The Colour Black

by Maia Walczak

  Later that night we make love and it is beautiful.

  Alma: Tuesday 24 December 1991

  It’s Christmas Eve. Silvia is exactly nineteen months and fifteen days old today and as I look at her I contemplate how quickly time has passed. She’s mucking around with crayons at one end of the kitchen table, while I’m on the other end, preparing Christmas dinner. I don’t know where Diego is, but I told him to be back for six this evening.

  It’s already a quarter past and it’s dark outside and I’m getting anxious. I know he’s often late, but it’s Christmas and I’d hoped he’d make the effort.

  The door swings open and slams shut behind him. He’s made it. My face lights up with a smile of relief. Hey sweetheart, Merry Christmas, I say going to give him a kiss on the cheek. Merry Christmas, he says. But his head is somewhere completely different. I can’t tell whether he’s just distracted or on something.

  We eat our meal in silence. I think this is the worst Christmas I’ve ever had.

  After I’ve tucked Silvia into bed I tiptoe into our room and shut the door behind me. Diego is sitting at the end of our bed. He gets up, embraces me and starts kissing me. His kisses feel urgent and now he’s pressing my body against the bedroom door and I don’t know if he realises how forceful he is being. He bites my lip. Hard. Suddenly he swings me round and pushes me onto the bed, face down. He’s pinned me down and lifted my dress and is pulling off my underwear. He penetrates me from behind and I howl in pain. I struggle and try to fight him off. He turns me round so I’m face up, he slaps me in the face and he fucks me. He kisses and he bites and I can no longer respond. I can’t move. I am numb.

  He lands on top of me panting after he comes. I wait. His breathing finally slows to normal but I can feel he’s starting to shake. He’s crying.

  ‘Oh god, Alma, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…’

  We’re both crying.

  I tell myself I don’t believe in bad people, only people who’ve gone astray. All I want is for the Diego I once knew to come back, and for it to all be okay again.

  The Forest

  My mother’s blind love for Diego taught me a valuable lesson: to keep away from love. Not that I had a choice. If I got close to someone I’d have to tell them everything, and then they too would have to live a life of secrecy and lies. I’d never want to do that to anyone, for the same reason I’d never want to have a child. Why bring a new life into this unkind world? Why bring a person into my insane world?

  But the truth is that the concept humans have of love has confused me ever since I watched my mother’s blindness. And then all the years that followed, all the lyrics of songs, films and books all confirmed how nonsensical this thing we called love was. My mother was an obvious case, of course. Most people think that, in the same position, they would be able to see that they were deluding themselves, but the truth is that most of the time the pain of love is far more subtle.

  When people use the word ‘love’, they could just as easily replace it with ‘need’ or ‘attachment’ or ‘addiction’ – and I guess that becomes most obvious when people in one way or another lose that person they love. Then the suffering begins. The withdrawal. Then you see how painful it can be to have been attached to someone.

  *

  My mother and I travelled around a lot, and that’s how I learned about the drug wars. I overheard people talking on the buses, and news would come on the radio. There was no way my mother could shield me from the truth of it. I thought the cartels were monsters. People were dying and disappearing all the time. I often thought that the monsters would come and get me too. Each month, each year seemed just as violent as the next. The US government was heavily involved in all of this of course. After all, ‘the Mexicans’ were responsible for supplying their country with the vast majority of illegal drugs. But the US also made out that their help would sort out Mexico’s problems, all the drugs and violence. Yes, that’s right, my mother would say, the cherry on top is that they try to make us believe they’re helping us out. What a load of bullshit. It seemed we all knew the US government supplied the cartels with guns, and we’d heard many tales of how its agencies had laundered money for them. The US had no interest whatsoever in helping end the violence. Why would they? To them we were just another blur of unpeople.

  It was around that time though that the US government made the decision to involve itself more heavily – ‘time for a serious intervention,’ they declared. Time to crack down on the evil drug lords and cartels once and for all.

