The following is a short story found in Mario Azzopardi's antology of stories for adolescents, Alicia Titkellem mill-Imwiet (Alicia speaks from the Underworld).  The book was published by Merlin Library in Malta (chris@merlinlibrary.com) and the story was translated by Patricia Gatt, who is doing post-graduate studies on Azzopardi's literary works. 

 

Translated by Patricia Gatt

 

 I’m only talking with my mouth.

Pretty normal. Everyone talks with their mouth.

But my mouth is detached from the rest of my body, somewhere on the pillow.

What I mean is, I don’t know where my face is. I try to touch it but it’s not there.

All I know is my mouth is spewing off from the pillow.

And another thing. My mouth no longer has any teeth or lips.

 

And my eyes are warped. There can’t be any other way, ‘cos they’re on the bedside table.

An eye on each bedside table.

 

Don’t have any toes on my feet, but that’s only temporary.

I know that Sigismondo borrowed them.

About a week ago he sucked them until he pulled them out one by one.

First he held them in his mouth and then he put them away in an embroidered handkerchief.

“Your toes have such a lovely smell,” he had told me.

He would take them for a while, he said. He borrowed them to return them back more beautiful, smeared in perfume from a distant land. From India, if I remember well. And he will fashion a set of satin nails for me.

 

Mr. Sigismondo would like to give me everything, even though he hardly has enough to get by. He wouldn’t have asked me for water otherwise.

But Mr. Sigismondo didn’t say my mouth would start talking separately, and my eyes would be squinting, from atop the bedside tables. When he kissed my eyes this week, and twirled his long fingers in my mouth, he didn’t say he would also borrow my face, neck and breasts. About my toes I know.

 

I also know about my belly-button.

He said he would borrow it when he kissed me yesterday, just before he slunk out of the back door, as usual. He said:

“Your belly-button’s cute Sefora. Your navel’s really gorgeous. It’s so awesome, I’ll take it and cover it in a rare jewel.”

He mentioned difficult names of precious stones: sapphire, topaz, amethyst, emerald and others I’ve forgotten.

“Which one do you want?” he asked.

His eyes were somewhat glazed as if with raindrops and then he kept on kissing me on my belly.

“I’m no expert in precious stones,” I replied, lying supine. “I don’t know about such things, Mr. Sigismondo. It’s up to you. But don’t spend money on me…”

“No, no. I’d draw presents down from the clouds for you.”

“Is that possible, Mr, Sigismondo?”

“Everything’s possible for a beauty like yourself. As long as you don’t tell anyone. It’s really important no one gets to know. Everything’s to remain secret between us.”

 

And he left with my belly-button.

And now I’m getting confused. Don’t know where I stand.  I’ve never been so messed up. Never felt so lost. My mouth’s here, my eyes are there, don’t know where my toes have wandered off, my navel’s on loan. My body’s no longer my own. My body’s disconnected from itself.

 

This has never happened before.

One way or another I’m gonna come undone. Grandma will come home and she’ll discover everything. She’ll realize I’ve let somebody in. She’ll find out I let Mr. Sigismondo in. She’s always warning me not to let anyone in. She won’t believe me if I tell her I took pity on him ‘cos he was weepy and wanted me to caress his hair ‘cos he’s all alone. He hasn’t even got a cat or a dog.

 

For the last month or so it was me who took care of him. And he was happy to caress and cover me and feel my body tremble slightly when he touches me. I remember he had lain me down on his lap and swirled his fingers in my mouth and then he started panting on my belly.

 

Pause

 

Let’s pause for a sec. Let me start at the beginning, perhaps you’ll get a clue. ‘Cos I think those of you reading my story are pretty stumped, right?

You could be saying: Is she wacky? Is she off her head? And who’s this Mr. Sigismondo?

Where did he show up from?

Let me go back a little bit.

But I need to be quick ‘cos Nan will soon be home.

 

First things first. My name’s Sefora.

Nan found me in the luck dip.

Don’t laugh, it’s true.

She’d been to the fairground, where there were lots of clowns walking on stilts, one storey high, and lots of other buffoons dressed up as frogs, in all existing colours. And one of the jesters gave Nan a number that could only be seen if she warmed it up between her breasts.

            The leading clown told her the number was special. Take care you don’t lose it, he told her, ‘cos that number brings you luck.

Then they drew the lottery and Grandma won, with the number the clown had drawn up for her, and which she’d kept warm between her breasts. Nan still remembers it accurately:

 

                                                13579531(M)

 

“They gave me you as a gift,” Nan tells me. “You were in a package wrapped in silver paper, and I took you home.”

“And Mum and Dad?”

“The clown said they’re in a valley full of trees, flowers, mysterious ladybirds and humming water, and one day you’ll meet them.”

“Until then, I’ll keep taking care of you,” Nan always tells me.

 

Another Pause

 

Dear readers,

Give me your attention for a while, please.

Nan isn’t an old woman. Far from it!

She’s still lively, with her wide, green eyes, and hair, brown, flecked with white, brushing her shoulders. She goes out to work everyday and comes home late in the evening. Poor granny, she has to walk a lot, and go to a large warehouse to sew fancy dress costumes for the carnival that takes place in the square. She sews costumes of noble persons, Harlequin and other comics, Knights, Dames and even scary skeletons.

“When I’m not here and you get home from school, see that you don’t talk to anyone or let anyone in. There could be a wolf who’ll gobble you up!”

Really, Nan’s one of a kind!

A wolf would swallow me up!

Don’t know where Nan comes up with such things!

 

So, to go on. About a month ago I met this solitary man.

Don’t know where he appeared from, but there he was, standing all alone by the side of the street. Dressed in a straight, tall hat and a long, black tail-coat, of faded velvet.

