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humanoid-whowouldveknown · 6 years ago

Text

Visų Šventųjų

All Saints

- ...and so, she is walking across the city in such panic that she can't even cry, because — I mean, come on, fifteen thousand dollars is not a small sum today, and in her times it was enormous. The money were there yesterday and suddenly disappeared. In her own house, in the daytime. So, it turns out, someone from the family took it. No one else entered the house. And she has no idea who could do such a horrible thing. And if she did know who, it would be even worse. Because if her husband took the money, everything is gone. You get her logic, right? Why would a normal, not addicted man secretly take his own money away from his house, if not to run away with some tanned beauty to, like, Argentina? Or at least Warsaw?

So, she is walking with these lovely thoughts, unaware of the destination or reason. Later, she said that she has walked around town for the whole day, simply to not go insane right off the bat, unprepared, and stretch the pleasure until the evening. When you have to move your legs and pay attention to the cars, it feels like you are doing something, and helps keep control… Whatever. She just walked. And suddenly, she heard that behind her back, some woman said, “...it’s lying in the fridge since yesterday.” And mom suddenly remembered that she hid the money in the fridge herself. On the day before, dad was on the night patrol, and mom’s sister, aunt Sonya, came over. As they gossiped, they finished a bottle of homemade wine. Or two. Then, aunt Sonya left, and mom got stricken with drunken paranoia. She couldn’t fall asleep, constantly thinking about the money. She was always nervous with money, thinking about where to hide them in case someone tries to rob the house. And now, after so much wine, it hit her. She wrapped the bag with a rag, put it into a pot, threw some sour cabbage on top, closed the pot, put it into the fridge, and finally calmed down — even if the robbers come, they probably won’t get into the fridge. Maybe for beer, but not for pots. So she fell asleep, utterly satisfied with her wit. In the morning, she went to check the closet for money — that’s her habit, she always does it. But the money, obviously, wasn’t there. And mom instantly started panicking, instead of sitting down and thinking. Only when someone on the street spoke of a fridge, she remembered, ran back home, and found the money in her pot. Thus, the happy ending. Parents later bought a house — the one on S. Konarskio where they live now; well, doesn’t matter.

Mom told that story to everyone, including our neighbor — grandma Daiva. She was one of those grandmas in hats with fake flowers, who look like they are seventy, but when you listen to them it’s more like five hundred; walking histories, probably once acquainted with the Grand Duke Gediminas. And Daiva started asking — where did mom hear about the fridge? At first, mom couldn’t remember, but then she recalled turning from Pilimo to the Church of All Saints and then turning somewhere else. At this point, grandma Daiva was nodding, “Of course, you were walking through Visų Šventųjų, where else could you get such good advice. Mom didn’t pay attention, but I did.

I was twelve! The best age to get interested in such things. I questioned Daiva — what is this street, and how do I get advice there? Daiva always liked to talk, so she opened up quickly. Apparently, there is something like a city legend — if you are searching for an answer, or want to know something important, or just long for advice, go to the street of All Saints. Walk through it a few times, focus on the question, and listen. At some point, you will hear your answer. Can you imagine my excitement?

Finally, a pause. Not because Yanka awaits my reply. She simply remembered about her long-cold tea. I reply anyway:

- I can. You began walking through Visų Šventųjų every day, didn’t you?

A laugh.

- No! Not every — only when I had some vital questions. Meaning — every other day. And guess what? I always got my answer. Competent, simple, and coherent, as if life is a textbook for grade five, and I found a Quizlet to all questions. I swear! For example, if I asked about a boy, I would always hear someone swearing: “Idiot!” Or vice-versa, someone exclaims: “Oh, my dear,” — and I understand everything about this boy. When I fell in love with a pretty upperclassman, I heard how some drunk guy screamed at his companion: “Who are you? I don’t even know you!” Absolutely correct — this dreamboat had no idea that such a precious girl like me exists. I saw him five times, all from far away. Once, I argued with my best friend. I don’t really remember the reason, but I was so worried, I cried at night. In the morning, I skipped school and went to the center, to Visų Šventųjų, for them to tell me how do I live now. I heard this hushed reply, close to me: “Don’t be mad.” As if someone came from behind and said this to me, I even felt a breath on my neck. I turned around, but there was no one on the street. Not a single soul. Damn, I got terrified! I made peace with my friend, of course. If they said “don’t be mad,” I really can’t be…

I didn’t enter All Saints in a while since then. But my “while” at thirteen was just a few months. In autumn, I went there again. I promised myself to only ask vital questions, but, still, my “vital” wasn’t exactly what you imagine. A new boy, problems in school, confusion with hobbies… In short, one day I heard how some male voice says — quite bitterly: “Get lost, I’m so tired of you!” That’s when I felt terrified. And offended. “Get lost,” you say? Whatever. As if I ever needed you! I would not come here if my life depended on it, I swear to all the gods!