  *

  Silvia: Friday 9 May 1997

  Our forest is one of Mexico’s most diverse cloud forests, Mami says. It’s my seventh birthday today, finally. I’ve been waiting a whole year for this day.

  Ahh, says Mami, time seems endless when you’re little. It drags out from one birthday to the next. But I don’t understand what she means. Sometimes Mami says silly things. But I love her. Especially today, because she’s taking me to the forest.

  When we’re in the forest it makes me happy. It’s beautiful. Mami talks to me about how climate change will affect the complex natural systems in these biodiverse cloud forests. I don’t know what she means and I don’t like the sound of it, but I listen because I think maybe she will test me on this later. She says drought could wipe out whole areas of forests. The ecological equilibrium of the ecosystems would be totally interrupted, and if the forests were lost it is supposed that at least a hundred and twenty species of vertebrates specific to that region would go extinct. I frown because I’ve forgotten what half of those words mean, but I can’t ask her because she’s explained them to me millions of times and I don’t want her to get angry. She looks at me with scary eyes and says and that’s just the vertebrates Luna! This could all happen within the space of only a few years!

  Though I am still small, I am big enough to already know what some of those words mean and I know that Mami is talking about a lot of really bad news. As usual she is angry about it all, I can tell because of how her voice sounds funny when she speaks. But it is my birthday and I don’t want her to be angry today. I wish she wasn’t angry about things sometimes. Especially because the forest is really nice today and I think she should be happy instead. It’s really really green and there’s mist in the trees. I can hear birds going chirp chirp and insects going buzz buzz buzzzz, and I like to close my eyes sometimes and think that the forest is breathing. This is a magic forest. It makes me happy. But Mami’s words and her angriness make me sad. I don’t want to feel sad on my birthday.

  But soon we are happy again! Mami has made me a surprise. She did a surprise birthday picnic with all my favourite things in it, which she put out on the big fluffy rainbow rug. There is chocolate cake, yummy avocado sandwiches, lemonade, corn tortillas, juicy salsas and salads, beans, spicy chilli chocolate cookies – my favourite! – and sweet potato fries… I eat and I eat and it tastes so good and Mami says I have a huge grin on my face and so does she and I am so happy!

  The birds are singing so prettily and everything is green green green and we chat about all sorts of things and it is so good and perfect. Mami asks me what I want to be when I grow up, and I say a bird because it is true. She tells me about Norway and how the forests look different there. We talk and talk, and sometimes we go silent, just listening to the forest because it sounds nice and Mami thinks so too. And she doesn’t even talk about Diego or talk about sad things or talk about how bad the world is because I think Mami is happy. This is the best birthday ever.

  But after our picnic there is bad news with the forest. Mami says the cloud forest used to be way bigger than it was, and it had got lots smaller because of things like coffee and cattle growing on it and lots of new people coming to live in it with the native people. Lots of animals have already become extinct. Extinction is a bad thing. Mami says she would do anything for the forest to keep staying alive, and to not keep disappearing. And she says that if she could she would go back in time and make it not disappear fr
om the start and not have all those animals get extinct, and make it like it was in the beginning because it was nicer in the beginning. I want to go back in time in a time machine too and see what the forest looked like a million years ago and see the animals that are now gone. I bet it was all really pretty.

  Yes, Mami loves our forest. And everyone in the world knows that because she is getting famous because she is really clever and knows lots of people and lots of people know her and not just our neighbours but people from all over the whole wide world. Even far far away in England a really famous newspaper has written about Mami and her projects. The projects teach people how to save the planet and the animals and everything. I was there when she spoke to the newspaper man but she was speaking English and I didn’t understand but I could see she was happy and I was happy too because Mami was getting famous. I made her a frame from sticks and glue and we framed the page from the famous English newspaper that she was in and we put it up in the kitchen for the whole wide world to see, but then it got moved into my room and I don’t know why this happened but I think maybe Diego moved it because he didn’t like it. He doesn’t seem happy that people from all over the whole world know about Mami.

