I'm Ziggy Siegfried. But that probably doesn't count. Only my grandmother, who gave me a rather stony name, occasionally calls me that. She says it in public to make others [and herself] believe that I represent something great.
But I'm just Ziggy. No one knows my full name until they meet my grandmother. Here:
Siegfried, pour some tea
Siegfried, two sugar cubes
Siegfried, straighten your shirt
These are all errands for Ziggy. Right?
I don't like my name [there aren't that many fans of Scandinavian and related mythology in the world]. So - just Ziggy.
But I don't want to tell you about my name. It's always like that, once you start. I say my name, and the mere mention of Siegfried makes me verbose. I could have just started with "I'm Ziggy" and not mentioned Siegfried. But sometimes they throw out "really Ziggy?" That's why I answered in advance, even if you weren't going to ask. Well, sorry.
Actually, a rather inappropriate story happened to me. I'll tell you about it. You never thought that something could be more inappropriate than Siegfried in Portugal, did you? Spoiler: it can.
Chapter 1
I'm standing in front of the window. In the window, the tops of the laurisilva are flying in different directions.
At this window, my mother imagined herself a Hottentot, mistook my father for a chiruvi and shot him, and then herself. Right in the same place where I'm standing now. There are brown stains on the wooden floor. This is my mother. She often saw things that weren't there [that's what my grandmother says].
I don't remember either my father or my mother. So when I talk about them, I imagine a shot chiruvi and a brown stain on the floor.
This is where it all started. From the stain. This is the place of attraction. Here I imagine what would have happened if my mother hadn't shot my father. Or at least hadn't hit him in a vital organ. Or at least leave myself in this world. I wonder if I would have been Siegfried or the invariable Ziggy? Incredible accuracy: from a long distance, to hit the heart straight.
Only three bullets were missing: one was found in my father, the second in my mother, and the third somehow rolled under the dresser. When my grandmother is angry, she says it was meant for me.
I rarely visit this house. Today I turned twenty-two. Every year on this day, my grandmother organizes a pilgrimage here, so that God forbid I do not forget where my mother committed two murders twenty years ago. The obligatory program includes visiting the graves. My parents were buried in a common one. No one thought about what such neighbors were like for my father.
Our former house has become simply a country house. In the winter, my uncle [ordinary Santiago] lives there with his family. In the summer, my aunt [simply Maria] stays. My grandmother vetoed hunting around the property. But judging by how quickly Uncle returns with a fresh woodcock every time, he hunts straight from the doorstep.
In the fall, the house is empty. My grandmother and I stay for only a week, in November. At this time, the island is captured by bottomless fogs. And all that remains is to look at the tops of the laurisilva. It is everywhere here, and every year it beats us, propping up the walls of the house more and more tightly.
Chapter 2
I am standing in front of the window. A silhouette emerges from the fog. One might think that it is a chiruvi, but I am not my mother and I can distinguish a human silhouette from a hallucination.
In the fall, everything freezes. Therefore, the silhouette from the fog seems unreal. And yet - a girl. Hurrying to the house, as if she is expected.
While my grandmother gives instructions to her assistant, I am left to my own devices. You will say, "You are twenty-two, you are always left to yourself." This story is not about me. I, like this house, freeze every autumn and do not grow. I am Ziggy.
The girl turns the corner, apparently approached the threshold. I hear a quiet click against the background of my grandmother's commanding voice. I also hear footsteps, a light shuffling.
The door opens. She is on the threshold. I knew that the silhouette would come in sooner or later, but I am still embarrassed.
The girl looks straight into my forehead and confidently walks towards me.
Hello!
Uh
Are you Siegfried?
As if I am starting to blush.
Uh
Siegfried
Sums up affirmatively. Okay, Siegfried.
I am your sister
That is unlikely.
On my father's side, of course
Of course?
She looks into my eyes and waits for at least some kind of reaction. But for me it is as if a trillion spiders have spread their webs. Everything is brought together.
I am Dorish
Grandma's voice is closer. I wish she would come in soon: I am so indecently confused!
Dorish touches my shoulder.
I come every year. But they won't let me in, I had to
Like that?
Smiles.
Thank God you're not mute!
I am still confused.
We need to talk. But not here
Uh
Let's do it this way: meet at the crossroads at six o'clock
Grandma's voice is getting closer.
