Stories: All-New Tales

“Okay-Baku, and a Yit.”

She leaned over and kissed me on one side of my mouth. “I like how you stop me and ask for clarification. Most people just let me rattle on.”

“Proceed.”

“Okay. So at the end of the trip I wanted to spend some time in Baku because one of my favorite novels, Ali and Nino, takes place there. The book makes the city sound like one of the most romantic places on earth. It isn’t, but that’s beside the point.

“I was visiting a section called Sabuncu. My guide was Magsud, an Azeri fluent in English who we’d used before when I was there on assignment for the network. So I knew the guy pretty well. He knew the sort of things I liked and was interested in. This time, because I wasn’t working, I hired him just to show me around.

“When we got to Sabuncu, Magsud said one of the most famous djelloum in Russia lived in that part of the city. Would I be interested in visiting her? Things like palmists, astrology, and tarot card readings are like crack for chicks. Seers, shamans, psychics-lead us to ’em. So I said sure, I’d love to meet a Yit.

“Her name was Lamiya, which is Azeri for ‘educated.’ She lived in a small apartment in one of those soulless 1950s, gray-cement Communist public-housing projects where every building looks exactly the same and you can easily get lost. I think there were two rooms in the place but we only saw the living room, which was dark even in the middle of the day. Lamiya sat on a couch. Next to it was a baby bassinet. The whole time we were there she kept one hand inside the bassinet, as if she were touching the baby to keep it quiet.

“After we sat down, she asked Magsud if I knew about lal bala, which means the silent child. He said no. She told him to explain it to me before she went any further. Of course I didn’t understand them because they were speaking Azeri. But I did see him grimace when she finished, like it was going to be tough explaining this in a way that I’d comprehend.

“While Magsud explained lal bala to me, Lamiya kept her hand constantly inside the bassinet. I didn’t know why until later.” Ava stopped speaking and just stared at me for a few moments. I think she was gathering her energy to go on to the difficult part.

“Now I’m going to tell you the story exactly as it happened. You can believe it or not, but just know that I do with all my heart because of what Lamiya told me about myself. Details and facts no one on earth could know but me. No one, do you understand? Not my parents, or my sister, no one. But Lamiya knew. She rattled off the most intimate things about me like she was reading them from a list.

“Let me first explain the silent child. According to legend, there are three of them in Russia at all times. When one dies another is immediately born to replace it. It’s kind of like the succession of the Dalai Lama in Tibet: a silent child chooses its mother before it’s born.”

“What do you mean, before it’s born? Before the child is born?”

“Yes. Lamiya said she knew she’d have a silent child the moment she first sensed she was pregnant. So when hers was born, she wasn’t surprised or upset to see it.”

“Why would you be upset to see your own baby? Was there something wrong with it?”

Ava looked apprehensive, as if hesitant to tell what must be said next. “The child is not alive. I mean, it’s half alive-half alive and half dead; it lives half in this world and half in the other world too.”

“What ‘other world’?”

“The afterlife. The baby’s half alive and half dead, as I said. It never ages. It lives a certain number of years; they never know how many it’ll be. That’s different for each child. The day it dies, it looks exactly the same as it did on the day it was born, although some of these children live for decades. It never moves, eats, or breathes. It never opens its eyes. But its heart beats, and most important, it’s an oracle.

“After she’s told you secret things about yourself that absolutely convinces you beyond a doubt that she’s genuine, you’re allowed to ask the mother two questions. You can ask anything-about the past, about the future, anything you want. As long as she’s touching her silent child, she will answer them. But you are only allowed to ask two.”

“What did you ask?”

Ava shook her head. “I won’t tell you. But part of-” She stopped, got up, and walked to the window. I sat still, waiting for some sign about what to do-go to her, sit, talk, keep quiet…

Touching the window glass, she slid her fingers in a long arc across the condensation there. I could almost feel the cold wetness under my own fingertips. What she said next took me completely off guard.

“Did Eamon Reilly ever tell you about his past? About his childhood?”

“Eamon? What does he have to do with this?”

“A lot.” Ava began rubbing both hands back and forth very fast on the glass, as if trying to erase something. Then she turned to face me. “Just go along with me on this-it’s all of a piece. Did you ever talk to him about his past?”

“No.”

“Eamon’s father was a pilot. He terrorized his family for years, beat them all up and did many other terrible things-a genuine sadist. One of his favorite tortures was to fly really low back and forth over their house in a small plane when he knew everyone was home. Eamon said it was so frightening that the kids and their mother used to all hide under the beds or in the cellar because they were sure one day he’d crash the plane into the house and kill them.”

“What happened to him?”

“The guy was also a drunk who luckily drove his car off a bridge one day and died.”

“Jesus! So that’s why Eamon has…what, issues?”

“Yes. Once I got so fed up with the way he was behaving that I slapped him. Only then did he tell me some of the stories and details of his childhood. Finally I began to understand why he is the way he is. It doesn’t make him any less exasperating, but boy, with that background…”

“Terrible. Poor guy.”

“Yeah. I don’t know if that’s the whole reason for him being so peculiar, but it’s gotta contribute.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I asked, “But what does it have to do with the silent child?”

“One of the things Lamiya told me was that I’m part of a curse.”

I slowly uncrossed my arms and then didn’t know what to do with them. “What do you mean, you’re cursed?” My voice sounded both skeptical and desperate at the same time. How useless your hands and voice are at moments like that. They’re all just in the way; none of them knows what to do or how to behave in a crisis that’s suddenly dropped on you in the form of one word-like “cursed,” or “dead,” or “cancer.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m part of a curse. But I guess in some ways I am because of the role I play in this.

“Lamiya said that after I returned to America I’d get pregnant, which I have. But my child will be cursed to live exactly the same life as its father whether it wants to or not. Only some unimportant details will be different.” She stopped and said nothing else but continued staring straight at me. I think she was letting her words sink in.

“She didn’t say who the father would be?”

“No, she wouldn’t. She said whoever made me pregnant, they’d be the one carrying the curse.”

“So that could be me too, Ava.”

“Yes it could, you’re right. We’ll find out with a DNA test, but I wanted to talk to you first before I did it. You’re obviously a big part of this.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said cynically and meanly, although I didn’t want to. I never wanted to be mean to her, but why was she telling me this now? Why not before?

More silence.

“I love you Ava, but this is nuts, absolutely nuts. It sounds like one of the Arabian Nights-the silent child, a djelloum, a curse…How can you know it’s true?”

“Because of the things that have happened since I saw her. Things Lamiya said would happen. Every single one of them has taken place: the pregnancy, my affair with Eamon, and most of all you.”

“What do you mean, me?”