Frightened by the feverish mood suddenly taking over the back of the house, which was rapidly diffused through the nerves of the walls, along with a mixture of voices, laughter and sobbing, I stood up, dazed, to shut the bedroom door just when it seemed the stern words of the head of the household had checked the emotional outburst; and I could still hear a reverberating, echoing silence when my door was opened, my bedroom light switched on and my father’s image appeared in all its rustic majesty, walking gravely toward me; I stood up right away, staring at the floor and suffering the heaviness of his presence before me; I soon felt his gentle hands on my head, running through my hair down the back of my neck and dropping slowly over my shoulders, then he held me to his chest with his strong arms and took my face between his hands to kiss my forehead; once again I was staring at the floor when he said, damp and solemn, ‘Blessed be this day of your return! Our home has been withering away, my son, but it is once again filled with joy.’
And looking at me, holding back his tenderness, studying my tattered features at length, forewarning me of the conversation we were to have a little later on, after everything had calmed down, and also reminding me that I should be restrained with my mother, sparing her, above all, the memory of the days of my absence, my father then told me to bathe, to cleanse myself of the dust from the journey before sitting down to the meal my mother had prepared for me. He had barely let go of me when my sisters burst noisily through the door, throwing themselves at me, hanging from my neck, ruffling up my hair, kissing my face over and over again, running their hands over my back and chest through my shirt, laughing and crying at the same time, all the while rambling on, even awkwardly at times, abruptly revealing that Ana, so pious since my departure, had run to the chapel to give thanks upon hearing the news of my arrival, and that the house had been lit up for the same reason, any passersby would delight in its brightness, and that preparations for tomorrow’s fête to celebrate my resurgence were already underway, everyone was to be invited that very night, our neighbours, along with friends and relatives from the village, and that it was the greatest blessing the family had ever received, my homecoming had brought back the lost joy twofold, and filled with warmth and enthusiasm, they pulled me from the room, grabbing me by my arms, and I, gloomy, barely able to conceal my disgusting eyes, let them lead me from the bedroom as they carried on, tenderly flooding me with their silly thoughts, and as soon as we got into the hall, they pushed me through the bathroom door, and sat me down on a crate, and as Rosa, standing behind me, bent over with her arms around my shoulders and started unbuttoning my shirt, Zuleika and Huda, kneeling at my feet, took care of removing my shoes and socks, and as I sat there, surrendering to my sisters’ care, I became gradually aware of the zeal surrounding me, the scalding water in the tub had already cooled, there was a cup within reach, a bath towel hanging up, a bar of fragrant soap, rare in our house, a worn-out pair of slippers, not to mention the pyjamas, clean and pressed, that I had forgotten under my pillow when I left; I was barefoot and they had already taken off my shirt when they left the bathroom fleetingly, and as Rosa, the eldest sister, closed the door behind her, she warned me I had only five minutes to reappear before the family’s eyes, and in the meantime, they were going to make sure our mother was ready to see me.
Disturbed by the turbulence of those caresses, although somewhat revived by the water, I left the bathroom a few minutes later, sensing the softness of my cotton pyjamas, my feet comfortable in the loose slippers and the subtle fragrance of the soap on my body. Rosa was waiting by herself, sitting pensively in the living room, she seemed not to notice me when I first walked into the hall, but as soon as she saw me, she came right over, congratulating me on my bath, pulling me toward the living room, her face softened by a calm smile, she, who was so sensible, said, ‘Listen to me, Andrula: you have to be careful with Mother, she hasn’t been the same at all since you left; be generous, brother, don’t be sullen with her, at least talk to her a little, but not about anything sad, that’s all I ask of you; and now go in to see her, she’s in the kitchen waiting for you, hurry up; meanwhile, I’m going to help get ready for your party tomorrow, Zuleika and Huda have already got started, they’re beside themselves with joy! God has answered our prayers!’ she said, and I felt the sweet pressure of her hand on my back, encouraging me to head down the hallway toward the kitchen, and I was already halfway there when it occurred to me that, although the entire house was lit up, even the bedrooms, it was completely silent and empty, most certainly the family was following Pedro’s recommendation, whose persuasive words, given an audience, bordered my father’s in terms of authority: I was infirm, required special care and should be spared for the first few hours, not to mention that they had the excuse of my party preparations.
I stopped at the kitchen door: solicitous of all change, rigorously marking the silence, our familiar wall clock was judiciously working through each second; and there was the old, solid, heavy table where the family gathered to eat their daily meals; at the far end, a single place had been set with a white cloth, and on it, the meal that awaited me; my mother was standing next to the head of the table, her broad body motionless, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, which she lowered as she sensed my presence; and it was only then I was able to see, despite the light shining through her eyes, how much damage I had done to that face.
24
This is how we used to sit around the table for meals, or for sermons: Father at the head, to his right, by order of age, first, Pedro, followed by Rosa, Zuleika and Huda; and to his left, Mother, followed by me, Ana, and then Lula, the youngest. The right branch was a spontaneous growth off the trunk, starting from its roots; the left, though, bore the stigma of a scar, as if Mother, from where the left side started, were an anomaly, a morbid protuberance, a graft on the trunk, perhaps even fatal, it was so weighed down with affection; it might even be said that the places at the table — the whims of time — defined the two lines of the family.
Grandfather, when he was alive, occupied the other place at the head; even after his death, which almost coincided with our move from the old house to the new, it would be an exaggeration to say his chair remained empty.
25
‘It pains my heart to see your face so blemished, son; this is your due for having abandoned our home for a prodigal life.’
‘Our home is also prodigal.’
‘What, my son?’
‘Our table has always been lavish.’
‘Our table is laid with moderation and austerity; there’s never been any excess, except for holidays.’
‘But we’ve always had good appetites.’
‘We’re allowed an appetite without affecting our dignity, as long as it’s moderate.’
‘But we eat until we’ve no more appetite; that’s how we’ve always left the table.’
‘Nature is generous in order to satisfy us, placing fruit within our reach, as long as we work to deserve it. If it weren’t for our appetite, we wouldn’t have the strength to obtain food to survive. Our appetite is sacred, son.’