Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [38]
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of whom?”
Adolf was the castle. But he didn’t know he was the castle, Blanca said to herself, sure that she would be saved in his presence.
She was sorry that just now, when she had found a tunnel to her old life and the secret things that were being deciphered for her, she had to leave this place and resume her wandering. Who knew what awaited her and whether she would again be able to see what she saw now. Over the past days she had been tense, leaping from topic to topic, trying to manage. But one idea led to another, and things got mixed up. For that reason, she decided that first she had to finish writing the episode of Adolf, for Otto’s sake. So that when the time came, he would know exactly what had happened and how. Until now she had ignored what was expected of her, but yesterday Otto had asked her about death again, and it was clear that the shadow was oppressing him.
“There is no death,” Blanca said, surprising him.
“Really?”
“I’ll always be with you, even if I’m not here. You can talk to me the way you’re talking to me now.”
“And is that how you talk to your mama?”
“Yes, exactly that way, my dear.”
28
THE HOSPITAL’S SITUATION worsened, and most of the patients were sent home. Blanca was among the last to go. Adolf didn’t greet her gladly and expressed his consternation about her appearance. During the past few weeks she had, indeed, recovered, but her knees were weak and her legs felt unsteady. But she made all his meals on time anyway. Adolf no longer slapped her face, but he still preached to her and criticized the way she roasted meat. Every word that came from his mouth struck her temples, and the fear that had receded throbbed within her once again.
The last few days had been very difficult for Dr. Nussbaum. The maintenance workers, who hadn’t received their salaries, first gathered in the courtyard and then went up to the top floor and overturned tables and cabinets. Dr. Nussbaum pleaded with them to stop.
“Why are you being hard on the patients?” he asked. But his words were in vain.
Dr. Nussbaum had been struggling with the Ministry of Health and the local authorities for years, as well as soliciting donations from wealthy people and persuading the workers to be patient. Usually he had managed to do the impossible. Now he stood in the hospital entrance and with shame escorted out those who were leaving it.
“Come see me soon,” he said to Blanca. She had intended to go to him on Friday, but then she remembered that on Sunday Adolf’s parents and his brothers and sisters would be coming, and there were no refreshments in the house. She immediately rushed to the butcher, and on Sunday at noon she served everyone at the table dumplings filled with meat and sauerkraut. When her mother-in-law asked how she felt, Blanca answered, “Much better.” At the end of the day, her head was spinning and she could barely drag herself to bed.
The next day, when Adolf came home his face was dark and angry. Blanca hurriedly served his meal, and he ate without complaining. Suddenly, without warning, he raised his voice and shouted, “Where are the pickled cucumbers?”
“I didn’t manage to make them yet,” Blanca answered promptly. Adolf rose to his feet, walked over to her, and slapped her. This time the slap wasn’t hard, and she didn’t fall down, but the words that he had kept in during the weeks that she hadn’t been there poured out of him in a frightening torrent.
“All the doctors are Jews. All the illnesses are Jewish, and the lawyers who defend the doctors are Jews. You shouldn’t learn from them. You have to be at home, not there. You