Too tired to continue, having walked for hours, Nina fell asleep against the wall of a bombed house, a shell of a house to be precise. All the people she had come across during the day seemed to have disappeared.
When she opened her eyes, the children were already awake, waiting for her permission to wander off and stretch their legs. All Nina could see was the same barren landscape, spotted with ruins where the houses had once stood and gaping holes where trees once grew. So, climbing the mountain had made no difference. She got up, told the children to wait for her there, and ventured off to look for food and water.
On the other side of the wall where they had spent the night, Dino and Ada saw mounds of books scattered on the ground. A woman was sitting in their midst beside a construction that resembled a fireplace. It was obvious that this had been someone’s library once. Only now, there were no shelves and there was a big hole in the roof. The woman did not even notice the children. She was busy reading, but there seemed to be urgency to it; she didn’t want to be interrupted. She just said, “I have to read all these books before they disappear.”
“How can books disappear?” asked Dino.
She ignored his question and continued reading.
“How can books disappear?” he insisted.
She was still immersed in her book and didn’t react to his question.
Children never let go of questions that weigh on their minds.
Before his sister, who had reached the age of shyness, could stop him, he tugged at the woman’s sleeve and repeated the question again.
The woman looked up for a moment, noticing the children for the first time.
“Now that it is day again, I have to read all these books before they disappear,” she said, glancing left and right as if to make sure nobody was coming to stop her.
“How can books disappear?”
“I am sorry, young man, I have no time to engage in conversation with you right now. Please come back when night falls. I cannot read in the dark. Every moment of light is precious.”
“All right then,” said Dino. “We’ll come back later.”
It was almost dark, and Nina was not back with food yet. Ada looked for a corner where they could make a bed and wandered into what had obviously once been a children’s bedroom. Pieces of clothes and broken toys were scattered around. The floors, the windows and the furniture were gone. She started clearing a corner of the room and Dino joined in right away. She never had to ask him to do anything.
By the time their makeshift beds were ready, the night had descended and they returned to the room where the woman was sitting. She was still straining her eyes and trying to discern the words on the pages, but suddenly she noticed the children and closed the book. She didn’t seem to remember them.
“What are cute little children like yourselves doing here all alone? Come closer, I cannot see you in this dark.”
The children stepped forward.
“Our mom went to find food and told us to wait here. We are looking for the way to the sea,” said Ada. “And what are you doing? Where is your family?”
“I have to read all these books before they disappear. My family has already disappeared. All I have left are these books. And they will disappear soon.”
“How can books disappear?” Dino wouldn’t let go until he got his answer.
“They disappear in flames,” said the woman.
“Why do books disappear in flames?”
“Because the war is on and people burn books,” she explained.
“Our mom told us that only bad people burn books,” Dino said.
“I wouldn’t want to argue with your mom, but she must be young and she probably has not experienced any wars. I am old enough to know that there are situations when good people have to burn books.”
“Why would they do that?” Ada jumped in disbelief.
“Well, sometimes there is nothing else to burn to get warm or to make food.”
The very mention of food seemed to stir the children’s bellies and their hunger suddenly got very loud.
“Oh, I am so sorry. You must be hungry. Look, here is the pile of books I’ve already read, so we can light a fire and prepare something to eat quickly.”
“But you must be bad if you are burning books,” Dino insisted. “Our mom said that only bad people burn books.”
“As I said to you before, your mother was right, young man. I agree with her entirely and I feel a little bad that I will now burn these books. But I will also feel good because we’ll eat. Circumstances can determine what’s good and what’s bad.”
“If you are bad, we shouldn’t be talking to you. Our mom told us not to talk to bad people.”
“Your mother was right again. She seems like quite a smart woman. But she probably didn’t expect that you’d be hungry, so hungry that you’d have to take food from a bad person. And besides, like I said, I am not entirely bad. There are people who can be good and bad at the same time. There are people who can tame their bad side and might never even show it to anyone.”
“Did you tame your bad side?”
“I did tame it, you are quite right. I’ve read books and talked to people and was living the life of a good person.”
“But now you are bad again?” The boy was unrelenting.
Ada, who knew quite well how important it was that they finally eat something, interrupted her brother.
“If she burned the books to make food and didn’t share it with us, she would be bad. But because she is going to feed us, she cannot be bad.”
Dino fell silent. He trusted his sister, and the hunger made him understand that she did not want him to continue with his questioning.
The woman pulled out a bag of rice and a canister of water. The children helped her tear up the books for the fire.
At this point, if I were the reader, I would probably ask myself what kind of mother Nina was, leaving her children alone while foraging for food. I don’t want to be the judge here, but I am glad this woman was around to keep them company. She strikes me as someone I should be writing about. My love of language makes me want to stay by her side and watch her feed refugees with words and memories.
Nina returned just as they were lighting the fire. She hugged her children and greeted the woman as if she were a relative with whom they were about to have a Sunday dinner.
“I see you’ve already met my children. I am Nina.”
“My name is Fer. I have the important task of reading all these books.”
“Ah, you must be collecting the words of our mother tongue. You are like a camel preparing for a desert crossing.”
“It is partly true. I am hoarding the words of our mother tongue like a camel, but I am not going anywhere. I am saving them for you and your children.”
“For us? But we won’t need them when we get to the sea.”
“You think you won’t. Many people will look for me, all the refugees who have been crossing the mountain since the war started. Mothers will want to remember lullabies to sing to their children. Writers will need to remember the poems they read to learn their craft.”
“I won’t need words. I will speak to people through food.”
“Perhaps. But you will want to share some words with your children. How else can you tell them that you love them? You will also need me when you wake up in the middle of the night, all sweaty, trying to remember a word.”
In the dark, among the debris of the city she loved and among the ruins of the lives of people she loved, Fer’s voice, soft and melodious, sounded to Nina like an old folk song she had to remember.
“Besides, I am also archiving memories. Some people will lose their memories, sometimes on purpose. The memories of their language, of their childhoods, of their dreams. That’s when I’ll be able to help them. Once I have read all these books, I’ll sort them, archive them. If you want to remember a beautiful day in the country, I’ll be here to describe it for you. At a certain point you won’t know if they are your own memories.
“What are memories anyway but our own fabrication of events, the way we felt them and not the way we witnessed them? You won’t even care if they are your memories or not. You’ll get so enveloped in them that they will become yours. It will be a memory puzzle for anyone to access and, with a little effort, make complete and adopt.”
Nina thought that only forgetting everything would bring her happiness. But she liked Fer and decided not to say anything.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Nina’s pockets were full of nettle leaves. Her palms were itchy and painful. She offered to share her treasures and cook dinner.
“Nettles!” The Woman was overjoyed. “We’ll just add them to the rice and you will have a divine meal. Let me tell you a little story by a wonderful writer I have just read.”