Ruins of Autumn

60• Duster Knuckles

    Leonora remained like a statue on the entrance stairs of the salon, aware of the judgmental stare in Anila's sharp eyes, even for the fact that she was breathing, and walked towards her.
 
    She stood in front of her with a small distance between them and asked to touch her soul with a kind look, but Anila stared at her rigidly, as if she didn't have a soul at all.
 
    Leonora lowered her head in defeat. Anila closed her eyes, tired from the strength shown just before, and looked at her gently.
 
    "I didn't have the courage to come earlier," she risked expressing her perceived weakness, and Leonora looked at her understandingly.
 
    "Thank you for coming." Her grateful eyes shone from the shallow layer of tears.
 
    "Shall we sit somewhere and talk?"
 
    Leonora nodded, and they walked side by side, still feeling like strangers in the reality they were living in, as if someone had thrown them unfairly into that stage of history and not that they had agreed upon themselves a little while ago to talk.
 
    Anila led her to the entrance of a bar, with pine green walls, hazel parquet floors, and carpets under each yellow square table, flanked by tea-brown sofas and round tables also in a light maroon shade, with navy blue chairs around them.
 
    As if they had agreed with words that they would need privacy to cry, they decided to sit at a round table, distanced from the others and hidden at the end of the bar by a dividing wall in the straight row of tables behind it.
 
    They waited for the waitress to take the order before one of them opened the conversation. Leonora was looking away with her heart pounding in her frail chest to keep the warrior in its grip longer, and Anila had her blank eyes fixed on Leonora's white phone with a gold-yellow case. Leonora understood Anila's dead gaze, which she once had herself and occasionally continued to have when she was not with her family, was visited by the past, and her eyes heated up in tears from her condition. She wanted to hug her and help her, as she asked. The waitress left the bill with their drinks on the table and left.
 
    Neither of them had the courage to speak yet.
 
    Anila took the cup with trembling hands to drink the tea she ordered. Why was she avoiding it? She was finally in front of Leonora to talk and finish everything.
 
    "How did you find out?" She couldn't look at her when she asked, afraid that she would give up and that she would tell her that she couldn't look at her without thinking about Blerimi and that night and for Leonora to get out of her sight.
 
    "A woman came and told me when I was living with Blerimi in America. After that, he confessed everything: that he used you to get revenge for his sister, that he had deleted your videos, and that he had killed your brother."
 
    Anila kept her eyes on the cup placed carefully on its plate. So it was true. Blerimi had literally returned to Amarildo with the same coin as the crime committed by her brother. The war had ended that night for both of them and had begun for her.
 
    "I also talked to Denada Gjozefi," continued Leonora. "She was the cousin of Blerimi and Xhuliana and, at the same time, her close friend."
 
    Anila remembered Denada's face when she met her six years ago in a bar with Blerimi and Albion Huba. She had known that she had been in danger and had remained silent.
 
    "She told me that Xhuliana had lived a few months after Amarildo's crime against her, and then..." Leonora covered her face with her hands, and Anila clenched her teeth so as not to cry too.
 
    Xhuliana's life shouldn't have ended that way. She should have been among them, to tell them how she had made it, to motivate them, and to give them strength to leave the past behind and allow themselves to enjoy the present.
 
    "She had given up on life at Denada's house." Leonora spoke with a trembling voice and placed her hands on the table. "Xhuliana had waited for Denada to go to work. Denada had found her dead in the bedroom. She still cries from that memory. She had loved her like her own sister. She lost as much as Blerimi. Trapped by the fear that Amarildo would hurt her family if she told anyone about him and Xhuliana, she couldn't say anything to you that day, when you two happened to be in the same bar six years ago. Blerimi had been with Albion Huba when she met them by chance and greeted them. Albioni knew Denada because his brother, Agustini, had been in the same class with her, but he hadn't met her for a long time. Denada hadn't known that he was a friend of Blerimi," she said with an averted gaze, and Anila listened in the same way, remembering the overheard conversation between the three of them. "Denada tried to keep you away from Blerimi and still eats herself every day with teeth out of hatred for the way she chose to do that. He had found out anyway and had secretly decided to avenge his way. Blerimi told me that he regretted it afterward."
 
