Laurus

by Eugene Vodolazkin

Why are there no names on the graves? Arseny once asked. Because they are already known to the Lord, responded Christofer. And their descendants have no need of the names. In one hundred years nobody will remember who they belonged to. Sometimes that even happens after fifty. Or maybe even after thirty. Do people remember like that in the whole world or only in Rukina Quarter? The whole world, I suppose. But especially in Rukina Quarter. We do not build marble crypts and we do not carve out names, for our cemeteries are granted the right to turn into forests and fields. Which is gratifying. Does that mean our people have a short memory? One might say that. It is just that memory should not be too long. That, you know, is not for the best. After all, some things should be forgotten.

Why did he go off to die? Why did he not die with us, the ones who loved him? Christofer wiped Arseny’s tears with his scratchy touch. He kissed his forehead. It was his way of warning us that everyone remains alone with God at the final moment.

Nothing indicated who was inside and preparing to break those lines. As he glided his lips along her belly, Arseny grasped that only Ustina’s pregnancy could express his immeasurable love, that it was he growing throughout Ustina. He felt happiness that he now existed, constantly, within Ustina. He was an integral part of her.

Arseny’s soul, wanting to touch Ustina’s soul. But a gesture of warning from Death stopped Arseny’s soul. Death already held Ustina’s soul by the hand and intended to lead her away. Leave her here, wept Arseny’s soul, she and I have become entwined. Get used to separation, said Death, it is painful, even if it is only temporary. Will we recognize each other in eternity? asked Arseny’s soul. That depends in large part on you, said Death: souls often harden during the course of life, and then they barely recognize anyone after death. If your love, O Arseny, is not false and does not fade with the passage of time, one might ask, why would you not recognize each other there, where there be not illness, nor sorrow, nor groaning, but where there shall be everlasting life?

First I will speak about death, said the elder, and then, if things work out, about life. He sat on the bench and indicated the place next to him. After Arseny had sat down, the elder pressed his hands against the bench and lowered his head. He spoke without looking at Arseny. I know you are dreaming about death. You are thinking death now possesses everything you held dear. But you are wrong. Death does not possess Ustina. Death is only carrying her to Him Who will administer justice over her. And thus, even if you decide now to give yourself to Death, you will not be united with Ustina. Now, about life. You think life has nothing of consequence left for you and you see no purpose in it. But it is precisely at this time in your life that the greatest purpose has revealed itself.

The whole point is that the soul is helpless after leaving the body. It can only act in a bodily way. We are only saved, after all, in earthly life. Arseny’s eyes were dry, as before: But I took away her earthly life. The elder looked calmly at Arseny: So then give her your own. But is it really possible for me to live instead of her? If approached from the proper perspective, yes. Love made you and Ustina a united whole, which means a part of Ustina is still here. It is you.

For joint pain, he rubbed the black oil petroleum on bothersome places. Patients felt better from Arseny’s touch. When all was said and done, it did not matter to them what oil Arseny rubbed in. It was important to them that it was Arseny himself who did it because when they rubbed on the petroleum themselves, the curative effect seemed considerably weaker. They did not, however, deny the positive effect of the petroleum. Arseny was content after trying out remedies previously unavailable to him. It cannot be said he completely lost faith in them, if only because he had faith in Christofer. Arseny, though, took into consideration the fact that even Christofer formed opinions of many medicines without personal experience. This enabled him to subject them to testing and reach his own opinions. Over all, Arseny felt ever more strongly about his long-time supposition that, when all is said and done, medicines are of secondary significance. The primary role belongs to the physician and his doctoring power.

The coldness seemed to intensify when the moon appeared. Arseny thought the moon itself was pouring out the silvery cold that was spreading across the land. He took pity on his chilly body for a while but the pity left him when he suddenly remembered his body was defiled by another’s clothes and lice. This was no longer his body. It belonged to the lice, the person who previously wore his clothes, and, finally, the cold. But not to him. As if I were dwelling in the body of another, thought Arseny. However much sympathy one might have for another’s body, its pain cannot be perceived as one’s own. Arseny knew that, having helped infirm bodies. Though he had lived in the pain of others in order to ease it, he could never fathom all its depth. And now the matter at hand concerned a body he did not even sympathize with very much. A body that, for the most part, he despised. Arseny was no longer cold, for someone dwelling in another’s body cannot be cold. Quite the contrary, he markedly felt how his (not his) body had filled with strength and was confidently moving along toward dawn.

When he talked about his homeland, Ambrogio was crushed that he could not convey the undulating blueness of the mountains, the damp saltiness of the air, and many other things that made Italy the most wonderful place on earth. But were you not sorry to leave a land like that? Mayor Gavriil once asked him. Of course I was sorry, answered Ambrogio, but the beauty of my land did not allow me to concentrate on what is most important. Ambrogio devoted all his time to reading Russian books, attempting to find in them an answer to the question that was troubling him.