When Everything Ends

By Romeo Suhan

This novel is an opportunity to see a world full of prejudice and ignorance through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old. Many of the facts are real, but for personal reasons, the author has used fictitious names and places.
The story takes place in Romania during the communist period, and most of the situations reflect a dark side of the underground life which the totalitarian regime of that time tried to hide.
The author discovered a thread of events that he followed, driven by curiosity, and then he tried, through the naivety of his age, to depict it in a mature and dramatic way.
Beyond the psychological exaggerations of the author, you will discover a bygone world of human ignorance and indifference in an outmoded and morally rotten society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481768665

Romeo Suhan

The author grew up in an environment poor in feelings and experiences, as was expected for a communist society. He became a teenager imprisoned in complexity. In his loneliness, he discovered literature and found a way to satisfy his desires to think and feel. These experiences would later perfect his character and, by default, his literary tendencies. Although the novel is based on actual events, the author modified the events in the characters’ lives. There is such a range of experiences, many of them complex and twisted, that the author lived through during adolescence, when he wrote the novel. The author was born and raised in the capital of Romania, and he grew up in a modest family and society, as did all under communism. He continued to have a modest life until after adolescence when, after being releases from the constraints of communism, he rediscovered himself in a free society in which he could discard the sadness he had repressed.

Book preview

Prologue

Life is like a game of dominoes. You struggle to build your life, piece by piece, and then from a single mistake, pieces fall one by one. No matter how much you struggle to stop it, you end up watching helplessly as it collapses behind you. If you hit an important piece, you are forced to watch as it crumbles. Some call this experience fate, but I call it helplessness.

—I do not know why, but I think something is going on with me. I feel hollow, without an identity. I feel trapped in an abstract vacuum without borders.

I feel nothing, no emotion, as I float in a universe where nothing matters, including time.

It’s a huge nothing, yet there’s a paradoxical peace: brutal yet sensitive, petty yet pure, demonic yet mystical… incomprehensible.

I want to wake up, but I’m afraid of this painful silence. I’m afraid that I could not bear to see this unknown, primary emotion that presses upon my tired soul.

I want to open my eyes, but I’m afraid that I will not see anything and the oppressive silence would push me further towards darkness. I’m afraid of this unknowable paradox, but at the same time, I’m curious.

I finally open my eyes, forcing my eyelids to leave room for exterior images like a faulty curtain lifting.

An aggressive whiteness floods my eyes. For a few seconds, I am dismayed by the perfection that surrounds me in an immaculate expression of purity.

Then I draw a logical conclusion: I died and went to heaven. But I do not know how, why, or when. I do not remember anything. It’s like I came from nowhere and went to this place without knowing how.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, a large space opens to an excessively lit chamber containing a long table, ten chairs, and a person standing up as if waiting for me to sit.

I wobble over to the table, sit down, and wait curiously for a discussion. I am happy to see that the person in front of me is my father, dressed in a white suit and waiting for me with peace and joy in his eyes.

Sebastian paused, as if coming out of the trance of the narration. He looked up at me appearing troubled but with a strange calm in his voice. He said:

—Did you know I never got to know him? He died when I was very young, but I felt him around me all the time. I had the feeling that I really knew him, as he wasn’t missing from my life even for a day.

A tear dropped right before he added:

—It was very strange feeling. You can’t understand it…

Then, suddenly, he continued the soliloquy of the dream:

—Obviously, I died and went to heaven, and my father is waiting for me there.

He sits next to me and takes my hands in his, which are oddly delicate. A strong, strange feeling floods my soul. With a gentle voice, my old father speaks to me for the first time:

—This is the first day of your new existence. The life you lived before was training. If you are sufficiently prepared, you will stay with us; if not, you will return to find other answers.

I am shocked by the fact that my father’s voice seems so familiar. As if reading my thoughts, the old man continues.

—You’ll learn to use your intelligence differently. At this point, my voice is familiar to you because I want it to be. I passed the reflex period of life. Like you, I failed lamentably in my first life experience, but I learned many lessons. Everybody fails in this period, but the lessons give you better answers for your doubts and fears and because failure is the main source of learning.

I watch my father with disturbed fascination. He’s lofty like I always figured he would be. I never wanted to believe what people said about him. I always thought that was a strong man even though his death, or the gesture with which he entered death, was a sign of weakness. I want to say something, but I realize this would waste words. I can see in his eyes that he’s reading my thoughts.

He releases my hands and with a more serious look, he says:

—Depending on your answer to the question I ask, we will know if you’re ready to go beyond.

Life is like a game of dominoes. You struggle to build your life, piece by piece, and then from a single mistake, pieces fall one by one. No matter how much you struggle to stop it, you end up watching helplessly as it collapses behind you. If you hit an important piece, you are forced to watch as it crumbles. Some call this experience fate, but I call it helplessness.

So, do you know which piece has caused your life to begin collapsing?

