The Praetor and Other Stories. Aurel Stancu

I don’t know how it happened but, being so obsessed with my career, I forgot everything about my health, you, or the little joys of life.”

      The man grew stiff. What could he do? Shout, break something, hug Iulia, kneel down and pray? He stood stock-still and stared at the woman of his life as if she were a stranger.

      “I wish you knew how many years I’ve waited for you to make up your mind and ask me to live with you. I once knelt down and kissed the trace of your foot on the carpet in the faculty room. I breathed in your perfume, and I caressed your coat on the hallstand. I’ve spent my life waiting for you to phone me, answer my greetings, and allow me to take a walk with my sons, waiting for the morning to come and me to go and see you at work.… I’ve grown old waiting for you. And now you want to leave for ever, without me?”

      “Please relax and listen to me. I think you should tell the boys you’re their father. But not now, after my death. You’re a good man, Emil. Even if I’ve ruined your life, here I am again, asking you the last favor. It might not be the right time to disturb them with such a revelation but you can be the guarding angel they will need so badly.”

      “If only you knew how many times I wanted to break the oath and tell them that I was their father, that I guarded their door and steps and thoughts…so many memories and so much distance.… Why can’t I die in your place?”

      “Don’t say that! Can’t you see the chaos we’d create if we could negotiate and replace death?”

      * * * *

      The doctors had been right. Almost six months later Iulia Datcu died. A few hours before she did it, she asked to see her sons and told them: “I’m leaving without you. Good-bye.” And she closed her eyes. On the funeral day it rained a little. There were many people there, wreaths, there was the religious service.… Being mature now, Dragos and Mihai didn’t lose their head. Emil Mateescu cried all the time. In the local newspaper there was a whole page full of obituaries and a commendatory article signed by the dean.

      For one year Emil Mateescu tried hard to tell Dragos and Mihai that he was their father. He was afraid of the consequences of such a revelation. He didn’t meet the boys, just talked to them on the phone, several times. He missed Iulia so much that he created an almost mystical image of her in his imagination.

      At last, one evening he decided to take the train to Bucharest the following day, find the boys and tell them the truth. He went to bed happily but didn’t come to take the early train because he died overnight. As if Iulia had sent him a last message in a dreamless sleep.