I was her brother, and the source of her pain. I had to say—I had to do —something.
Hendrik was there, running past me, running down the stair. I followed. Hendrik was dressed in all his clothes, putting on his coat as frantically as possible. “Where are you going?” I asked him. He ignored me, instead reaching for his scarf, my scarf, the one I had sent him. To see it now broke my heart anew. “Where are you going?” I asked again. But he said nothing. “Hendrik!” I grabbed his arm.
“It’s over now,” he whispered to me.
I did not know what he was referring to. I was too afraid to ask. “Hendrik, please. Let us go together.”
His eyes, his beautiful green eyes, were wild and scared. He looked past me and up the stairs. I could still faintly hear the wrenching sobs coming from the room. “You should tend to your sister,” he said flatly before heading out the door.
I was torn. My world had come cascading down around me, and I did not know which pieces to pick up first. My heart was conflicted, to follow Hendrik or to comfort Alona, to try and explain. I did not know what to do. I did not know where we could go. There was nowhere, there was only Pilsden, tiny Pilsden. This was the only life I had ever known. There was no other, none I could conceive of, anyway. Not now. Not anymore.
I turned and went up the stair.
Alona would not answer my pleas. I could break in her door—it was easy, I had learned to do it long ago, chasing her down the hall as youngsters and pushing my way in, past the shallow lock that held it in place—but I was loath to do so now, to breach this wall between us without her permission. I begged her forgiveness, her understanding, but I had no words to make up for what she had seen. It occurred to me, and just now for the first time, that she had loved Hendrik too. Not as I had, but in her own way. And I had killed that love. Cursing myself, I sat heavily down on the floor of the hallway, slumped against her bedroom door, and allowed my own tears to begin to flow.
I was only there a few moments before I heard the front door open again. I collected myself as best I could as I heard heavy steps on the stair. It was Grandmamma. She could hear Alona, and saw my face, and, for a long moment, for the longest moment I have ever felt in my life, she said nothing. Finally, she spoke. “Leave,” she said, her voice a hissing, hateful whisper. “Leave now and never return.”
I threw some clothes and other effects into a small bag. I moved as quickly as possible, all the while working under Grandmamma’s baleful stare. Money. I would need some if Hendrik and I were to leave. But I had precious little of my own. I knew that Mamma kept some pin money in a small jar in the kitchen cupboard—not much, of course, but enough pay for passage out of town for both of us, with a little more beside. But how to get it with Grandmamma watching so closely? Do I just take it, and damn what Grandmamma would say? Or do I leave it and hope that Hendrik has enough to pay our way?
I felt wizened skin caress my own. Grandmamma. For a moment, the briefest of moments, I thought this a conciliatory gesture, a symbol of forgiveness or an act of compassion and understanding. But then I saw the hard glint in Grandmamma’s eyes and felt the cool metal cross my palm. Grandmamma was pressing coin into my hand, enough for passage out of Pilsden, and no more. My heart shattered; already in pieces in my chest, it broke yet again. I wanted to speak with her, to tell her how much I loved her. I wanted to hear her say it back. And I wanted to tell her I was sorry. But I knew that was not true. Oh, I was sorry that it had to be this way, that Alona had to be hurt as she was, that I had disgraced the family. But I knew also in my heart that this was how it did have to be, and I was not sorry for loving Hendrik. To have been so would have despoiled all the memories of him I held in my heart, and the meaning of what had
Hendrik was there, running past me, running down the stair. I followed. Hendrik was dressed in all his clothes, putting on his coat as frantically as possible. “Where are you going?” I asked him. He ignored me, instead reaching for his scarf, my scarf, the one I had sent him. To see it now broke my heart anew. “Where are you going?” I asked again. But he said nothing. “Hendrik!” I grabbed his arm.
“It’s over now,” he whispered to me.
I did not know what he was referring to. I was too afraid to ask. “Hendrik, please. Let us go together.”
His eyes, his beautiful green eyes, were wild and scared. He looked past me and up the stairs. I could still faintly hear the wrenching sobs coming from the room. “You should tend to your sister,” he said flatly before heading out the door.
I was torn. My world had come cascading down around me, and I did not know which pieces to pick up first. My heart was conflicted, to follow Hendrik or to comfort Alona, to try and explain. I did not know what to do. I did not know where we could go. There was nowhere, there was only Pilsden, tiny Pilsden. This was the only life I had ever known. There was no other, none I could conceive of, anyway. Not now. Not anymore.
I turned and went up the stair.
Alona would not answer my pleas. I could break in her door—it was easy, I had learned to do it long ago, chasing her down the hall as youngsters and pushing my way in, past the shallow lock that held it in place—but I was loath to do so now, to breach this wall between us without her permission. I begged her forgiveness, her understanding, but I had no words to make up for what she had seen. It occurred to me, and just now for the first time, that she had loved Hendrik too. Not as I had, but in her own way. And I had killed that love. Cursing myself, I sat heavily down on the floor of the hallway, slumped against her bedroom door, and allowed my own tears to begin to flow.
I was only there a few moments before I heard the front door open again. I collected myself as best I could as I heard heavy steps on the stair. It was Grandmamma. She could hear Alona, and saw my face, and, for a long moment, for the longest moment I have ever felt in my life, she said nothing. Finally, she spoke. “Leave,” she said, her voice a hissing, hateful whisper. “Leave now and never return.”
I threw some clothes and other effects into a small bag. I moved as quickly as possible, all the while working under Grandmamma’s baleful stare. Money. I would need some if Hendrik and I were to leave. But I had precious little of my own. I knew that Mamma kept some pin money in a small jar in the kitchen cupboard—not much, of course, but enough pay for passage out of town for both of us, with a little more beside. But how to get it with Grandmamma watching so closely? Do I just take it, and damn what Grandmamma would say? Or do I leave it and hope that Hendrik has enough to pay our way?
I felt wizened skin caress my own. Grandmamma. For a moment, the briefest of moments, I thought this a conciliatory gesture, a symbol of forgiveness or an act of compassion and understanding. But then I saw the hard glint in Grandmamma’s eyes and felt the cool metal cross my palm. Grandmamma was pressing coin into my hand, enough for passage out of Pilsden, and no more. My heart shattered; already in pieces in my chest, it broke yet again. I wanted to speak with her, to tell her how much I loved her. I wanted to hear her say it back. And I wanted to tell her I was sorry. But I knew that was not true. Oh, I was sorry that it had to be this way, that Alona had to be hurt as she was, that I had disgraced the family. But I knew also in my heart that this was how it did have to be, and I was not sorry for loving Hendrik. To have been so would have despoiled all the memories of him I held in my heart, and the meaning of what had
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