  Silvia: Thursday 16 October 1997

  Grandma in Norway has died and I’m so sad and I can’t stop crying. I met her two times before and I really liked her and I don’t understand why she had to die and why I will never get to see her again. It is horrible.

  Now it is only me and Mami left in this world, because Diego doesn’t count because I don’t like him. But maybe it will all be okay in the end because I have Mami, and Mami is enough.

  Alma: Tuesday 4 November 1997

  I still can’t believe she’s gone. It wasn’t a shock, but even so, there’s a part of you that never quite wants to believe it will happen. I know I could have visited more. It took her own funeral to get me back to Norway for a visit. But I’m at peace. She left this world knowing that I’m okay. I suppose it’s typical that only now she’s not here I’m starting to really value all those words of kindness she showered on me after I sent her my article in The Guardian. I did her proud and I’m glad about that, because if she’d left any earlier she’d have gone to the grave still worrying about me.

  I can’t remember the last time I got to sit down like this at the table and drink a cup of coffee without having to be anywhere else, I’ve been so caught up in this crazy whirlwind. It’s been one thing after the other. But good. It’s about time someone listened.

  Silvia’s been adorable, more adorable than ever. She must think she has a celebrity for a mami. It’s so good to see she’s doing better now. With all that’s been happening, I fear I haven’t given her all the attention and comfort she needs. It’s made me feel like a bad parent. God knows where Diego is. I sense Silvia’s hate for him growing. My poor little Luna. But she looks happy now, drawing there in the corner. She’s always in her happy place when she draws. Her right hand is covered in colourful pastel dust, as usual. My little genius. Who knows, maybe my baby girl will grow up to be a grande artiste.

  A faint whoosh startles me and suddenly I’m staring at Pancho, the teenage son of one of my co-workers.

  ‘Hey! What on earth are you doing? You can’t just come flying in here unannounced. What’s up?’

  ‘Señora you have to come quick,’ he pants.

  ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Señora… they’ve sold the forest.’

  I drop my coffee. I don’t even say goodbye to Silvia. I run.

  *

  The doorbell rang and Jack and I both jumped.

  ‘Shit,’ I said.

  Max. It was six already.

  ‘Oh my god,’ I said, clasping my face in my hands. I suddenly registered that I was in the middle of the hardest and most honest conversation I’d ever had. A feeling of utter despair rushed through my body. Oh my god, what have I done?

  ‘Silvia?’ said Jack.

  I was silent, I couldn’t speak.

  ‘Your dad… I’m so sorry to hear,’ he was shaking his head.

  The doorbell rang again.

  I got up without looking at him.

  ‘What happened to the forest?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, you’ll have to leave Jack.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ He got up.

  My memory of Jack leaving and Max coming in is a blur, I don’t even remember how that all panned out. I only remember desperately avoiding eye contact with both. For the next couple of hours I barely spoke. It was lucky that Max was used to me being hot and cold. I couldn’t draw. Squiggles appeared on the paper but I was totally absent. I was a burning tangled mess of nerves. My head felt as though it would explode with adrenaline. I was terrified.

  At eight o’clock, when I shut the door behind Max after saying a vacant goodbye, I ran to the kitchen, opened a cupboard, pulled out a bottle of wine and poured it down my throat, crying and spluttering as I gulped.

  Why the fuck did I trust him?

  I would have to tell him everything now.

  Mountains

  For days after Jack left my apartment he’d tried calling me and I didn’t pick up. He texted me and I didn’t reply. He wanted to see me and he wanted to know more. Could I blame him? We hadn’t even got to the good bits of the story yet.

  The taste of terror lingered in my mouth. I trusted him, but I couldn’t help feeling as though somebody else knew what I was doing. I always felt like I was being watched.

  By the fifth day I got tired of ignoring him. I was resigned. It was unavoidable now. I’d already gone too far.

