Until the Dawn's Light_ A Novel - Aharon Appelfeld [50]
Blanca still didn’t understand everything that was being told to her. She still was overcome with fatigue.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me anymore,” she said, as she fell asleep.
In the middle of the night Blanca awoke, terrified.
“What’s the matter?” Sonia asked.
“I’m frightened.”
“Of what?”
“I saw Otto near a deep pit, and I couldn’t save him.”
38
FROM THEN ON, Otto never faded from Blanca’s view. She heard his voice in every corner, and on every floor she saw him crawling to her.
After a few days of fear, Blanca was about to return home, but at the last minute she changed her mind. She knew that Adolf would make a sour face and say, “Why did you come back?”
At night Sonia would sit on Blanca’s bed and tell her about her childhood and youth. While she was studying in high school, she had been a communist, and her boyfriend was also a communist. The two of them were going to go to Switzerland. But once, as though in passing, her boyfriend said to her that the Jews stood in the way of redemption because they were petits bourgeois in their souls and that the revolution was hateful to them. At first she didn’t catch the meaning of his words, but once she did, she understood that old-style anti-Semitism was coming from his mouth. That very week she broke off her connection with him and with the party.
Were it not for her nightmares, Blanca would have been immersed in the hard work. But they would return each night and bring Otto with them. Now Otto looked like baby Jesus lying on a pile of straw. The yellowish colors surrounding him looked unpleasant.
“Otto!” she would cry, alarmed. Hearing her voice, he would move a little, but he wouldn’t respond, as though he had been kidnapped and wrapped up like a mummy.
Blanca slept very little, so as not to see Otto in the figure of Jesus. She sat in the kitchen, and if one of the residents was hungry or couldn’t sleep, she would sneak a sandwich to him.
Elsa lived outside the old age home, but she had informers—two janitors who flattered her and told her what was happening in the home at night. Luckily for the other workers, the janitors were sound asleep after midnight, and not even shouts could awaken them.
Sonia also told Blanca about her father, a wise, sensitive man who had studied philology for two years but whose hatred of Jews was boundless. Every time he spoke about them, his rage would burn. When Sonia was little, her mother used to object to his prejudices, but in time she stopped. She had gotten used to his arguments and even believed them a little. Once Sonia had been very close to her parents, but over the years a barrier of alienation had arisen between them. Now all she wanted to do was get to Kolomyja, her mother’s birthplace.
“What do you expect to find?”
“I don’t know, but my heart tells me that I have to go there.”
“I would very much like to join you, but I’m shackled.”
When Blanca laid her head on the pillow, Otto came back, looking out at her from the long oil paintings that hung on the walls of the church. A cold, sad, puzzled expression appeared on his pure face, as though he were wondering, What am I doing here, and what will my fate be when morning comes? Dry plants and people bent over with hunger surrounded him on every side, but Otto was lost in his amazement and ignored their plots against him.
“Dear,” Blanca whispered to him, “watch out for those people. They’re plotting and liable to harm you.”
Hearing her voice, his lips parted and he said, “Don’t forget. I’m Jesus Christ, and no one can harm me.”
“But you’re also my son,” Blanca said, alarmed.
“Correct, Mother, but no one knows that.”
For a moment Blanca was happy, but when she woke up, her head was spinning, her heart was pounding,