And don't say a word to anyone. I'll tell you everything
Dorish goes to the window, opens the casement and jumps out. At the same time, the door opens. Grandma is surprised.
Siegfried!
Coming to me.
Close this damn window immediately!
I closed it. What a tight one. I don't understand how she managed to do it so easily.
What's wrong with you?
Everything is fine
Enough. We'll have lunch now, get changed
Chapter 3
I'm standing in front of the window. And I don't know what to do. 17:55. Exactly three minutes to the crossroads. It turns out that I have two minutes to decide whether to go.
God knows, I shouldn't. "Not necessary" - all the actions that grandma definitely won't like.
I won't go. I definitely won't go.
The morning fog has conquered the day and spread into the evening. And where should I go in such weather? I'll stay home. They'll be serving tea soon. From the room I can hear the rumblings of the TV. Grandma is watching a music program. Something in German. It's so nice to fall asleep to it. Grandma always falls asleep first, I catch up.
And where should I go in such weather? I'll stay home.
I turn away from the window and walk towards the door. I shudder. There's a knock on the window. I swear, a second ago there was only fog.
Eyes from the fog are looking at me. How can I not go? I shouldn't have turned around, I should have left the room. As if I didn't hear, as if I were a fool. I am a fool.
I go to the window. A hand from the fog - open it. I open it and jump out to her.
Is it really not interesting?
I shrug.
Not really
You're lying
I'm lying.
Let's go quickly
He grabs my hand and pulls me into the forest. It's hard to breathe. The air is damp, my face is covered in drops of fresh water. He stops at the crossroads.
Couldn't you have said it there?
So that everyone could hear?
He turns around.
Our father was killed, you know?
I'm silent. I don't know.
It's not an accident, you know?
I don't know. I'm silent.
Who, you know?
I don't know
Your mother
I'm silent.
Why, you know?
I don't know.
Because she found out about me
I'm silent. She saw me and shot him that same day
Actually, it sounds strange.
And why didn't she kill you?
Dorish looks at me and seems to be trying to figure out whether I'm joking or not.
Are you serious?
Yes
Because she missed
What?
I was walking hand in hand with my father when she shot
It was as if my eyelids became heavy.
And why are you telling me this?
So that he knows
I don't believe
Why?
Not just so that he knows
Dorish doesn't blink.
So that he knows the truth about his mother
She's been dead for a long time
She's silent.
And my father's been dead for a long time
She's silent.
And you're still dragging dead people along with you
She's silent.
And since she's a sister, you could have met me like a brother. And not like that.
What do you mean, not like that?
Yeah, just like that. I don't believe it at all.
Why don't you believe it?
There's a lot you can say
Chapter 4
Ziiiiiiigfried!
Grandma.
I have to go
I turn away and quickly walk towards home.
Stop!
Dorish runs after me [Always wanted a brother or sister]
I have to go
I don't turn around [An older sister]
Come here tomorrow!
Why?
Let's talk like brother and sister
I nod. She stops [And she seems older]
Okay
I don't turn around, but I feel the back of my head stop aching from someone else's gaze. Dorish has left [Or maybe she's right, and my mother shot me on purpose. Who knows]
The tops of the laurisilva are so noisy that I can't even hear my own footsteps [Who knows what's on the minds of people with hallucinations and obsessions]
This forest is amazing. It will help muffle the screeching of a closing window. Just in time.
[Even if my mother killed my father, so what? What to do with it? There's no way to get anyone out. And if they do, they won't revive them]
I come out of the fog. Grandma is looking out the window. She's holding a gun. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the same one my mother used [strange, she said they got rid of it right away]
Grandma is without her glasses. I wave my hand.
Grandma is shouting something. She's shouting loudly, but I can't hear what she's saying over the noise of the trees.
I quicken my pace. Grandma doesn't lower her gun. I look around. No one. Who is she aiming at? No danger.
I walk even faster.
Maruni!
What?
Charoooooooooooooooooooooo
What?
Grandma, it's me
Charoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
A dull thud. This thud is so loud that it throws me back into the fog.
I'd like to see the sky. But the fog is in the way. I see the tops of the laurisilva. They make noise like the sea. Close your eyes - you won't be able to tell the difference.
Ah, chiruvi.
That's why the third bullet is for me. Here it is - the promised third bullet.
Now it hit me in the heart, just like my father. Incredible accuracy: to hit the heart from a long distance.