As I approached our house, I had already secretly felt him eyeing me up.

Don’t know how old he is, but I think he’s much younger than Nan. His hair is thick, he has a deep and dark look in his eyes and a somewhat broken voice.

“Will you give me a glass of water, young lady?”

 

At first I thought I’d ignore him. I had never seen him before. But I felt sorry for him. I took pity on him and said I’d draw him a glass of fresh water from the well and I’d fill up a bottle to take along the way. Told him to wait a moment and that I wouldn’t take long.

 

But he just followed me indoors.

“This is a lovely home. It’s really lovely. Peaceful, cut off from everyone. How many of you live here, Miss?”

“My Nan and me, just the two of us.”

“And where’s Nan?”

“Nan works in a warehouse, quite far from here, and she gets home late in the evening.”

“Thanks so much, I was so thirsty. The sun dries me up.”

“Rest a bit,” I said. “Let me get you more water.”

 

And the stranger said his name was Sigismondo.

 

He told me he was all alone in life, but he doesn’t mind, ‘cos he’s friends with the moon and the stars and he understands what birds and fish say and he listens to stones talking, recounting very ancient tales.

“I’m a flower expert. Had I known I’d be meeting you and that you’d give me to drink, I would’ve brought you flower perfume in a bottle. I might drop by with it another time.”

“Oh, don’t go to so much hassle, Mr.Sigismondo.”

“It’s no bother. I have to thank you with something for being so kind-hearted.”

“Mr. Sigismondo, are you hungry? Would you like me to prepare some bread with honey for you to take along the way?”

Roughly three days later I met Mr. Sigismondo at the same place, and he was thirsty again.

And I gave him food and drink. And he narrated what the birds, fish and stones say.

“Nan won’t be pleased if I tell her that I let you come in. If you meet her, don’t let on about this, Mr. Sigismondo.”

“Don’t get upset about it, this is our great secret, yes?

 

And when he saw me again, he brought me a small jug with a cork stopper and in it there was essence of such a perfume that I saw the ceiling slide open, and the sky appeared, changing colour and the clouds came out, and peeping through the clouds there were birds with red beaks, wearing golden coloured masks, and the sky started changing colour, from light blue to dark red, to purple.

And Mr. Sigismondo had a soft voice and he started caressing my hair till I felt drowsy and put my head on his chest and heard the secrets of his heart, the secrets the birds, fish and stones narrated to him.

And his wide-eyed stare wanted to see me get drowsy with the perfume.

And his big mouth wanted to tell me everything.

And his ears were also big, to listen to what the birds and fish are telling him, and what the stones are telling him.

 

Then as if coming from far away, there was Nan’s voice.

“Sefora! Sefora! What’s up sweetheart? Are you ill?”

I hadn’t even realized that Nan had got back from work. Mr. Sigismondo wasn’t there. He had left and I hadn’t heard him leave.

“Nothing Nan, I was a bit tired and dozed off.”

“Thought you were rambling. You were saying you could see masked birds, with their faces peering from behind purple clouds!”

“Then I was surely dreaming, Nan!”

“You kept saying you were swimming with the fish, that you were following them into a cave, the colour of silver. And you started breathing quickly and it’s as if you were trembling and I started getting worried.”

“Then I was surely dreaming,” I heard myself telling Nan once more.

 

Anyway, after that day, Sigismondo (he had asked me to stop calling him Mister Sigismondo) would come and visit me everyday.

 

Don’t know whether I should tell him not to visit me anymore. He always came with a new perfume, wearing a flower in his lapel, sometimes white, yellow, or red.

 

He said that what he brought me were special perfumes nobody knew how to blend. He said I wore them well, that I’m beautiful and that I reminded him of a music concert. And that my body, from my neck to my hips, my thighs and legs reminded him of a piano. And he wished to play the piano. And he would run his tapered fingers all over my body. And I almost wanted him to and didn’t, ‘cos his breath was fierce, and his eyes would change colour and turn weird.

 

But the perfume made me sleepy and when he touched me I’d feel swathed in enormous wings, and my body would be warm and hot, then cold and sweaty.

 

And Sigismondo looks into my eyes and his fingers trace my lips, parting them and finding my tongue. He tells me my mouth is a hall of carmine damask, and my teeth chairs of ivory.

 

And once he started playing with my toes, sucking them and said he would borrow them to fit them with nails covered in satin.

 

And I didn’t have any toes, but he said he would return them soon.

 

And he said he would borrow my breasts to create two lamps to go with the moon’s glare.

 

And he borrowed my navel, to cover in a precious stone: a topaz, an amethyst or an emerald.

And today my mouth is severed and solitary. It speaks separately, away from my face.

 

And my eyes are cross-eyed, one on each bedside table.

 

And my body smells of candle wax and it doesn’t have any bones on which to stand.

 

And my body smells of chrysanthemums that can’t take the blazing sun.

 

My body’s like a sponge

without eyes,

without lips,

without a mouth

without breasts

without a navel,

without toes.

 

Mr. Sigismondo has borrowed everything.

 

As he pressed against me with his enormous wings, wetting me with steam and the essence that makes you dizzy.

 

And I don’t know where he took everything. Don’t know which birds or fish he’s showing my lips to, or between which stones he’s hiding my fingers.

Don’t know where he’s hung my breasts.

Don’t even know if he’s coming back.

‘Cos he hardly has anything left to borrow.

I only know that now there’s a pool of tears on each bedside table.

And from my toes ten insects with huge, pear-shaped heads are sprouting.

And in my chest two cavities, stinking of stale milk.

And from my belly oozes a long stream of blood.

And my mouth’s a solitary jaw, without lips and without teeth, trying to tell what happened to me.

 

And Nan will soon get back from work, from the warehouse where she sews carnival costumes.

 

 

ENDS