Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [47]
“What are you talking about?” he said, and headed out the door, as though she were nothing but a ghost.
In the end, it was Adolf himself who declared, “You have to go out to work.”
“How?” She was stunned.
“All the women work. My mother works, too.”
“And who’ll take care of Otto?”
“We’ll bring a woman in from the country.”
At first she deluded herself into believing that it was just a passing thought, but when he kept pressing her, she understood that he wouldn’t let up. A new fear possessed her. I’ll run away, she said to herself, but she knew she didn’t have the strength to go far: Adolf’s huge hand would reach her. Once he said to her, “I never miss a thing. I know all your intrigues.”
The next morning, after Adolf went to work, she prepared some sandwiches, dressed Otto, and they set out for Blumenthal. The old age home in Blumenthal was different from the one in Himmelburg. The building was spacious, and around it was a well-tended garden. The director of the place asked for information about Blanca’s life, and she told her.
“And who will take care of your child?”
“A country woman.”
“We’re very strict here about lateness and absence.”
“I’m orderly.”
“So, you’ll start in a week, on Tuesday at eleven o’clock. I’m writing it in my journal.”
When Adolf came home from work, she announced to him that she had found a temporary job in the old age home in Blumenthal. Without looking her in the eye, he said, “Fine. We have to find a woman from the country.” Later he asked when she would be starting her job, and Blanca told him.
It was a week of rain, fear, and great weakness. At night she begged, “Don’t press so hard on me. I can’t breathe.” Those pleas just increased his fury. But for some reason he didn’t hit her. Toward the end of the week she said, “Otto, I’m going out to work. I have no choice. What can I do?”
Blanca washed, ironed, and prepared clothing and bedding. The dread she felt at the thought of being forced to part from Otto in a few days clung to her body like a cloak of fire. Again she saw her mother’s prolonged, slow death. During the last months of her life, her mother had struggled to get up every morning and tidy the house. Her father would try to help her, but his assistance wasn’t effective. Her mother would say, “Erwin, why don’t you sit down and tell me something.”
“What should I tell you?”
“What you want to tell me.”
She tried to be especially pleasant to him, to renew the old hopes, and she managed to do so. Blanca’s father was elevated by his wife’s optimistic mood, and he began to make plans again. Her mother knew in her heart that the plans would lead to nothing, but she listened to everything he said. She knew that in a little while he wouldn’t have an attentive ear. In the last months of her life, her love had been soft and merciful. At the time, Blanca hadn’t grasped the wonder of it. Now it was as if the light of their faces shone again.
36
ON MONDAY ADOLF brought home a tall, strong woman from the country and said, “This is Kirtzl. Show her what to do in the house.”
“I’ll show her everything,” Blanca said in the tones of a maidservant, and went right out into the garden.
“This is the vegetable garden,” she said. “In this season there are eggplants, squash, and also cabbage.” Blanca looked at the woman closely: her face was full and flat, and a heavy smile hung on her lips.
“Do you water the garden?” Kirtzl asked stolidly.
“In weeks when there’s no rain.”
They passed on into the kitchen, and Blanca said, “There’s wood in the shed.”
“You don’t use charcoal?” Kirtzl asked in the same tone of voice.
“No,” Blanca said, and