Sworn Virgin (20 page)

‘Did you write any more poems?'

‘I've been too busy taking care of myself,' she answers warily.

He lifts his arms, cocks his head to one side and smiles candidly.

‘It's weird,' he says. ‘I was sure I'd met people with the most tragic and unique stories. I have always traveled to their countries to seek them out: Nicaragua, Argentina, Lebanon, Pakistan, Bosnia. Yet now I'm here with you and I've just heard the most incredible story. You go around the world digging out stories and the real gem is sitting there right next to you. No cliché has ever been more true.'

He stops and thinks for a moment, then asks Hana about her family in Rockville. She tells him about Lila, Shtjefën, and especially about Jonida. She describes them in minute detail, and she tells him about how scared she is now that she has to manage her everyday life on her own after the months she spent at their house. A mountain girl like me, who'd never even seen a credit card, she tells him; she wasn't so sure she'd succeed.

She goes back to talk about Jonida, adding more stories. He listens attentively. Or maybe he's just developed the art of looking interested while his mind wanders over more distant pastures. He is a journalist, after all, Hana thinks.

‘I'm talking too much, sorry.'

He takes her hand, as if to reassure her, and tightens his grip momentarily.

‘No, I'm sorry,' he says. ‘I'm still bowled over.'

He suggests going out for a short walk. Hana is embarrassed to say no. She's not used to this kind of thing, and it would be really nice to be taken home, she's pretty tired.

O'Connor gestures for the bill and then turns towards Hana, looking at her softly.

‘I always take one step at a time,' Hana says. ‘I don't know if you understand.'

‘I'll take you home. But don't say we won't see one another again. I have a list of questions this long to ask
you.'

‘Slowly does it,' she says. ‘I need time. Anyway, I don't expect anything from you. I don't expect any friendship. This meeting might be enough for
me.'

‘If we can't get away from this idea of obligation,' Patrick says, ‘then we may as well forget the whole thing. All I'm offering is my pleasure in seeing you again, and understanding your story. It's up to
you.'

On their way back to Hana's house, she stares out of the car window, wondering where she should put her hands, still resting in her lap for now. She lifts them and crosses her arms. That's better; she feels more in control. O'Connor is on Route 270, and politely waiting for her to speak first. But Hana feels more comfortable with silence. The evening is still glorious. Every building looks elegantly somber, the outlines of the trees in formation like guards on
duty.

It's nice to be back in her studio apartment. Rockville is more than home. It's the perfect refuge for her quiet bewilderment.

Everyone is alone at the
‌
heart of the earth
…
¹²
Her and the trees and the asphalt desecrated by the cars taking solitude out for a
ride.

When he stops the car, he shakes her hand. Like a year and a half ago, as if he were saying goodbye to a man not a woman. She feels it. What is this? Are you flirting with him? she asks herself critically, as she goes up the stairs.

She can't sleep that night. She listens to the silence, staring at the ceiling. At around three in the morning she gets up and goes over to Nick, the computer, waiting on standby. She furiously types a page of disconnected thoughts and the process of writing arouses her. She feels she wants to touch herself, and she does so without any sense of shame. She plays with herself but she can't reach the peak of pleasure she feels is there waiting, and so she stops, tired out. She readjusts her summer pajamas. She apologizes to herself, turns Nick off, and goes back to bed, waiting for sleep that refuses to embrace
her.

The next day, before going to the bookstore, she scribbles through the words ‘Call O'Connor!' on the note in the kitchen, leaving only the exclamation mark, and goes out, whistling.

A few days later, Jonida is over at her place for the weekend. Hana gives her the lowdown on her dinner with O'Connor. Her niece is wearing pink pajamas from Victoria's Secret, with ‘HOT' embroidered over her behind. The chest-hugging top is bright orange, with pink lace on the shoulder straps. Jonida's hair is bunched into two braids like Pippi Longstocking.

They've just finished eating. Hana made an Indian dish, basmati rice with eggplant, which she's very proud of. She's trying out recipes from around the world, with occasionally disastrous results. Jonida stares hard at
her.

‘Go on, tell me more. That can't be it. At least I hope it's not,' she pleads.

‘Of course that's it. What else d'you want me to say?' Hana teases.

‘You didn't tell me you were going to call him, though.'

‘Yeah, right. You think I was going to say: “I have to call Patrick O'Connor”?'

‘We promised we wouldn't hide anything from each other,' her niece objects. ‘And now you're behaving just like
Mom.'

‘And how would that
be?'

‘She decides which promises she wants to keep.'

Hana clears away the plate of rice and gives Jonida a salad plate. She serves both of them. They've seen less of one another recently. Jonida is really busy at school, studying with ferocious determination and a genuine ambition to make something of her
life.

For weeks at a time she is absent from the world of the three adults in her family. Lila is really upset about it. Shtjefën manages to stay close by playing basketball with her occasionally. They go out and shoot a few hoops and come back home arguing furiously. Her father says she fouls all the time and Jonida counters by saying her father's so short of breath he can't keep up with her anymore. She's strangely sure of herself for a teenager. She's unusual in that she's pragmatic and sensitive at the same
time.

Hana watches her devour the salad. Once, she asked Lila how Jonida would have turned out if she'd grown up in the mountains back home. Lila answered straight off that her daughter would have got herself into deep trouble. She would never have accepted the rigid mentality and suffocating social control of the clan, and no way would she have accepted having to submit to a man. ‘She's like you, Hana,' her cousin concluded.

Everyone comes to a conclusion. At the end of every sentence, there is a period. Nobody openly expresses perplexity or doubt. This is a typically American quality, she thinks. Hana doesn't like the idolatry of the winner, of the over-confident. Jack felt the same, though he worked his butt off trying to climb the social ladder, and always considered himself a failure.

