Lapvona

by Ottessa Moshfegh

‘She was a strong girl, but she carried death with her. Death is like that. Like a beggar that follows you down the road. And kills you.’

He lived for hardship. It gave him cause to prove himself superior to his mortal suffering.

She had indeed seen death and she was not afraid of it. What scared her were other people and their immovable selfishness.

When she asked the birds what to do, they answered that they didn’t know anything about love, that love was a distinctly human defect which God had created to counterbalance the power of human greed.

She liked to believe on some level that she was inhuman, that God had granted her life after death with one caveat: she might live forever. The slow hell.

‘Child of pain, don’t you know the man is bent on cruelty?

What good was a life of struggle with no guarantee of heaven?

Would it be unkind to wonder what would happen to Jacob’s shoes? Would they be buried along with him? If Marek could wear them to hell, his feet would be protected from the flames, at least.

The priest had no sympathy for such stupid people. And yet he didn’t see the hypocrisy of his disdain, as he was stupid, too.

To sing I must, of that I would rather not so bitter I am toward he who stole my love for I loved him more than anyone; my kindness and courtesy make no impression on him nor my beauty, my virtue or intelligence; so I am deceived and betrayed, as I should be if I were ugly . . . One thing consoles me: I never wronged him, And if love could bring him back It would, so much I have to give. I am glad that my love is greater than your vanity.

‘What about heaven, Ina? Don’t you want to go?’ ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I won’t know anyone.’

A mother’s sorrow was tiresome, but a whore’s heartache? It would be a good show.