Indeed, I didn’t go back for a few years. At first, I was scared-offended, then I simply forgot. I mean, not really forgot — just stopped valuing. When you’re fifteen, everything that happened two years ago seems like useless nonsense. And the older I got, the less I cared.

So, until about twenty years old, I survived without the answers. And then, I got in trouble. Actually, several troubles, one worse than the other… Why am I telling you? You know whom I was married to. Long story short, I can’t even remember why did I go to Visų Šventųjų — was I searching for an answer, or just walking past? I lived in a fog. My home was hell, and wherever I went I brought the hell with me like a snail brings its house… Whatever the matter, I turned to Visų Šventųjų and almost instantly heard: “She left for just three years, but when she returned, everything changed.” A simple phrase, right? But I was sure it was directed at me. Only at me. As you can understand, I thought about leaving wherever. It was easy to find me in Vilnius, but the world is big. But I never got myself to actually quit. I couldn’t imagine where to go, what to do, and how to sponsor it all. I thought I’ll never succeed there, and it’s safer here — with a roof above my head, mom and dad near me. They couldn’t help me, of course, but they were good at pitying. And suddenly — as if someone poured cold water on my head, I woke up. I thought — what are my risks? I didn’t even go home since my documents were always with me. I went to mom and said that I’m leaving. She got so excited, she collected all the money in the house. She only gave it to me when I got on the bus at the train station. And I’m glad she did. That’s precisely how one should act with the wives of drug addicts.

In the morning, I was in Warsaw. From there, I left for Germany hitchhiking. And somehow, everything turned out fine — I found a job and a house. Thank god I spoke German well and knew how to talk to people. My hell got lost somewhere on the way to Munich. I guess, in the bathroom of one of the gas stations.

In four months, I returned my debt to mom, and then everything got only better. Literally, my life got better every day, it was incredible. Of course, I remembered the “She left for just three years,” but I never planned to return. Don’t push your luck. Everything changed when dad got sick. Exactly three years after I left. Nothing dangerous, as we found out later, but I got so scared I left immediately. Turned out, the lord of my hell disappeared a long time ago. Either he moved to India, as he always dreamt, or the “glowing astral essences” kidnapped him — I have no idea because nobody saw him ever since. And I think that’s much better than if he just died like people predicted — I’m all in for an open ending.

I got so excited from his fantastic vanishing that I automatically recovered my status in the university — I had just about a year to finish my major. Suddenly, my acquainted Germans started giving me attractive business deals, and my career snowballed — it’s still growing, as you know…

Now, you will make us more tea, and I will structure my thoughts. Because I have no idea how to continue coherently. I only know — I’ll explode if I don’t tell you the whole story.

While I am away, Yanka manages to change her soft armchair to a wooden chair, button up the blazer, and even redo her lipstick.

- I need this to concentrate, — she replies to my silent question. — When my back is straight, I think better. If my clothes are buttoned up, my speech becomes more clear. Trust me, I checked. All of this is extremely important, you’ll see why.

I nod — alright, why not. I pour the tea into her cup and wait.

- Alright, — Yanka finally says. — Now, let’s look at how things were going for me. On one hand, I remembered the reason I left very clearly. I was perfectly aware that this was the best decision I ever made. I also never pretended like I made the choice myself. My gratitude for the voice on Visų Šventųjų was and is infinite. On the other hand, I didn’t go there anymore. There were no questions left in my life, to which I couldn’t find the answers myself. So, I tried to not bother them for no reason. I have no idea who “them” is. That does not matter. Of course, I did drive through there, but that doesn’t count.