Jack had recently found a new girlfriend. She was cute and quiet, from St Kitts, where his numerous family also came
from.

‘This is the honeymoon period, baby, then she'll probably leave me,' he would say to Hana, over and over. ‘I've had plenty of experience of women changing their mind and leaving.'

Jack used to call her ‘honey,' ‘friend,' ‘cutie.' He knew Hana spent her time writing.

‘You want stories to write?' he asked her one day. They were at her house, a plate of spaghetti with meat sauce in front of them. ‘I'll tell you the story of my family and you'll have plenty to write about.'

Hana answered that she had enough stories inside her to last two lives, not one. He disagreed and said she may have some harsh experiences to write about but they were nothing compared to those of the African Americans.

‘So, my stories are about whites,' Hana argued, growing more irritated. ‘Why is that supposed to matter?'

‘It's just not the same thing, and it can't be more dramatic.'

‘Jack, is this a competition about who has suffered the most
now?'

‘You can put it that way if you want.'

He had had a little to drink before getting to her apartment. He was drinking as he was speaking. He was particularly sad that day and Hana didn't dare ask
why.

‘Go tell your story to someone who can write, then,' she said, trying to bring the discussion to a close. ‘I sell books and I read them. I don't write them.'

Jack reminded her that the fairytale Hana had invented for his daughter Taneea's birthday was beautiful.

‘Why don't you want to hear my story, Hana?' he insisted.

‘When I'm ready I'll tell you
why.'

‘Why are you so nervous today?'

‘I don't know.'

But she did know. The fact was that Jack was generous and she wasn't. If Hana never got to know Jack's family's secrets, it would be easier for her never to let her demons
out.

‘You're some tough nut, you know,' Jack grumbled, as he went out onto the balcony to smoke a cigarette. After a while they called a truce.

‘When are you bringing Gabrielle over to dinner? I'd like you to meet Lila and Shtjefën,' Hana said. ‘We can do something more useful than telling each other our sob stories.'

Jack looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first
time.

‘Try understanding the first thing about you, cutie.'

Gabrielle, who was a professional nurse, would be able to encourage Lila to enroll in the nursing school. Her cousin was scared of making a wrong move. After speaking with Shtjefën, Hana wanted to help Lila make a decision, but she wanted to do it so discreetly that Lila wouldn't even notice.

‘You're one big egotist, Hana Doda,' Jack had said. ‘But I love you anyway.'

Jonida gets up from the table. She's finished her salad and she stares at Hana impatiently.

‘If you go on just sitting there without saying anything, I'm out of here.'

‘Sorry, I was somewhere else for a minute.'

Jonida pulls a face. Hana gets up too and thrusts her hands in her pockets.

‘You're a nightmare,' she protests, laughing. ‘You're always threatening
me.'

‘But it works, right? You were thinking about O'Connor, weren't you? Come on, tell me the truth.' Jonida takes a bottle of mineral water from the fridge.

‘No, I wasn't. I was thinking about your mom being scared to go to nursing school, and about Jack. I swear. I wasn't thinking about Patrick.'

‘Why? What's the big deal if you were thinking about
him?'

‘There's no big deal, but there's not much to think about either. He's just a journalist who's interested in the Balkans and who wanted to understand things, that's
all.'

Jonida looks at her. She pauses to think, and a shadow of sadness crosses her
face.

‘A friend of mine's mom died yesterday,' she says, changing the subject. ‘A heart attack. She'd never had any problems. She was, like, forty. She was really nice. I met her a few times at basketball games. She was a bit like Mom, you know. They're Italians, from Catania? Giovanni, my friend, he's going over there now to bury his
mom.'

Hana mumbles something like ‘I'm sorry,' which Jonida doesn't even
hear.

‘Well, I said to Mom and Dad, if there's one thing you must never do to me, it's die. Never never never.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘And you too,' Jonida says, interrupting her. ‘It's the same for you. Don't try playing some kind of fucked-up joke on me for at least a hundred years, do you hear me? I want you all here with
me.'

‘Jonida, love
…'

‘You're just not allowed,
ok?'

She gets up, turns her back to Hana and starts washing the dishes.

Patrick O'Connor gets in touch in the first week of June. He gets right to the point and asks whether she'd like to meet him somewhere.

‘I waited for you to call, as we agreed, but since you didn't, I decided to go against my word,' he
says.

Hana is frying
qofte
and the pan is sizzling happily. The call makes her so nervous she turns the hot plate off and starts striding back and forth. She yearns for a cigarette; there's a pack she has kept hidden away
–
who knows why
–
in the bureau drawer. She lights one and takes a deep drag, feeling immediately giddy.

‘Hana, are you still there?' Patrick
says.

‘You decided to waste your time on me?' Hana asks ironically, looking at herself in the mirror.

‘So, when shall we meet?'

Hana opens her mouth wide in mute celebration, then she clears her voice.

‘I'd prefer not to go to a restaurant this time,' she says, choosing her words carefully. ‘You end up paying the bill and I can't even play the role of saying we can split it. It wouldn't be honest, because my finances are very—'

‘I can add up,' O'Connor interrupts. ‘I've lived in the US all my life. So, what do you suggest?'

‘I don't want to come over to your place either.'

She moves out of the corridor to avoid the reflection of the mirror, which is making her nervous.

‘It looks like there's nowhere in the world where we can meet and have a chat,' he jokes.

‘If it's no big deal for you, why don't you come over to my place?' Hana says, surprising herself and immediately regretting her words.

O'Connor says he doesn't want to make things difficult for her. He'd like to see her but if every time it turns into a drama
…

‘So, would you come round here tonight?' She feels protected in her little apartment. ‘I've made enough food for an army. I don't know why, I got the amounts wrong. Are you used to weird food?'