Sebastian paused from telling the story for a moment and then continued by saying:

—Then, I think I hesitate. I hardly have any time to think. He probably feels my reluctance, because suddenly everything is steeped in darkness. On the other side of the room, a dim light shines like from the abyss. The light grows stronger, and with it, some voices drift through the air.

In an instant, everything becomes crystal clear.

For the first time that evening, Sebastian looked at me insistently, giving me the impression that we will start a dialogue. He said:

It was a very strange thing. Next thing I knew, I was on the hospital bed after two days in a coma. But, you know something? I never thought of that meeting with my father as a dream. It was as real as we are right now, standing at this table and chatting.

—You came back for more answers… , I found myself, concluding.

—Only one answer.

—Which piece from the domino yielded?

—Yeah! That is the question.

—And the answer?, I asked him, eager to find out.

Sebastian gave me a wide smile while conceiving a plan.

—Here’s the deal. If you have time to listen, I’ll tell you the story of my life, and you can find the answer.

I accepted, and so I was going to live a significant life experience which I will always treasure.

Chapter 1

Why?

Here is the question that haunts us for our whole life and gives us few answers.

It was late in the evening. George sat near the gate, on a stone. He looked at the sky, praying that his wife would give birth to a healthy baby and that her delivery would be without problems. Old Veta was a renowned midwife throughout the village; therefore, there was no reason George should have negative thoughts. Still, about three weeks ago, a woman had died in Veta’s arms right after the baby was delivered. The poor woman’s heart couldn’t hold out after the seventh baby. The infant was saved. The old midwife didn’t have too many problems of this kind, and because most of the women from the village passed through her hands, the rare cases of death gave her an aura of unfailing power.

George also put his hopes on the old woman’s experience, even though he had thought of taking his wife to the hospital. His acquaintances won this battle. Everybody told him to let his wife deliver in her own house. After all, giving birth is a natural thing, and if it is her fate to have something happen to her, it is better that she is at home with her family at her bedside.

The elders were upset by his wish, and they scolded him severely. In their ignorance, they discredited the importance of doctors and hospitals.

George was upset by the matter. He pondered it for a while, and he saw something he was uncertain about in the reasoning of the others. He was tormented by thought for a while, but in the end, the others convinced him. After all, he thought, perhaps it is better that she should give birth in her own house. Thus, he dropped the quandary.

George snapped out of his thoughts when a nervous trembling took hold of his whole being. It was cold for a summer evening, but the shivers which overcame him unexpectedly were caused by emotion. The emptiness in his chest pressed on his stomach and sent arrows of pain through out his body parts. This vain, womanish habit revolted and tormented him. But no matter how much he tried to repress his humiliating behaviour, he couldn’t fill the void he felt.

Accepting the humiliating circumstance, George stood up and continued to shake. He gazed into the darkness for a while. He could hardly see distant details. Menacing clouds travelled all over the sky, leaving no moonbeams to touch the darkness. The wind sighed sadly, whipping all it met on its way.

It was unfit weather for early August. It had been raining continuously for two days, and the wind had done real damage to the cornfield. The people who trusted God blamed all the terrible circumstances on the sins they had committed, whether intentionally or not. Before supper, when the family gathered together after a tiring day, they prayed that sins would be forgiven and that God would abate His anger from destroying the crops for which they worked with all their strength.

George was not so interested in this. He was scared by the old proverb that says, ‘Bad weather in midsummer brings misfortunes.’ He was afraid that this storm would be bad for him.

It would be unjust if fate proved to be hostile to him, of all people. All his life, he feared God done his best to obey His rules. He was hard-working, highly regarded man without flaws as well as a perfect husband, admired by friends and envied by enemies.

It would be unfair for something bad to happen to the baby. George thought about this aspect. He didn’t worry too much about his wife, knowing that she was in good hands. He thought that, as was often the case, the baby would be born alive or dead depending on God’s will. When birth problems arose, Veta did her best to save the mother; she had a basic rule that a woman is like the earth. If this year isn’t fruitful for various reasons, the next year would certainly bear better fruit. When the baby does not hold on, Veta says knowingly that it was God’s will, and she doesn’t consider herself guilty at all. The young man wouldn’t listen to the words coming from the old midwife’s mouth; instead, he heard the sharp cries of his wife as the baby fought for the right to live.

For three years, he had been waiting for this moment. His wife gave no signs of fertility. After a while, they almost gave up on the idea of having children. Their relationship grew visibly bad, and George started to drink. But then the news that Ana was pregnant solved everything. George became the man he had been before, and their marriage was more special than ever.

In the merciless darkness that night, the strong light of a lightning storm gave the young peasant the creeps; his impressive figure cast a shadow on the concrete wall that surrounded his property. His strong, tall body, which under different circumstances would have shown great self-confidence, was now bent under the load of emotions. His firm features were distorted by an unpleasant expression. George’s wide forehead that revealed his ambition was wrinkled, and his certainty was hidden behind fear-stricken eyes. His normally sharp chin was curving too sweetly for his rough features; his cheekbones, excessively tense, made his eyes sink deeper into their sockets.

