{"id":7331,"date":"2022-11-10T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-11-10T08:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/?p=7331"},"modified":"2024-10-18T12:11:04","modified_gmt":"2024-10-18T12:11:04","slug":"jesus-carving-1-6","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/2022\/11\/10\/jesus-carving-1-6\/","title":{"rendered":"Jesus’ Carving (1\/6)"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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Photo: A. Elmi<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Jesus' Carving (1\/6)<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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By: A. Elmi
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10th of November 2022<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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It was one of those rare afternoons when Maryan spoke. And maybe it\u2019s because she was unused to speaking that she used her hands so much. She followed her hands with an intent gaze as they pulled things only she could see from invisible pockets in the air.<\/p>

Whatever she\u2019d pulled out appeared to be dangling from her hands, for she peered at the air right beneath her hands as if there was something there, and her face crumpled into that puzzled glower people sometimes have when they\u2019re listening to a complicated argument. I don\u2019t think the air spoke to her \u2013 I can\u2019t say what was happening \u2013 but I would like to think she was making sense of her thoughts. For most people, a thought travels from the brain to the mouth, but her thoughts must\u2019ve taken a detour, leaving her head through the ears and waiting outside in those invisible pockets until she reached for them. Whatever the case, I always imagined that speaking to Maryan wasn\u2019t all that different to speaking to someone who constantly pauses to register strings of information through an earpiece. It involved a lot of waiting and patience while she sought communication with a source very far away. And when her face cleared at last and her eyes rose to mine, I had never felt more ready to hear a human being speak.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018I don\u2019t know if I should say yes,\u2019 Maryan said in that soft, almost-whisper of hers.<\/p>

I was sure I looked every bit as confused as she did when I asked, \u2018Say yes<\/i> to what?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018He proposed,\u2019 she said, turning her left hand around and wiggling the ring finger at me.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I stepped closer to look at the ring. It was so unlike what you\u2019d expect that I would never have noticed it had she not called attention to it. Engagement rings typically spoke in flashes of light. They were tiny messengers announcing to anyone within range what they were doing on the person\u2019s finger. But this one was silent, secretive almost, as if it did not want to be seen, and it even camouflaged itself against her skin. I traced a finger over it. It was carved from dark wood, the surface sanded smooth and coated with some oil that gave off the barest lustre. A shade darker than her skin, it looked more like a raised scar than a ring.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018You\u2019re wearing it,\u2019 I stated, stepping back and watching her with a face carefully devoid of expression. \u2018Seems to me you\u2019ve made your choice.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She drew the ring off and held it up. \u2018He made it himself. It\u2019s pretty, isn\u2019t it?\u2019 she said, gazing at the thing lovingly. She pushed it back on her finger, then plucked more thoughts from the air between us. After a while, she said, \u2018It seems only right I should accept, don\u2019t you think?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I took care to mask the note of disapproval in my voice when I said, \u2018If it seems right to you, then I suppose it\u2019s right for you. But wouldn\u2019t it seem more right if you actually saw<\/i> the man first?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018I don\u2019t need to see him to know I want him,\u2019 she said after another age of searching the air for her thoughts.<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018But eleven years. . . Have you at least seen a picture of him?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She scanned the walls as if she\u2019d hung a portrait of him here, in my parents\u2019 house. \u2018I\u2019ve heard his voice for eleven years,\u2019 she said at length. \u2018I think that\u2019s enough. I\u2019ll see his face when I meet him.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018And when\u2019s that?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018He says he\u2019ll come for me when it\u2019s time. I\u2019m sure he means for the wedding. Many couples don\u2019t see each other until the wedding day, anyway. So, it\u2019s fine. It\u2019s perfectly normal.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018I remember you telling me he travels a lot. Why hasn\u2019t he come here?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018The Netherlands is flat,\u2019 she said eventually. \u2018There are no real mountains here, and he only goes to places with proper mountains. He likes being close to the clouds, says it reminds him of ascending to heaven. It\u2019s. . . odd to hear him talk this way, but he died once and appreciates life more than we do.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Where does he live?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0She shrugged but after a silence added, \u2018He won\u2019t call where he is now home, so he doesn\u2019t see the point in telling me where he lives. He says he will take me to his birthplace when the time comes.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I nodded at the ring. \u2018He sent that, did he?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0She folded her right hand over her ringed hand and hugged it to her chest. \u2018He did.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018What\u2019s the return address?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018It came in this beautiful little jewellery box,\u2019 she replied after a time. \u2018It was unwrapped and unlabelled, perched on the front-door step, waiting for me. He called to tell me to go outside to collect it. A friend of his had just delivered it, which was very kind of him to do.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I was about to ask another question when I became aware of the stench of burnt food again and was reminded of the other question I\u2019d been meaning to ask her. \u2018Have you cooked anything today?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018Yes. I made\u2014Well, it doesn\u2019t matter. I burnt it,\u2019 she said so softly I had to lean in to catch it. \u2018I don\u2019t know why I keep burning the food,\u2019 she murmured.\u00a0<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I sighed inwardly. \u2018What did Awoowe<\/i>, Grandfather, eat, then?\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u2018I gave him a plate of banana slices,\u2019 she whispered when she was ready, \u2018some dates stuffed with nuts, and a handful of dried figs. His blood sugar level was low,\u2019 she explained. \u2018But it\u2019s fine now.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I pursued my lips and then said in strained but polite tones, \u2018That\u2019s all that matters. I\u2019ll take care of Awoowe\u2019s <\/i>dinner, then.\u2019<\/p>

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I left her standing with her head bowed in the hallway. I was certain it was bowed in shame, but my certainty didn’t last for long. For, sparing her a glance as I passed into the kitchen, I saw her lowered face smiling with something like satisfaction.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This mysterious short story in six parts will be published every Thursday.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":7334,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[333,332],"tags":[294,304,291],"class_list":["post-7331","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-creative-writing","category-literature-film","tag-creative-writing","tag-mystery","tag-short-story","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7331","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7331"}],"version-history":[{"count":23,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7331\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7356,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7331\/revisions\/7356"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7334"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7331"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7331"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7331"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}