    Anila looked up harshly at her.
 
    "Did you believe him?"
 
    Her cutting question, like the blade of a sword, made Leonora tremble with fear, that if she said 'No,'  Anila would declare her guilty and hate her, a feeling that would make Leonora feel as if she would remain a hostage in her life if she did not earn Anila's respect.
 
    "I didn't weigh his words at all, not even for them to go through my mind. I listened and ignored them. As soon as I found out about you, I immediately asked for the divorce," said Leonora.
 
    "What was that woman's name?"
 
    "I don't know. I was too shocked and didn't care much about it at that moment. I didn't even ask Blerimi. I just wanted to get away from him. I don't believe he would have told me the truth if I had asked him."
 
    Anila accompanied her silence with stress. Who was that woman? How had she found out? Was she still a threat to her, or was she no longer alive?
 
    "I didn't know about you two," Leonora swore, shaking her head. "If I had known before, I would never, ever have chosen him over you."
 
    Anila silently composed her honest look, and her heart trusted her. What an irony! The woman in front of her, who didn't know her at all, was telling her that she would have chosen her over the love of her life, while Blerimi, who had the chance to know her, had taken away the line to her as if he had never met her. A stranger was supporting her instead of someone else, who had been tasked with doing such an act.
 
    "I'm sorry." Leonora apologised in advance. "Sometimes, I imagine he hadn't committed that crime; I remember our moments and feel that I still have a thread of love left from the past. But I'll snap that one too," she promised with tearful eyes. "This is the right thing to do."
 
    "I was guilty too," Anila admitted. "I never asked Blerimi if he had any problems or not. I behaved like a naive summer child. I have always believed that problems can be solved with positivity, but not every time they are solved with avoidance, driven by the mindset that just being optimistic is enough. I had to be realistic, admit that there was something wrong, and face the truth. He had all that suffering in his soul. I could have saved him and myself. I would have appreciated it more if he had killed me."
 
    "Don't say that," Leonora begged her, to give up on such thoughts. "What about your family?"
 
    "It's because of them that I am alive," Anila smiled bitterly. "Otherwise, I would have put an end to everything a long time ago."
 
    "Anila, you gave Blerimi the reasons to give up on the wrong path he had chosen, but he refused and paid the consequences. He should have been more realistic, since he was older than you, knew more, and had lost more. Or... maybe I shouldn't have said that second part of the sentence. I don't know what kind of life you've lived," Leonora regretted.
 
    "You were right," Anila confirmed with desperate nostalgia, that the time when she was convinced that she had everything she wanted and was completely happy would never come again.
 
    "Or he could have loved you, and you would have been happy together," Leonora added.
 
    If that had happened, she would probably never have met Blerimi and would have remained imprisoned by Albioni for life, or maybe she would have accepted Graniti's help and been free. How differently their stories would have continued!
 
    "No, I would have broken up." Anila said, certain. "I wouldn't have stayed with him even for a second longer, knowing what had happened to Xhuliana because of Ildo. I couldn't have risked myself, wondering when Blerimi would suddenly decide to take revenge, and neither could I have risked my little sister, Visara. But I was wicked, and I risked both of us. It happens sometimes that a crisis gets someone when they don't know what loss is, and they have to learn it in the most painful way possible," she moralised with a merciless tone of bitterness in her voice.
 
    "It wasn't just Blerimi who lost, Anila, but you too. You lost your brother long before he passed away. You lost it when he hurt Xhuliana." Leonora couldn't use the word 'rape' because she knew that she would break down in tears when she remembered her past with Albioni, and it would stick more in her mind.
 
    Her sensitivity had always made her seem delicate and gentle. Empathy made her feel very deeply about the stories she heard and read and the events that happened to her.
 
    "Blerimi should have thought that you were just as much a victim as he and his sister, and he should have brought justice to you too, not to kill you in that way."
 
    Anila approved her words in grief. Leonora's understanding and support were giving her comfort so that she wouldn't feel entirely guilty that things had gone so badly and that Blerimi had been responsible as well. He had the last word since he knew more and had failed in the decision he had made.
 
