I stood on top of the hill, my backpack swung over one shoulder. I was wet to the skin, but I did not mind; I had taken off my boots, so that I could walk barefoot through the tall, moisture-laden grass. I had to spend several nights in the countryside, as the apartment I was staying at had become not safe enough, - and then, I did not care much about it, either. Not that my safety was the thing that really mattered. There was something else I had to take care of, which was much worse and more important, and I had no idea what to do about it. As I watched the sharp contours of the leaves trembling in the hazy grayness, and felt the strong humid wind blow into my face, I thought only in the same simple words, which I turned this way and that in my mind, and still could not entirely get over:
What do I do now?..
The clouds lay in a thick, soft blanket above the hills, and were so soaked with moisture that, it seemed, all you had to do was reach out with your hand and squeeze them - and the water would come out in a shower. A thick grayness was enveloping everything; even the air itself was gray, and dull, and it merged with the gray clouds to form one murky gloom in which it was difficult to understand what is what. The green of the grass and leaves stood out against it, unbearably bright, like something one would see in a dream.
The damp, hot wind came in sudden gusts, making the trees whisper in a troubled, mysterious way; sometimes they would fall silent, only to begin talking again in a myriad of quiet voices, trying to tell me of something great that I could not fully understand. Large, warm drops of rain fell from time to time, tapping on the leaves, and a cricket would chirp loudly here and there.
I looked around me with a feeling I thought had long left me. Everything was miraculously transformed, as if, for a brief moment, it had become part of the place where everything is absolutely perfect, and just as it ought to be; where every tiny thing is soaked with joy, and bears a deeper mystery than any single one ever thought of by man. The place of ideal, utter happiness, - so ideal that it could never be imagined by anyone, or even dreamed of, and which is so far away that one can only catch a fleeting glimpse of it during moments like this. Then it is gone, and one is left only with the memory which one cannot exactly place. Now I was seeing the same joyous mystery unfolding before me, awe-struck and holding my breath in reverence before it; and I knew I would never be part of it again.
It was as though I had never before seen a tree with green leaves, filled with the juices of life; never before witnessed the simple miracle of them moving in the wind, shining with the moisture. The world had been born again for me. Only it was born into sorrow. Sometimes it would begin to seem that it would be better if I were not there to see it, - the sorrow was too overwhelming, and it separated me from that blossoming new world, like a glass shield. But I knew I had to go on. For Ursula, if for nothing else.
I wished she was here, with me. It was now that I had begun to feel especially strongly that the two of us were now one; joined most of all by the common trouble which I had gotten her into, and which she willingly decided to take onto herself, not only by the commonality or the sharing of whatever that made us what we were. I missed her warmth, which she would draw from deep within herself and give to others, and still there would be only more and more of it; missed her simply because she was who she was. When she was not at my side, it was as though something was gone from inside me, too. Most of the time, I found myself thinking about her; wondering how was she, - where was she at that moment, what was she doing, how did she feel. It often seemed that those moments when I would contact her in my thoughts, and see her, were the only thing that really kept me alive.
The very deed I had done to her, in itself, meant that I had to stay with her and support her until time stands still. It made for an obligation on my part which was just as grave as those brought on by marriage vows, though different from these; all the more so that I had thrust her into it by force, and I had to do all I could for her to atone, as much as this was altogether possible, for what I had done.
Except that I was not a suitable man for her to be with.
That I had my burden was one thing. I could not tell how I would manage to bear it; but ultimately, this was only my trouble. In any case, I deserved to die many times over for what I had done once. I often thought that, were someone to take me and strike me through the heart, so that I died beyond death again and again, and wait until I revived to repeat the same, it would only be just. So that whatever happened to me, could not be wrong.
But I was no longer on my own. Ursula was also with me in it, and this meant that she shared everything that came with being mine, including my blame. That, in itself, was unthinkable. She had done no wrong, and it made me shudder that she thought herself to a certain degree accountable for the crimes committed by somebody else, like me. And if there was someone who deserved least of all to share the life I was leading, - the hiding in dusty burrows, for lack of any better words for the places where I would stay, and the travelling along dark ways where we would not easily be noticed, - it had to be her. She was made to live openly in everyone"s sight, with someone who would be honorable enough to be her husband. But, since she came to me, she chose to live my life, and to shoulder whatever troubles I had with me. And I could no more let her stay than leave her.
I went slowly down, and towards the foot of another hill, stopping under a large maple tree and resting my hand on a huge, low-lying branch. I closed my eyes, letting the wet, cool leaves touch my face, and feeling the water trickle over my cheeks, and down my back as it got beneath the collar of my shirt. Then I opened them again, and gazed for a long, long time at the wavering, glowing greenness right before me, which breathed with the joy I had no part in, nor would have in the nights ahead.
I ducked beneath the branches, and walkлd through the lush, throbbing green of the grass, amidst the mighty cork old oaks that grew on the slope. Further upwards, the grass was replaced by lilies of the valley. Clusters of little white bells were hanging on thin, elegant stems, hidden between dark emerald leaves, and it almost seemed that when the wind brushed them, they gave off a silent silvery ringing, - or maybe that was just their scent. It was cool, watery, with a tinge of some slightly sourish, green bitterness, and it made one"s head spin with its sheer intensity, but at the same time, it sobered one up. Much like a bucket of ice-cold water toppled over one. It made one start up at first, when one felt it, and then calm down and stand back from things a step or two, and just watch them with wondering, thoughtful eyes.
I sat down, facing the direction from which I had come, and opened my backpack. I had taken more than enough food for several nights outdoors, - a ciabatta loaf, a canful of olives, a small round head of dry salty cheese, and some onion bulbs and garlic cloves, - but now I was not hungry. I only had a sudden, odd craving for onions. I took one bulb out, peeled off the dry brown layers that rustled in my hands, and bit into the crunchy, juicy bitter flesh.
For some reason, I remembered that, strangely, - or not so strangely, - Ursula also ate onions like others would eat apples. The very thought of her brought another wave of sadness; tears began to cloud my eyes, but maybe that was just the acrid juice.
Then I sat for a long time without really thinking, only watching the shadows move on the grass, hearing the worried whispers of the trees, and breathing in the scent of the flowers, mingled with the smells of moisture and damp earth. The sorrow was wordless and had no limits to it, and there was no way I could convey it to someone else or clothe it in words to make it more tolerable. A couple of yards away, on the maple branches, shining globes hung on the edges of one large green star, and would tear off one by one to fall to the ground like someone"s sparkling tears; and I gazed at them with one broken, unfinished thought that trailed off into silence: like that....