard lay down on the bed. There were two other men waiting, with a strange machine and a bag containing strips of cloth.
Eduard turned to Veronika and asked her to sit down on the bed.
"In a few minutes the story will be all round Villete, and people will calm down again, because even the craziest of the insane feel fear. Only someone who has experienced this knows that it isn't as terrible as it seems."
The nurses listened to the conversation and didn't believe a word of what the schizophrenic was saying. It must hurt terribly, but then, who knows what goes on inside the head of a lunatic? The only sensible thing the young man had said was about fear: The story would soon be all round Villete and calm would swiftly be restored.
"You lay down too soon," said one of them.
Eduard got up again, and they spread a kind of rubber sheet beneath him.
"Now you can lie down."
He obeyed. He was perfectly calm, as if everything that was happening was absolutely routine.
The nurses tied some of the strips of cloth around Eduard's body and placed a piece of rubber in his mouth.
"It's so that he doesn't accidentally bite his tongue," said one of the men to Veronika, pleased to be able to give some technical information as well as a warning.
They placed the strange machine--not much larger than a shoe box, with a few buttons and three dials on it--on a chair by the bed. Two wires came out of the top part and were connected to what looked like earphones.
One of the nurses placed these "earphones" on Eduard's temples. The other seemed to be regulating the machine, twiddling some knobs, now to the right, now to the left. Although he couldn't speak because of the piece of rubber in his mouth, Eduard kept his eyes fixed on hers and seemed to be saying: "Don't worry, don't be afraid."
&nb
sp; "It's set at 130 volts for 0.3 seconds," said the nurse controlling the machine. "Here goes."
He pressed a button and the machine buzzed. At that moment, Eduard's eyes glazed over, his body thrashed about on the bed with such fury that, but for the straps holding him down, he would have broken his spine.
"Stop it!" shouted Veronika.
"We have," said the nurse, removing the "headphones" from Eduard's temples. Even so, Eduard's body continued to writhe, his head rocking from side to side so violently that one of the men had to hold it still. The other nurse put the machine in a bag and sat down to smoke a cigarette.
The scene lasted a matter of moments. Eduard's body seemed to return to normal, but then the spasms recommenced, and the nurse had to redouble his efforts to keep Eduard's head still. After a while the contractions lessened, until they finally stopped altogether. Eduard's eyes were wide open, and one of the nurses closed them, as one does with the dead.
Then he removed the piece of rubber from Eduard's mouth, untied him, and put the strips of cloth in the bag along with the machine.
"The effects of electric shock treatment last about an hour," he said to the girl, who was no longer shouting and who seemed mesmerized by what she was seeing. "It's all right, he'll soon be back to normal, and he'll be calmer too."
As soon as the electric charge took effect, Eduard felt what he had experienced before: His normal vision gradually decreased, as if someone were closing a curtain, until everything disappeared. There was no pain or suffering, but he had seen other people being treated with electric shock, and he knew how awful it looked.
Eduard was at peace now. If, moments before, he had experienced the stirrings of a new emotion in his heart, if he had begun to understand that love was something other than what his parents gave him, the electric shock treatment--or electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), as the specialists preferred to call it--would certainly restore him to normality.
The main effect of ECT was to destroy short-term memory. There would be no nurturing of impossible dreams for Eduard. He could not continue looking forward to a future that did not exist; his thoughts must remain turned toward the past, or he would again begin wanting to return to life.
An hour later Zedka went into the ward, almost empty except for a bed where a young man was lying, and a chair, where a young woman was sitting.