    "It's over," said Leonora. "Not as we wanted to, but we have no choice but to accept the end of that chapter and focus on the present. We have family members who deserve to see us happy." A thread of joy was brought to her heart when she remembered Graniti, their father, and Zana. "Do you have people of your own?"
 
    Anila nodded silently. "My parents, a sister, and... I'm dating someone," she muttered in the dilemma of whether it would be better not to discuss that aspect of life with her.
 
    "Anila." Leonora's eyes, dry from tears, laughed with happiness. "I am so glad," she said those words from her heart. "I wish, with all my heart, that you are only happy."
 
    "Thank you," Anila was no longer feeling the weight of the past on her back. There was only the feeling left by her absence, and the smile took its place, which belonged to her closed lips. "Shall we leave?'
 
    "Yes," Leonora opened her bag to take out her wallet.
 
    "What are you doing?" Anila stretched her hand forward to stop her.
 
    The furrowing of her brows and her stern gaze unnerved Leonora when she realised what it was all about.
 
    "I thought... you know? Because..."
 
    "No," Anila took the money out of her bag and called the waiter. "I really appreciate it, but it's up to me."
 
    Leonora remained silent so as not to create an argument between them, and they both left the bar.
 
    "Which way are you heading?" asked Anila.
 
    "This way," Leonora gestured to her left.
 
    "Ah, I'm on the opposite one."
 
    They faced each other and first exchanged parting glances.
 
    "I'll be waiting for news from you that a person not related to your blood and who deserves to see you happy has been added to your list." Anila meant for Leonora to allow someone into her romantic life if the opportunity came.
 
    "No, I think I'm done at this aspect," she smiled as if she had just said a joke, but sadness straightened her lips and occupied her eyes.
 
    "Nora, what did we talk about a while ago? How to prepare pickles, or move forward, without looking back?"
 
    "How to prepare..." she shook her head. "How to move forward without looking back," she answered nervously, like a child before a strict parent.
 
    "Exactly. This is the plan, and there are no changes. If you change something, then I will change too."
 
    "No," Leonora protested with a fragile voice and tearful eyes, and a storm of chaos and inexplicable feelings flooded all her cells when Anila stretched her arms towards her to hug her.
 
    Leonora accepted her warm embrace and the good smell of the perfume she had put on, placed her hands behind her back, and took a deep breath. How lucky her sister, Visara, was to have her as a family member. Had she had her, or had she been a person of such character, she would have reached higher levels much earlier in life.
 
    Anila understood her struggle, not to sob out loud, when she felt the slight tremors of her body and felt herself in danger of crying in regret for not letting Blerimi go when Brunilda had suggested doing that for her to be saved, but Anila had been selfish and had thought only about her happiness instead of that of the girl, who could have been waiting for Blerimi in the meantime.
 
    Apologising to Leonora seemed insufficient. Anila had contributed to turning her whole life upside down with her selfishness, and yet Leonora didn't find her guilty at all. In fact, she was the one who apologised to Anila, as if everything had happened only because of her fault.
 
    She removed her hands from Leonora's back and fixed her braids.
 
    "Who else, apart from Denada, knows our history?" Anila asked her.
 
    "No one," Leonora couldn't tell her brother's name, in order not to scare Anila that he was going to use that part of her history for evil purposes.
 
    For Graniti, she was sure that he wouldn't say a word, neither willingly nor in a drunken state, because he didn't consume alcohol or narcotic substances at all. When he went out with friends, he only bought alcoholic drinks to be in line with them, but he didn't drink.
 
    "Everyone paid for their own mistakes and those of others," Anila summed up, exhausted from judging the past anymore. "We have one more obligation left, which we will have for the rest of our lives: not to repeat them."
 
    "True" Leonora supported her, motivated to fulfil that task. "Sometimes, we are not punished because we have made mistakes, but because we do not forgive ourselves for the mistakes we made."
 
    Anila nodded her head, gave her a greeting smile, and turned her back to walk away from her and the past, this time washing her hands with it for good.
 
    Leonora saw the last lock of the prison door, where she had been until the meeting with Anila, being broken, and she returned free to her home in Tirana.