Аннотация: Вечер перед окончательным превращением Урсулы.
I had just come back from school. I wore the same clothes in which I had come to Tiziana when I had just left home and had nowhere else to go, - the long, dark green bib-and-brace denim dress, the white turtleneck sweater beneath, the checked woolen shirt on top, emerald green and grass green and white, and the small leather pouch swung across my shoulder so that it hung on my hip. It was the style I liked best, - casual and conservative, and so much my thing that neither I nor most of my friends could imagine me any other way. I did not know why I had put on these very things, though, but the fact that I did somehow stirred a feeling in me which I could not quite place.
We had this tiny cactus growing in a simple earthen pot on the window-sill, a thing so weird it filled me with wonder. It was shaped like a sphere and had no spikes. Instead, it was covered in thick, waxy scales with a tender matte gloss to them; all of them were a dark emerald green, fading gently into very deep violet towards the edges. I often thought it was like some exotic, juicy green fruit, growing right out of the earth, - one from Mars, or maybe an even more remote and stranger world.
In the fall, I noticed that it had begun to flower. A long tendril sprouted from it, thrice as long as the body of the cactus was broad, and quite thin and fragile, yet managing to stay in a horizontal position. It was also waxy, almost transparent, and the scales that made it up were a gentle lilac shade, which became the same dark, rich violet at their edges. On the end of this hand-like tendril, there was a round glossy bud, dark violet and dark green, - nearly black, - and I wondered what the blossom would look like when it opened.
That day, I came to the window and stood there, bathing in the sunlight which was spilling into the room and making the white on my shirt shine. I was tranquil, though there was some secret thrill too, some inner tingling, and the things around me were not the same because of it. When my eyes fell on the cactus, I noticed that the "hand" had for some reason fallen off, and took it into my hands, feeling a strange soft sadness.
The door opened behind me, and Tiziana came in. I turned to her, holding out the "hand" with the blossom which had only just begun to open, carefully, as if it was a living baby.
"Look," I said, "it must"ve fallen off. It was too weak and couldn"t support its weight, or maybe the cats were fighting here and broke it. What a shame."
I took time to say what I wanted. The depression had made it difficult to talk, and I guess this had taught me the value of words; when I did speak, I did my best to make sure each of them was laden with meaning, and warmth, and none were thrown away in vain. This time, too, I was trying to do so, and trying hard to convey that which was beginning inside me, while not at all being certain that I could.
"I wonder what would it have looked like inside, if it had opened?"
I smiled and began to gently bend away the dark scales that were protecting the bud, revealing some creamy white, waxy, tender petals pressed tightly together, and then bending away some of these petals as well. In the very middle, there was a lot of golden pollen, like golden coins glistening in the semi-darkness of the dome where they were hidden, - ripe and ready to be carried out and onto the stamen where it would bear fruit. It contrasted with the creamy petals, making them look a little yellowish on the inside.
"Ah look, it is white," I said. I felt thoughtful, and there was a quiet wonder that made something in me tremble. Tears were coming to my eyes. "So white.....so beautiful. It"s such a pity it"ll never open and blossom now."
Tiziana took it into her hands, opened the flower a little more herself, and had a look. Then she turned back to me. There was a hint of a silent question in her eyes, but they were deep and calm, - comprehending everything, or at least, trying to comprehend; and for a very brief while, I knew that she too had caught that elusive, but striking feeling that was flooding me, and a moment of wordless, complete understanding passed between us.
I felt nearly ecstatic, yet serene. There was a sudden sense of a deep, deep meaning in everything, of the significance of what I was seeing, there and then - the sunlight, the cactus blossom that never had a chance to open, and my friend standing with me in the room we shared. All of it was infinitely valuable because it was unique, I realized, and it could only happen once. It was a sort of final and sharp understanding that this moment is special, as it is the one and only in our lives; in a little while, it"d be gone and would never come back. That was why I felt very sorry for the flower, too - it had also been the one and only, and there would be no other like it ever again. Now this unique blossom would never open, and would be simply thrown away.
At some point, which must have been short but felt like an eternity, the strength of the feeling became barely endurable; one moment more, it seemed, and I wouldn't be able to bear anymore the sheer intensity of it, and the way it had claimed the whole of me.
But then it subsided, and only the memory of it stayed with me, almost as precious as the feeling itself.
Tiziana sensed something; something changed in her eyes, so that they filled with a silent, thoughtful light, and she threw my arms around me. We embraced.
It was I who felt first that I should draw away, and when I did, the two of us remained at the window. There was something in me, it seemed, some secret which had to be cherished, and with which I had to be extremely cautious, because the slightest movement could destroy it, spill it out like water from a brimming cup. I examined it in silence as I looked out the window at the sunlit street.
At least, I felt I should speak, and I did, - slowly, weighing and thinking out every word, and trying to make it as soaked with the warmth I felt as possible. From time to time I would stop, and trail away into silence. It was more meaningful than the words themselves, tranquil and not in the slightest oppressive, and I knew I had to go on speaking not to break it, but only to express myself.
"There are those times when I"m simply glad to be who I am. To be here, to breathe. To see all this beauty. There"s so much of it in ordinary, small things, - has this occurred to you too? I"ll be washing the dishes, and the steel pans shine so wonderful. Or when a storm cloud comes after a scorching day, and it gets dark, and those large cool drops of rain start falling. Or that scent of cypresses in the street... It"s God"s gift to me. Even when I wake in the morning, and the first thing I see is the sun, - that"s such a splendid gift, too. What to say of everything else? I could"ve been dead by now, and wouldn"t be seeing any of it. I"m thankful He didn"t let me end everything when I wanted to."
I made a long pause.
"I"m thankful for the trouble, too. It teaches things. When I"m through it, I feel I become stronger. Like - ever seen those blades of grass, cracking up stone and going right through? There..."
Exhausted by the effort of talking that much, I lapsed back into silence, and Tiziana embraced me again and held me tight. Both of us felt that there was no need whatsoever to talk any more, no more so for Tiziana than there was for me.
I had no work to do, so a little later I went to sleep, choosing to lie down dressed and only covering myself with the quilt. As I closed my eyes, I knew everything would be well, and with God"s help I would overcome whatever that came my way.
. . .
I drew back the heavy curtains and looked out. The city was basking in the last light of the evening, whose deep gold gave everything an enigmatic, new look. Yes, the sun shines no matter what; even now, it shines still. Soon, Tiziana would come to bring me to the villa, and there I would meet Francesco, and I knew he had everything ready, so -
Tension gathered in me, whether from worrying or from the thrill of thinking about what may happen, who knew. No, better not to think of it. Be what may, and may God see me through it.
I remembered what Tiziana told me, much later, when both of us had grown older. "You have a core of steel, but you are bursting with light. And you"re a mystery; has anyone told you this? Sometimes it seems I understand you better than most, and yet, when one comes to think of it, I"ve never understood you at all. We"ve been friends for so many years, and I still don"t know you."
I did not know how much truth there was in it. I never thought I was strong; and I didn"t see much light in myself, except of course my being cheerful and lively. But I hoped that God did give me strength, this time. I needed as much of it as there could be.