Someday We'll Tell Each Other Everything Read Online Free PDF Page B

wisdom of a lifetime with his fellow monks: “Brothers, have no fear of men’s sin. Love a man even in hissin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth.”
    And then that incredible thing happens: Zossima’s body decomposes on the very day he dies!
    At teatime we all gather in the garden. There’s cake with fresh strawberries, coffee, and water. Marianne asks me how my visit to my mother went. But when I try to formulate a reply I burst out laughing, shocking everyone at the table. Siegfried gives me a serious glance, and holding back the tears I try to explain what Madame Khokhlakov said about Zossima: that she hadn’t expected such behavior. Such behavior! I’m practically falling about with laughter. As if Zossima decomposed of his own will, as if he’d told himself, “I know, I’ll play a trick on them. I’ll just decompose right now instead of taking a few days—or not at all, like some saints.” The parents exchange glances; Frieda acts as if nothing’s happening. Nobody else is laughing.
    Johannes grins as best he can with a mouth full of strawberry cake. In his lap is his camera, he hasn’t been able to put it down for days. The family was horrified when they heard how much he’d paid for it; he could have bought a car with that money. Frieda wanted him to go traveling; he ought to go to Greece, she said; it’s meant to be stunning, sheer paradise. Those were her words: sheer pa-ra-dise . There had been a travel program on the television about Santorini. Now that they can go wherever they like, he should have gone to Greece—he could even have flown there. Yes, that’s what the boy should have done with the money. But Johannes has other plans. Up in the attic there is a small room without any windows. And in this room Johannes has a secret. In a minute he’ll show me what it is.
    We wolf down our cake, quickly swallowing a second piece, and then go up. Such excitement. At first I can’t see anything; it’spitch-black in the room, unbearably hot, and it reeks of chemicals. Johannes leads me to a chair, then turns on the light.
    Along the wall in front of me is a worktop, and on it a large, mysterious contraption and several shallow plastic trays containing liquid, as well as bottles labeled “Developer” and “Fixer,” and some boxes of photographic paper. Above this hangs a washing line with pegged-up photographs, and I am in every one of them: asleep in bed in the morning, brushing my teeth naked, bent over The Brothers Karamazov , lying in the garden in the sun, leaning against the old shed by the dam—naked again, my hair in a braid. Johannes smiles and says, “Now I know what I want to do: I’m going to study art. We’re going to get away from here.” He gives me a piercing look. “Dad wants me to take over the farm. Now that we’re allowed to own the land again, he says, we might be able to make some money. But I need to get away.” I feel dizzy, I don’t know what to say, he looks so happy. But what about me? I’ve only just gotten here. He goes on and on, without saying very much: “Do you know what? I’d have done what Hartmut did, I’d have applied to leave, and just like Hartmut I wouldn’t have said a word to anyone. But now we can go wherever we like, we can do what we like.” He swings his right hand through the air emphatically. “You would have been barred from going to college, Maria,” he continues. “You didn’t go through the state initiation ceremony. But you’ve still got to finish school. We’ll wait until then; it’s too late for me to start this semester anyway. I’ll go on working for Dad for a while, and then we’ll be off.” His eyes are bulging with happiness about his future prospects. Then I think of Henner and feel the place where he touched my breast. It’s burning. Johannes kneels on the floor in front of me and puts his head in my lap. “Oh, Maria . . . ,” he says, “we’re going to have such a