So long, marriage! Take care, church, and the words of the pastor — in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part! So long, love — where did you go? Time, come judge me! But no one else is going to do that. I have to judge myself.
And you shouldn’t lie to yourself, shouldn’t lie to anyone — freedom is always right there with you. You just get up one morning and go.
Freedom is always within arms’ reach.
The trip home lasts twice as long because she tries not to think about anything. And when you think of nothing, time drags on. The wheels of the train clang, the thick, grainy August air thumps in the open windows, nothing is happening.
Ieva doesn’t seem aware of herself or others — she stares at the window. It’s growing dark.
Now she’s alone. She’ll have to figure out how to live on — naked, without Andrejs’s shirt. But she wants to put off that train of thought.
People look at her, study her face. People see everything. That’s what the species is like.
She puts on her headphones, “Bright Red,” cloaks herself in the icy fringe of the music. One by one, the passengers break down and dissipate, frozen in frosty crescents. All that remains is the darkness, the darkness, the darkness, and the inviting red eyes of the semaphore, so trustworthy and present along the entire road of life.
So here are the questions: is time long or is it wide?
And the answers? Sometimes the answers
just come in the mail. And one day you get that letter
you’ve been waiting for forever. And everything it says
is true. And then in the last line it says:
Burn this. We’re in record.
Ieva gets out at the Central Station in Riga and keeps walking along the Railway Bridge, crossing the river. Her fingers feel for the Virgin Mary around her neck. No one stops her; she doesn’t think about whether or not she’s allowed to cross here. She wants to throw the Virgin Mary into the deepest part of the Daugava River. Let the stream weave her into the sand and sediment. The Virgin Mary is most definitely on Andrejs’s side, Christ is on his side, and both of them — Mother and Son — look down on Ieva disapprovingly from the heavens.
The Railway Bridge.
Riga shines evenly on both sides.
A black river down the middle. No sweet little Daugava here, friends. It’s a massive current, wide and threatening.
It’s raining.
Trains move in both directions on the bridge. Ieva presses closely against the rail when they go past. The conductors look at her in surprise.
Over the middle of the Daugava Ieva sees a dark figure walking toward her. She slows her pace and crosses to the other side of the bridge. The figure crosses, too. It turns out to be a uniformed Railway Bridge guard with a nightstick on his belt.
“Your permit, please!”
Ieva answers:
“Permit? I don’t have one.”
The guard orders:
“Then you have to go back! You can’t walk on this bridge.”
Ieva looks over his shoulder, the river once again throws the rushing sound of her own blood back into her ears.
“No walking?”
The guard is annoyed:
“No! Like you’re from another planet… No one can walk on the Railway Bridge. Turn around! And fast. Otherwise the police will get involved.”
Ieva goes back, and on the way she rips the Virgin Mary from around her neck and throws her over the rail into the water. Ieva falls into the wet grass next to the bridge supports and pounds the ground with her fists. Why can’t she live to honor this beautiful, thick grass?
A thought suddenly comes to her that has her immediately on her feet.
What if she’s?…
Pregnant!
She trips and stumbles as she moves and only now realizes that she’s completely frozen, hanging around the bridge with just her jacket and no shirt, and in a downpour no less!
She buys a pregnancy test in a 24-hour pharmacy and races across the wet sidewalks to Fanija’s apartment. The city smells like it never has before.
Thank God she’s at least able to be alone tonight!
Ieva goes quietly into her room, closes the door, and opens the window. The coolness of the mud in the courtyard rises up between the buildings to meet the night sky. It’s so rare she gets to be alone. She melts with the dimly glinting creases in the curtain.
Morning. She has to wait until morning.
She sighs heavily and undresses, puts on a soft cotton t-shirt, and falls asleep clutching Monta’s big stuffed bear.
A yellow-green and bright sun shines through the maple tree and draws a shifting, trembling design on the staircase. Fanija opens the bathroom door on the landing. Ieva stands and studies the pregnancy test, which slowly reveals a single line.
Fanija speaks:
“Ieva, I already told you to make sure to put the key back. I couldn’t get into my bathroom all day yesterday!”
Ieva answers:
“I’m sorry.”
Fanija asks:
“What’s that?”
Ieva:
“A test. I’m not pregnant.”
Fanija tries to understand the situation, then dismisses it with a wave of her hand and says:
“So no miracle, then.”
Ieva asks:
“Miracle?”
Fanija answers:
“Sure. It would’ve been a little angel sent to the rescue. But no.”
She continues:
“You know, it’s been two years since my son disappeared — I told you once already — he went out one morning for milk and just never came back… yes, Ieva, let’s go… and you know, after that a large bird landed on my windowsill and tapped on the window a few times, clearly, slowly, with a pause between each one! And then I understood! I understood everything!”
Ieva offers Fanija her arm, and they slowly head back up the well-worn stairs. Fanija continues:
“Thank you, thank you! That bird, you know, it tapped maybe three times. And, quite frankly, I understood. I’ve already waited two years. I have to wait one more, Ieva. My son’ll return in a year. A miracle, right? But I understood.”
Ieva asks:
“How old are you now, Fanija?”
Fanija answers, a bit short of breath:
“Eighty-four, Ieva. I’m bored of waiting and paying a pretty sum for this apartment, but what can I do? Think about it! But I’m doing well. I found a fifty-santim coin on the stairs today. How d’you like that?”
As they go up, Ieva listens to Fanija’s words, understands what she says, and asks questions. But at the same time she feels with every cell in her body how much she misses Monta’s smell and face, the dog’s energy, her mother’s unsolicited advice, the playground and store, shopping and trains, and the sky — wide open one morning and closed the next.
And she manages to see Andrejs — it’s a tenth of a second, a scene from her memory of one spring morning at the Zari house — maybe it’s the flicker of the sunspots underfoot that triggered it? Ieva remembers a similar morning with sun, she sees Andrejs, how he looks as he stands in the apple orchard next to the stone rubble of the barn, where all the trees are blossoming. There’s a chainsaw at his feet and, as he looks at the twisted sweet cherry tree in front of him, he says to it: