Ruins of Autumn

26• You Are In Danger.

    "I found out the beginning of my story when I overheard my stepmother, Zana, talking one day to her sister, Anxhelina. Zana and my father had been at the same school and hadn't gotten along with each other, but they had been forced by their families to marry together when they had both been twenty years old. A member of my family many years ago wrongfully took land from Zana's family by making a false oath. He had been the second child among his siblings, and when his second child died, he thought he was being punished for the land that he had taken wrongfully and returned the land to its rightful owners. Like in the movies, this situation; curses, punishments..." Leonora forced her lips to curl into a mocking laugh. "The area where I lived in Puka considered the rule that false oaths shouldn't be taken, otherwise they would suffer very bad luck in life, a law, and this rule still applies nowadays. However, when the second granddaughter of the family member who took the false oath died, he became obsessed with the doubt that the return of the land wasn't enough, and in order to stop the disasters that he predicted would happen due to his fault, he came up with the idea of marriage. A child who would bring together both families would ultimately save them. So my grandfather prepared a deal: my father had to marry the first daughter of that house, Zana, and her brother, who was in prison for political reasons, would be released, since my grandfather knew people who could do that. Zana's father agreed, and a year later, Graniti was born. Zana loved someone else at the time, and my father loved another girl."
 
    "They never loved each other?"
 
    "Zana did; he didn't. After a year of their marriage, Graniti was born. My uncle, Kastrioti, didn't die, and neither did I, as the second child I was. Grandfather's plan worked, but we still suffered consequences, even though we didn't do anything wrong. Ardiani cheated on Zana with my mother, Teuta, when he was twenty-nine years old and she was twenty-five. I was unplanned, as you can understand." She kept quiet a little to fight against the depressing impact of that fact. "My mother wanted to abort me, but the doctors told her that it was too dangerous, and they couldn't do that operation, so she had to give birth to me. Then she left me in the hands of Ardiani and renounced all her rights and responsibilities towards me. She died two years later of epilepsy. Zana fell into a deep depression when she found out about my father's betrayal and my existence, and..." She took a deep breath to control her tears. "... She aborted the child she was expecting." Leonora covered her face and lowered her head to cry. She had lost the war since she was born.
 
    "Not because of you," Blerimi ran his left hand through her hair, certain that it would be very difficult to convince her, since the others had made her believe, that it had always been her fault, just because she was Teuta's daughter, as he had blamed Anila Idrizaj, because she had been Amarildo's sister.
 
    The payback was still ongoing, and the added punishment was that he had no chance to turn things around and was suffering through the mill that Leonora had gone through.
 
    "It wasn't your fault at all, Nora."
 
    She nodded in denial.
 
    "Didn't Graniti protect you?"
 
    Leonora shook her head and wiped away her tears.
 
    "No, he has always been against me. He forced me to marry Albioni. My father didn't care less about my life. He never did, actually. Graniti interfered more than he should—with whom I hung out, what clothes I had to wear, what to watch on TV, what books to read—and now, after he has caused all that chaos, he comes and apologizes. As if I don't know, he has planned something evil, and I will fall into that trap so easily," she vented bitterly. 
 
    "Maybe he has really changed."
 
    His hypothesis made Leonora immediately raise her head and attack him with a tearful look, disappointed in him.
 
    "Blerim, do you think too that people should be forgiven because the past, when they have made a mistake, can't come back?"
 
    "No," he tried to protect himself. "I don't think so for a single moment. I know that some people, just because they have this kind of mindset, do the wrong things. They say that, since the time when they will do a particular injustice to someone will soon be considered the past and that time cannot be returned, they will be easily forgiven, but the rest act as much as they know because others instruct them to. Maybe Graniti belongs to the second group too. He is responsible for the way he has treated you. I'm not dismissing such a fact, but it's not entirely his fault, Nora. Those who taught him that way are also responsible, but now he has realised that they have been using him, and he has stopped. He is trying to fix his mistakes. He can't be manipulated anymore. He has met people who have really respected him, and regardless of how many times he has pushed them away with the suspicion that they were trying to deceive him, they haven't given up on him and have proven to him that they deserve to be by his side. He had wanted to protect you; not choosing the right path, he also admits it, I believe, if you would ask him, but I'm sure that one of the reasons why he has behaved like that has been to protect his sister. You probably aren't aware precisely, but who knows in how much trouble that person has been involved for you."
 
    Leonora looked down at her hands and thought of all the times Graniti had come home with blood on his knuckles and hands. She had never thought that he would fight with anyone for her. She had never argued with any boy or girl.
 
    "I have no intention of making you feel guilty, never." Blerimi felt it was necessary to clarify so as not to be misinterpreted. "You were hurt, and your reaction is normal. It's not fair at all that you were forced to live that kind of life. No one has paid attention to your rights, but only to their own. I just don't want you to regret the decision you'll make regarding your brother, so I suggest you think about a discussion with him. Sit somewhere and talk one more time."
 
    The wavering in her sad gaze reminded him of Xhuliana. He had never been on such bad terms with her as Leonora and Graniti were, and he could guess how much the latter felt the need for his sister's presence in his life.
 
    "Listen," he came closer to Leonora. "I don't know if Denada has had the chance to tell you that I have had a sister two years older than me."
 
    "No," she answered. 
 
    "She met someone when she was in university; he treated her very badly, and Xhuliana killed herself from depression."
 
    Leonora was nearly bursting into tears.
 
    "I have never tried to impose restrictions on my sister like Graniti has done to you. It had never occurred to me to do something like that, to do something that would hurt my other self, but if I had known for sure that maybe that method would have saved my sister, and now I would have the chance to talk to her whenever I wanted to, it would have crossed my mind to stop her from doing some things. I wouldn't have done it, I know, but if I had deeply thought about it, I could have acted like that. Now I can't talk to her. I can't tell her that it wasn't her fault that she was treated that way, as if she had committed war crimes. I can't even tell her that we really don't have our parents for support because they have both passed away, but I will make every effort so that she never feels the lack of support if she allows me."
 
    The despair on his face was matched by the sorrow in her eyes for him. Leonora wanted to ask him where the person who had hurt his sister was in those moments, but she didn't want to make Blerimi more sad and thought of talking about him another time.
 
    "Zana had told Anxhelina that she had felt that the child was a girl and wanted to name her Arjanela. I have seen her many times in my dreams," she confessed in a low voice, saddened by that loss.
 
    That name would have been so important for her if her sister had been born. In every version, Leonora had imagined Arjanela as emotionally stronger than her, that she would have defended her against Graniti and not only. She had dreamed in the impossibility to hope that those illusions would ever become true; like they did the house chores together, their homework, like they slept in the same room, Leonora hugging her tightly with her arm from time to time along her belly, her head close to her shoulder, and listening to Arjanela's wise voice in the darkness of their room while she talked about various topics; like they wore each other's clothes and played together...
 
    Leonora was blindly convinced by her intuition that her sister wouldn't have succumbed to the closed mentality and ignorance of society and been against it. She would have grown up with someone by her side if Zana hadn't aborted Arjanela, influenced by the depressive state she had fallen into, with the excuse that she didn't want her daughter to suffer the same fate as she had in life. That's why she saved her from all the suffering that could have been waiting for her through that abortion. The fear of history repeating itself had prevailed over the argument that the fact that there was a possibility for the opposite to happen was enough to consider her birth, and Leonora had only had a sister for a few weeks before being separated eternally from her.
 
    "Now it's just you and your right to live as you wish, Nora. I won't let anyone stop you," he swore firmly. "Your family is my family, and your enemies are my enemies. Except for yourself, when you see her as an enemy. I will always love her," he added with a slight smile, and Leonora arched her lips, grateful for his loyalty. "What's your favourite colour?" He changed the subject to cheer her up.
 
    "Dark red," she said positively. "You? Which one do you like?"
 
    "The black colour."
 
    "When is your birthday?"
 
    "November 3rd."
 
    Leonora smiled in wonder. "Was it your birthday the day we met for the first time? We were born in the same season. My birthday is on September 3rd."
 
    "You're an autumn princess," Blerimi passed a lock of hair from the right side in front of her shoulders.
 
    "How old did you turn that day?" she asked.
 
    "Twenty-nine."
 
    "I'm twenty-three."
 
    "You're very beautiful," he complimented her, and Leonora's eyes sparkled more, while her cheekbones took on a more pronounced shade of pink than usual. "I think a trip would do you very good, Nora. To leave Albania. How about America?"
 
    "I would really love to, but at the moment I'm saving money and I can't travel, so..."
 
    "Wait. You think I'll let you pay?" It was clear that he wouldn't accept something like that.
 
    "This is the right thing to do, I say."
 
    "No, the right thing is that in this case the one who makes the invitation pays, and that one person is me," said Blerimi. "You will only have the responsibility to be happy."
 
    "I don't know." Leonora shrugged.
 
    "Don't you want to travel with me?"
 
    "Of course I do, Blerim," she replied immediately. "But..."
 
    "That is enough. You gave the correct answer when you said that you do. You don't have to keep talking."
 
    Leonora laughed. "OK, let's travel." She agreed enthusiastically. 
 
••••
    Graniti crossed his sister's mind longer while she was choosing the clothes she was going to take to America. She had planned with Blerimi to spend a few quiet days on the American continent, and in those moments, as she stared at a black sweater on its hanger in the open wardrobe, she was wondering if she should tell her brother that she was leaving the country.
 
    His objectionable reaction had been formed instantly, as soon as that question had been posed. Graniti would remark why she was travelling with someone she had just met; he wouldn't listen when Leonora told him that she had the absolute feeling, without any doubt, that Blerimi loved her and that he would never hurt her, and Graniti would try to stop her from going to America.
 
    Maybe Graniti wouldn't want to know at all what she was doing with her life, because then he would be more encouraged to intervene, while not knowing anything about her would keep him from doing wrong. 
 
    That was the right thing to do. Whenever they would be in the same environment together, they would remember the bitter past between them. It seemed to Leonora that the best way to heal was separately. Maybe years later they would meet again, and then slowly they would get along well with each other without any kind of grudge between them.
 
    "Nora."
 
    The voice of her flatmate reminded her that she would have to tell her that she would not be at home for a few days.
 
    "I'm in the bedroom," Leonora called with her eyes on the door while waiting for her friend to enter.
 
        She smiled at Brunilda Idrizaj when she met her soft gaze and closed the doors of the blue wardrobe. 

    "How was your day?"
 
    "Exhausting," Brunilda threw the black purse on her bed and took off the beige jacket.
 
    "Lunch is ready," Leonora said. "But I want to tell you something first," she stood up nervously.
 
    "Sure, what's up?"
 
    "I will leave for a few days in America."
 
    "Are you okay?" Brunilda asked, worried.
 
    "Yes, I'm great," Leonora replied happily. "I'm going on vacation with my boyfriend," she added excitedly.
 
    Brunilda was cut on the face and grimly remembered the argument three years ago with her cousin, Anila, because of Blerim Agolli. Her best friend had turned her back on her, choosing her boyfriend over their friendship, and she still had scars on her heart from that fragment of the past.
 
    "What?" Leonora didn't understand why Brunilda's face had suddenly darkened, and now she looked like someone who was remembering deep traumas from the past.
 
    "Nothing," Brunilda answered. "I thought of something by chance. I'm glad you're going on vacation."
 
    She didn't know Leonora had a boyfriend. She hadn't told Brunilda anything until those moments, nor had she seen her go on dates with anyone.
 
    During the following days, Brunilda kept to herself the suspicions that troubled her, to be said aloud, that Leonora was rushing and should think before taking such an important step. There was no chance on Earth that she was going to repeat the same mistake as with Anila and interfere in Leonora's life.
 
    She had repeatedly thought about apologising to her cousin for the way her attitude had been towards Blerimi, but the fear that Anila would push her away and offend her under the influence of Blerimi had forced Brunilda to not meet her. She hadn't spoken, nor had she met her, since they had ended their friendship three years ago. She had no idea what was going on with Anila.
 
    Brunilda hated it so much that they both still had her under control from the remaining feelings caused by the hurt caused by Anila and her words, and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't win against them. She always ended up thinking that she had lost because she was a weak person, and maybe she really didn't deserve the company of Anila, who had tried extremely hard to get her out of her comfort zone of excessive introversion by taking her to different places, to create beautiful memories. She hadn't known the value of such a person, and now it was too late to repent.
 
    "Professor?"
 
    She looked at Alketa Nura, and the rest of the class, who were looking at her strangely, realised that she had fallen into deep thoughts again and had been swayed by reality.
 
    What had the fifteen-year-old pupil, with the cocoa-caramel hair tied in a bun on top of her head and a strand left to the side of her heart-shaped face, asked her about? Brunilda couldn't recall.
 
    "What? I was lost in thoughts," she said, guilty.
 
    "I asked if we're going to have homework." Alketa looked at her understandingly.
 
    Brunilda couldn't concentrate. Even the students seemed confused by her behaviour.
 
    "No, you won't have homework." She took the shortcut to end that situation, and the end of the bell ring saved her.
 
    The teenagers hurried out of the classroom. Brunilda put her notebook and Math book into the black bag more slowly than usual, along with the blue and red pens, the pencils, and the switched-off phone. 
 
    She clattered her heels down the first-floor corridor and tried to avoid the usual group of several female teachers near the school's main door.
 
    "You're wasting your time. She won't accept."
 
    She heard the geography teacher warning the woman, who broke away from the group and went towards her.
 
    "How are you, Brunilda?" The Albanian Language teacher opened the conversation with a hearty tone.
 
    "Fine," she said, without any emotion in her voice.
 
    "We were planning to go out for a drink, if you would like to come."
 
    "Thank you. I have other plans."
 
    "I see," she smiled. "Have a nice day."
 
    "Goodbye." Brunilda turned to the exit, regretting that she had refused that time as well. 
 
    She appreciated that they invited her, and she wanted to join them, but the reluctance that she would suffer the same fate as she had from Anila didn't allow her to hang out, and she had no close friends. Except recently, she had accepted Leonora's invitations, thinking that she would slowly go out with someone else and have a close friend again.
 
    "Sidorel."
 
    The Mathematics teacher looked to the left, from where she heard Alketa Nura's voice, and followed the girl's direction towards a man with short, hazel-coloured hair, wearing a blue sweatshirt, grey jeans, and white trainers, who stood with his back to Brunilda and was waiting for Alketa.
 
    "Did you forget anything?"
 
    Brunilda heard his serious and composed voice.
 
    "No, we can go," Alketa said, noticing Brunilda, looking at her, and her dark hazel brown eyes shone more in a smile.
 
    "Have a nice day, professor." Her greeting made the tattooist turn around to look at her.
 
    "You too," Brunilda also greeted the pupil, looked at Sidoreli in passing, kept her eyes fixed on the calm green of his eyes for a moment, and left the school without looking back.