chapter twenty-seven
WE stop by the side of a stream and I harvest wild berries that haven’t yet ripened. It’s our only meal.
When night falls, we settle at the foot of a tree and I ask Gloria to tell me my story.
“Again?”
“Yes, again! With all the details!”
I rest my head against her chest. I can feel the bones of her rib cage under my cheek. She folds me into the lambskin blanket and sighs.
“It was the end of summer,” she begins. “I lived with old Vassili, my father, the one who gave me the samovar—”
“The one the Ukrainian thieves stole!” I burst out.
“Let’s forget about that, Koumaïl. At that time Vassili owned the most beautiful orchard in all of the Caucasus. Apple trees, pear trees … acres and acres covered with trees. On one side was a river; on the other, the railroad track.”
I lift my head and ask her if she knows what “Zemzem” means in Arabic. She seems surprised.
“Do you mean that you know?” she asks.
“ ‘Murmur of water,’ ” I say. “Fatima told me. It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Gloria doesn’t say anything, and for a long time we listen to the stream that flows in the darkness. Stars appear between the tree branches. I have a bitter taste of wild berries in my mouth, and my thoughts wander.
“In my opinion, Zemzem has become someone very important,” I declare. “That’s why he talked on TV. Only important people are shown on TV, right?”
“I don’t know,” Gloria whispers. “I don’t know.…”
Her voice falters like a candle in a draft. It’s obvious that tonight Gloria doesn’t have the energy to tell me my story. I close my eyes. In order to be less afraid of the darkness and the unknown, I call on my ghosts: Vassili and his huge mustache; Fotia and Oleg, with their athletic shoulders; Anatoly, who squints behind the thickness of his glasses; Iefrem, whose hair is curlier than a lamb’s; Dobromir, with his angelic smile; and Liuba, who sings with feeling. In my dreams they make a radiant family, a protective circle that surrounds me. They will always be with me wherever I go. Zemzem, too, shrouded in mystery and wearing his combat uniform.
I take Gloria’s hand and try to sleep, even though my stomach aches because of the unripe wild berries.