  I sat down and mulled over my options. If I was going to tell him everything I didn’t want to do it at my apartment. And I didn’t want to do it anywhere that anyone could overhear. I wanted to be away, far away, somewhere isolated.

  I wanted to be in the mountains. In the mountains you can be alone, and you know when you are alone, because you can see all around. I hadn’t been in the mountains for years.

  Meet me at the entrance to the Paso Picacho campground at 11am on Tuesday. I finally sent him a text message. The Paso Picacho campground is the place to start for the Cuyamaca Peak hike. I’d never been before but, according to my research, it looked like a good place, and on a weekday the route was bound to be less crowded. We were more likely to be alone. I hoped my phone wasn’t being tapped.

  *

  I thought I’d be waiting for him, but as the taxi pulled up I saw him, already there, waiting in the shade. I paid the driver, and as I opened the door was overwhelmed by the smell of pine.

  ‘Hey,’ I said.

  I got my notes out – directions to the trailhead – and asked if he was happy for us to go for a walk.

  ‘The Cuyamaca Peak?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Glad I’m wearing comfortable shoes.’

  We walked to the trailhead in silence. We’d abandoned my notes because he already knew the way. It was a perfectly clear, warm summer’s day and the smell of earth and wood felt so fresh. Light zapped through the trees and as branches swayed in the breeze, their shadows danced along the trail. Twigs crunched beneath our feet. A woodpecker drummed on a tree somewhere nearby. I asked myself why I hadn’t been there before.

  We engaged in a bit of small talk, which we both knew was utterly pointless and stupid. He asked me how I’d been, and hinted at the unanswered calls and messages. I turned to him.

  ‘Look,’ I whispered, even though there was no one around, ‘do you have any idea how strange all this is for me? I should never have told you a thing.’ Then I shut up because I didn’t want to talk until we were out of the trees and I knew for absolute certain that we were alone. I told him this and he nodded. I think at that point he finally realised just how frightened I was.

  After two hours hiking I finally felt like I was calming down. He must think I’m insane. I thought. He must be wondering why on earth I’ve taken him all the way up here. And even I don’t know the exact answer to that.
Fear and paranoia primarily, but also a deep urge to get out of the city. A longing for open space and new horizons. Perhaps it all sounds very poetic now, but I needed those mountains that day.

  ‘Should we rest?’ I pointed to a group of boulders a few metres off the trail.

  ‘Sure.’

  I looked around as we sat down. We were totally alone. We hadn’t seen a single person for over an hour. It was almost eerie.

  My lungs were full of new air and my head full of new perspective. High up there in those mountains I finally felt I had a voice. I was ready to speak. I was ready to let him in again.

  *

  Silvia: Tuesday 4 November 1997

  I don’t know who that naughty boy is and what he said when he came into our house like that without even knocking on our door but whatever it was Mami did not look happy. She spilled her coffee all over the table and now she is gone. I pick up my pastels and papers and I follow her because I want to know why she is gone and where she is going and what is happening but she is so much faster than me and I can barely keep up. She sees me and she says go back Silvia but I don’t go back because I want to be with her and I want to know what is happening.

  And now I’m tired of running and we are in a room that looks like a classroom except instead of children the room is full of all sorts of other people and I don’t like it because I don’t know anybody and I feel really small. It looks like people are serious and like everything is important, but I don’t feel very important, and I don’t want to make anyone angry so I go and I sit down in a corner and stay out of the way. I sit there for a really long time and more and more people are coming into the room and I am just waiting and wondering what is happening. Mami is talking one by one to everyone in the room but I don’t want to go and ask her anything because I feel like if I do someone might get angry or trample on me. Then the room goes silent and Mami and some other people are saying things at the front of the room and the other people are listening and they are sighing and I even see that there is a lady who is crying and then people start to talk louder and a man is shouting and there is a lot of angriness and sadness because the bad people are going to destroy our forest.