But once, like a year ago, I went there. Completely consciously. I wanted to say, “thank you.” I mean, think, “thank you.” I decided that if you don’t need to ask questions out loud, you can keep the “thank you” to your thoughts as well. They will hear. Again, no matter who “they” are. So, I’m walking through Visų Šventųjų, thinking my “thanks-thanks-thanks,” and scanning my surroundings. It’s cloudy, but very light, the way only spring can look; the trees are about to bloom, which gives unusual green swell to the air; soon, it will be hot, the cherries, bird-cherries, lilacs will bloom; the summer is coming, and it will be great… And then I realize that I said that out loud. Not everything, just one phrase: “It will be great.” I shut up, blushed, and looked around — do people recognize this crazy woman? But there were no people around, just one girl in front of me, and who knows which one of us was man because she jumped and ran laughing. I stopped. Because — you understand what I’ve been thinking then.

- That the girl walked through All Saints for a reason?

- Precisely! I remembered that she walked slowly at first, dragging her legs. She was far ahead of me, and I caught up in just a minute, though not in a hurry. And suddenly — such energy. She reminded me of myself in my school years, when I went to Visų Šventųjų to ask about boys and exams. I laughed, screamed, jumped — all the same. Who did I have to feel shy before? Random voices, who know what I’m thinking anyway?

So, I spent quite some time thinking about that event. And in the end, I decided — that was great. Who cares, whether I said this or someone else did? If this girl actually had some vital question to the universe, she got the best answer possible.

Yanka smiles and sighs. Hell knows how she manages to do both at the same time.

- Next time I went to Visų Šventųjų about a month later, by accident. I mean, not because I had some grand goal, but simply because it was the shortest path from the Russian bookshop I bought my magazines in to a tea club on Bazilijonų where my colleagues awaited me; you know, we go there on Fridays after work instead of drinking beer at the nearest pub, like normal people do. Long story short, I was late and got very worried that they will order tea without me (gods, they have no idea what they are doing, they will choose something awful!), so I sprinted through the nearest route. As expected, at the most inconvenient moment, my mom called me to discuss whether she should go to her friend for the weekend or is it still too cold, and I screamed (it was loud on the street because of cars) into the phone: “Of course you should go, it’s a great idea!” I put the phone into my pocket and almost bumped into a woman that walked in front of me and suddenly stopped as if stricken. Somehow, at the last moment, I managed to walk around her and heard as she whispered, almost silently, my own words: “Go, it’s a great idea.” I almost laughed — again! I spent the evening thinking about it. And the next morning too. And you know, I couldn’t think of anything valuable, but I felt happy. Simply happy that my voice helped someone. And I got so excited that next day I went to the center, parked at Visų Šventųjų, and began walking around. It’s not like I planned to scream: “It’ll be okay” and look at the effect. On the contrary, I promised myself to not say anything. And not ask anything. I just wanted to walk there. Simply be there. That’s all.

Yanka smiles again, reaches for the cigarettes, grabs one, looks at it as if she suddenly forgot what do people usually do with it. Continues.

- And, you know, nothing outstanding happened that evening. I was quiet and never asked anything, not even in my mind. And there were no voices or prophecies. Only music played somewhere. Trumpet or something like that, I don’t know much about instruments. Apparently, it was a real-life performance, not a recording. Nothing surreal, of course. Someone was probably rehearsing next to an open window since it was warm and spring. But, you know, if I did ask my question, this would be an obvious answer. Thus, we may conclude that I asked without noticing. Doesn’t matter. When I got back into the car, I knew what will happen. I mean, I knew how to act and what to do. And how to react to it all. The correct answer is — intuitively. We’ll see how it goes. A universal formula. So now, I just... live. I don’t go to Visų Šventųjų every day if that’s what you’re thinking. But I don’t avoid it either. If I want to take a shortcut, I go through it. Why not? If someone calls me while I’m there, I will reply: “Look in the cabinet,” “Don’t forget about our morning conversation,” “Go there now,” “Don’t rush this,” — never thinking about the consequences. And if I realize that I said something without noticing, I don’t care about it. I’m not an oracle or a prophet. I’m not responsible for the happiness of the superstitious part of the Lithuanian population. I’m just a person who sometimes walks through the All Saints street and says something. Maybe someone will hear it. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter, because there are so many of us — those who speak, and those who hear, and those who don’t listen. It’s the matter of a musician, not the instrument. A good musician will pick any available tool and play it. I’m a very happy instrument — not because I sound better, but because I know for sure — the musician exists. I have no idea who they are, what they are playing, and why did they choose Visų Šventųjų for their concert. I have no clue what the whole melody sounds like. But, while they are playing, why shouldn’t I participate.

#max frei #translator #translation #the tales of old Vilnius #I don't own the text #ksandraal

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