P.S.
And I soon grow tired of all the markets,
But they still stay in my memory.
Forward, my dream horses,
Forward, my haggard friends!
Let the headwind count our ribs,
Afterward it can bite us where it wants.
The rain rips us from eternity
And already washes away our footprints.
— M. Melgalvs
* * *
Hello!
I’m writing you quickly and in tears, because the stable owner Austrums was shot dead last night. He showed up at Zari last fall — he’d stopped in to meet his neighbors, say hello, and ask about partnership opportunities. Austrums wanted to build the first golf course in Latvia here. He already owns a hundred hectares, but our field by the corner of the forest with the big pine tree could be of use to him. And we were willing to give it to him — there’s more sand than grass there anyway, and it’s worthless for the livestock. Austrums was very sociable — on the short side, attentive eyes, as easy-going as a strand of seaweed in a current. He invited us to golf lessons, showed us how to swing a club and how to stand. The stable employees were also there — we laughed and made friends with them.
He drove out from Riga every weekend. Built a sauna by the pond — almost everyone from our country’s new government would drive out to drink there Saturday nights. Aksels would grumble about it sometimes — at night the drunk men would go to see the horses and let them into the pasture, then wake up Aksels to help get them back and out of the farmers’ crops! There were problems with the bunch from Riga, but on the other hand — things were active, lively, hopeful! The stables were renovated, the pastures sown with grass, the mass amounts of endless mud gone. There was a sense of hope in the air.
And now — shot dead! Then he was torched in the woods just outside Riga, in his car. Did robbers do it? Or the government? Everyone is stumbling around with sad expressions. No one can believe something like that happened. The first person shot since the Awakening. I can still see him clearly — as alive as a person can be. Those friends of his who spent every weekend at the lake and sat next to him drinking in the sauna, they’re all on the news now shrugging their shoulders and claiming to have never met him in their lives.
There’re rumors around here that the baron cursed his land before he died, so that no one living on it would ever feel happy. But those are just stupid stories—
I’m worried — Ieva
* * *
Pāvil, hey!
You scold me for not writing.
If only you knew.
Oh I don’t even care.
I’ll just give you the facts. Nice and simple. Please don’t be surprised.
You already know about Aksels. Stase was his mother. Was, because the forester’s house burned down. They say she fell asleep smoking. Drunk, maybe. Everyone here has taken up drinking. I don’t even know when it started. But now we drive to Madara every Saturday.
Oh I don’t even care.
What else is there to do here? At least the bar is fun, there are people. Champagne. Boys from the neighboring village drive out here, start fights with the local boys. There’s some kind of strength inside us, it’s crazy, I don’t know, I’ve got a lot of power inside me. There’s nowhere to put it. So we drink. Of course I’m embarrassed. One night I stepped out of the bar to get some fresh air, and I fell onto all fours. I got up and then fell backwards. And then again — on all fours. And then — backwards. Someone helped me up, I staggered to the bathroom to wash my hands, looked at myself in the mirror and thought: Ieva, you?
Gran also gives me disapproving looks, says I’m abandoning my child.
I’ve even started smoking.
Oh I don’t even care.
It’s fun to dance at the bar, to let loose. To drive around from one party to the next. It’s even fun the morning after, I like it. I feel awful, but experience some kind of inner peace.
Stase said it’s suicide. Told us to leave for the city as soon as possible, that we’ll rot alive out here. The countryside is death. That’s the only reason she moved out here, to find death. I thought she was a great woman, just that she’d have these bouts of anger where she’d hit anything that came within arm’s reach.
She was such a smart woman, but kind of — ravaged by life. Ah, whatever, what am I saying, she was herself. Like Jonsy. Stase was Stase. Without any pretenses. Everything she did was spontaneous and her own, she could be terrifying one second and the kindest person in the world the next. But no matter what she was, she was herself. Even the burning was such a Stase type of death. Even as she burned, she lived. The whole fire was awful. When Aksels got back home in the morning, he opened the window. And everything inside just exploded instantly. That’s what happens, if things have already started to smolder, oxygen creates an explosion. Stase was standing and just went up in a column of fire. I don’t think Aksels will ever get over it. He didn’t even go to the funeral, just stayed back in the bushes and glowered at everything like a wolf. His heart is breaking, you know, but Andrejs just laughs. It’s awful.
The times when Aksels wasn’t able to, Stase would go in his place and chase the horses out of the crops and back to the stables when the enclosures were broken. She’d catch the fastest horse and ride it bareback, with just the halter. She’d gallop ahead of them all like some kind of vision, a sorceress! Everyone’s going to remember her like that — with her hair flowing behind her as she rides the fastest horse.
Aksels is living with me at the Zari house now. Everything is so screwed up for me with these men. Aksels and I — how do I put it — well we just couldn’t live without each other anymore, but we didn’t say anything to anyone, didn’t even admit it to ourselves. But Andrejs sensed something, would look at us hatefully, grew even more aggressive towards me, in the end I even cried at how hard-hearted one person could be!
Of course Gran also scolded me, but lovingly. She had seen and knew everything. Now she’s gone back to the seaside. Oh I don’t even care. I’m sick of being the bad guy. It’s better if nobody sees it.
Back then, the three of us would drive around to the bars as a group. Sometimes we’d take other friends with us. And that one time on the way to the bar, a rabbit jumped out of the wheat field right in front of the car. I begged Andrejs to brake for it, but he went after it like a maniac until he ran it down. He even pulled over to throw the carcass into the trunk, so I’d stew it for breakfast. But the rabbit hadn’t been run over, just knocked back into the wheat field — its screams ripped through the quiet of the night. Andrejs was drunk, he couldn’t find it. I got out of the car and started walking home, but he blocked my way and forced me back into the car.
And then — at the bar! Whether it was revenge or a breakdown, I don’t know. More likely it was some third thing.
That beautiful song “Black Velvet” was playing, you know the one. And I went to dance with Aksels. A slow dance. The first time ever with him. I didn’t care anymore. He didn’t either. We only saw each other in this crazy, fucked-up world. It really was more of a breakdown.
And toward the end he kissed me. For the first time.
But I pulled away, recovered, and then saw — guess what? Andrejs’s eyes. He was standing by the wall and watching us carefully.
I panicked! Because everything happened so spontaneously, you know, I still didn’t realize anything, just got scared — for Aksels, for me, for Andrejs. What’s going to happen to us now! And I ran home through the morning fog like a scared little puppy. Barefoot, with my shoes in my hands. Andrejs followed behind me in the car and tried to run me down the entire way. I’d just keep jumping into the ditch and then back out again. It was awful!