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Authors: Aharon Appelfeld
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face.
The woman was called Maria, and she wasn’t married. Almost every night a different man would come into the hut, and they would shut themselves away together behind a curtain. At first they would talk and drink vodka, and afterwardthere’d be loud laughter and, in the end, silence. This sequence would repeat itself night after night. “Don’t be frightened,” I would say to myself, and yet I was. Along with the fear, sometimes there was a strange pleasure.
The night did not always end quietly. Occasionally an argument broke out. Maria didn’t mince her words; when she did not like something or thought that someone might be cheating her, she shouted in an awful, blood-curdling voice that could make the walls of the hut shudder. And if this wasn’t enough, she might also throw a plate, a shoe, or any other object that she could lay her hands on. But there were also nights that ended quietly, in kisses. The man would declare his love and promise to bring many presents, and Maria, for her part, laughed and teased.
Maria’s hut was one long room that was curtained off at one end. I would sit on the huge stove and eavesdrop. Sometimes I could not restrain myself and would peek through the cracks of the planks above the stove. I would usually be too frightened to see anything, but once I glimpsed Maria and she was completely naked. A warm pleasure washed over me.
Sometimes she would tell me to go outside and pick wildflowers. After picking them, I would fill jugs with water and thrust the stalks into them. Once, during a moment of fury, she grabbed one of the jugs and threw it right at the head of the tall peasant who was growling at her from deep in his throat, like a bear.
Maria knew no fear. When something did not please her, or when a man did not behave properly, she would hurl a stream of curses at him. If the man failed to apologize, or if the apology seemed inadequate, she would fling some object at him or throw him out of the hut. “You witch!” I heard a man shout at her on more than one occasion.
She had three wooden tubs in her hut. In the smallestshe washed her feet: in the medium one she would wash her body after a client had left; and the third one, the largest, was the bathtub where she would pamper herself. She would soak herself in it for hours on end, singing, chattering away, reminiscing, or even confessing. More than once I observed her lounging in the large tub, submerged in the water, a long, lazy creature that even the large tub could not contain.
Suddenly it was winter, and the men no longer came as before. Maria would sit by the table shuffling cards. Playing with them amused her. Sometimes she would burst out laughing, but at other times her face would suddenly darken and she would let out a shriek. Once, during one of her black moments, when the sandwich that I’d served her was not to her liking, she grabbed me and shouted, “You wretch, I’ll kill you!”
But she wasn’t always angry. Her moods could change like the skies. As soon as the clouds lifted from her face, she would be full of joy. More than once, she picked me up in her arms. She was not particularly large, but she was extremely strong. With just her shoulder, she could shove the cow in the barn. Most of the time she was engrossed in herself and did not talk to me. It seemed to me then that she was dreaming of someplace else.
During one of the long winter nights, she told me that she had family in the distant city of Kishinev, and that one day she planned to travel there to visit them. I wanted to ask her when, but I didn’t. I had already learned that it was best not to ask. Questions made her angry, and I’d already been given slaps for my questions. I tried to make myself scarce and to ask as little as possible.
In the winter she slept late or lounged in bed. I would serve her a mug of coffee and a slab of bread spread with butter, and she would eat it propped up against the pillows. Sheseemed younger. She
The woman was called Maria, and she wasn’t married. Almost every night a different man would come into the hut, and they would shut themselves away together behind a curtain. At first they would talk and drink vodka, and afterwardthere’d be loud laughter and, in the end, silence. This sequence would repeat itself night after night. “Don’t be frightened,” I would say to myself, and yet I was. Along with the fear, sometimes there was a strange pleasure.
The night did not always end quietly. Occasionally an argument broke out. Maria didn’t mince her words; when she did not like something or thought that someone might be cheating her, she shouted in an awful, blood-curdling voice that could make the walls of the hut shudder. And if this wasn’t enough, she might also throw a plate, a shoe, or any other object that she could lay her hands on. But there were also nights that ended quietly, in kisses. The man would declare his love and promise to bring many presents, and Maria, for her part, laughed and teased.
Maria’s hut was one long room that was curtained off at one end. I would sit on the huge stove and eavesdrop. Sometimes I could not restrain myself and would peek through the cracks of the planks above the stove. I would usually be too frightened to see anything, but once I glimpsed Maria and she was completely naked. A warm pleasure washed over me.
Sometimes she would tell me to go outside and pick wildflowers. After picking them, I would fill jugs with water and thrust the stalks into them. Once, during a moment of fury, she grabbed one of the jugs and threw it right at the head of the tall peasant who was growling at her from deep in his throat, like a bear.
Maria knew no fear. When something did not please her, or when a man did not behave properly, she would hurl a stream of curses at him. If the man failed to apologize, or if the apology seemed inadequate, she would fling some object at him or throw him out of the hut. “You witch!” I heard a man shout at her on more than one occasion.
She had three wooden tubs in her hut. In the smallestshe washed her feet: in the medium one she would wash her body after a client had left; and the third one, the largest, was the bathtub where she would pamper herself. She would soak herself in it for hours on end, singing, chattering away, reminiscing, or even confessing. More than once I observed her lounging in the large tub, submerged in the water, a long, lazy creature that even the large tub could not contain.
Suddenly it was winter, and the men no longer came as before. Maria would sit by the table shuffling cards. Playing with them amused her. Sometimes she would burst out laughing, but at other times her face would suddenly darken and she would let out a shriek. Once, during one of her black moments, when the sandwich that I’d served her was not to her liking, she grabbed me and shouted, “You wretch, I’ll kill you!”
But she wasn’t always angry. Her moods could change like the skies. As soon as the clouds lifted from her face, she would be full of joy. More than once, she picked me up in her arms. She was not particularly large, but she was extremely strong. With just her shoulder, she could shove the cow in the barn. Most of the time she was engrossed in herself and did not talk to me. It seemed to me then that she was dreaming of someplace else.
During one of the long winter nights, she told me that she had family in the distant city of Kishinev, and that one day she planned to travel there to visit them. I wanted to ask her when, but I didn’t. I had already learned that it was best not to ask. Questions made her angry, and I’d already been given slaps for my questions. I tried to make myself scarce and to ask as little as possible.
In the winter she slept late or lounged in bed. I would serve her a mug of coffee and a slab of bread spread with butter, and she would eat it propped up against the pillows. Sheseemed younger. She
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