He was completely changed, and rightly so. Whole hours passed as Ana painfully tried to give birth to the baby. In the early evening, her shrieks became more frequent and the people around her started to get worried. George couldn’t stand the painful groans any longer, so he went back outside to cool down.

The noisy weather covered any other noises.

A new lightning strike briefly lit his face. The thunder that followed shook the ground. He heard the gate close and looked at it in fear, but he couldn’t see a human figure. It was only the wind. George walked over to take a closer look. At that moment, a new flash of lightning revealed the presence of his father through the bars of the gate, gravely looking at him. His pulse ran quicker. He opened the gate and came closer.

—Ana is well! She will live, George’s father said in a slow voice.

George, stirred by his father’s words, lost control of his emotions. He whispered between sobs:

—Dad, it will be all right! Don’t worry. Next time we’ll make it. Thank God Ana’s all right.

They barely made it through this ordeal, and the wound left behind closed with time, even if it still irritated them from under the surface.

After a year, everything seemed to go back to normal. George restrained his sadness, the other members of the family accepted the idea of a new expectation, and Ana overcame the depressive state she was in after the loss she suffered.

Ana was, in fact, a very strong woman. Full of personality, beautiful, and intelligent, she suddenly became special compared to the other women from the village.

When she married George, many men cried over her. Her beauty had broken many hearts in her teen years; she nevertheless chose George. They spent their childhood together, went to school together, and were close buddies until George left for Bucharest to enter high school and then college.

After several years, he came back home, holding an engineering diploma and looking different. He seemed tougher, prouder, and more handsome than ever to Ana. Without delay, she fell in love with him.

She was twenty-two and the only woman from the village who was single at such an old age. The custom at that time was that a girl of sixteen was of the right age to be married. At that age, Ana didn’t want to marry just because it was the tradition. She turned down many men, thinking of George’s return.

During the years they lived apart from each other, the only thing that kept the flame of their love burning was writing to each other. Their novel-length love letters made future plans and declarations of love, and through this they could feel closer to the day they would meet each other again.

Only two month after George’s return, the news of a big wedding spread through the village. The preparation lasted almost a month, and one October day, their fastidious wedding took place. The people living in the area had never seen something like that before. Almost all the villagers were present either as guests or simple onlookers. The fiddlers of Haradau played—they were the best in the Hertas district—and the officiant was none but the mayor of the village.

After that memorable day, the newlywed couple moved forward on their plans for the future. George suggested that they should move to live to Bucharest, but Ana disagreed. After several discussions, they reached the conclusion that it was better for them to stay in the village they had grown up in and make a home there.

George became the director of one of the silos prevalent in their agricultural area, and Ana opened a dressmaking workshop by the agency of the state; private ownership was forbidden by law. They bought some land and developed a farm.

Everything went well until George wanted a child. With passing time, his wish grew stronger. Ana also wished very much to have children, but she couldn’t succeed in getting pregnant. When she finally got pregnant, they both felt that heaven had bestowed this happiness upon them. The baby was unfortunately born misshapen, and it died after a short while, leaving them barren in and miserable.

After this misfortune, they tried to hope again, but as time passed without any sign, the couple became increasingly sick with pessimism. Their marriage faltered again and became an illusion. One evening, when George couldn’t hold himself together any longer, the definitive break took place.

Coming home drunk, he started to yell at his wife as if he had gone mad; he found reasons for quarrelling in anything. Ana took the pain and said nothing, as she realized why he was striking her in rage. But when he blamed her for the baby’s death, a huge gap appeared between them which could never be filled again.

George apologised next morning, but Ana couldn’t forgive him again. His accusation that she was not fulfilling her purpose as a woman, which hurt her very much.

One week after that quarrel, they separated from each other. Ana returned to her parents, and George remained alone with his pride and disappointment in himself.

A short while after their separation, they had a surprise! Ana was pregnant again. She went to Bucharest to see a good doctor who assured her that she would have a normal delivery. When George heard this, he came back to her on his knees. But Ana had made up her mind: she would never forgive him!

Their families tried to make them reconcile, but Ana was quite determined. She didn’t love George anymore. The things he had told her that evening wiped out the deep love she had felt for him for such a long time as if it were a trace of dust. In a few seconds, her feelings for George turned ice cold; shortly afterwards, they turned into disgust.

George tried to make peace with her for three weeks, but Ana couldn’t stand the sight of him. One day, sick of his insistence, she let him into her room. She wanted to put an end to the situation for good. He was happy, as he thought she was giving in to his efforts.

When he entered the room, the hostile atmosphere deflated his joy. His expression became stiff with emotion as the room brought back some of his most pleasant memories. It was there that he had first declared his love to Ana and where he asked her to marry him. This was probably the reason he felt so heavy.

—Take a seat!

Ana said this in a tone which was much warmer than she felt.

He sat down without hesitation, breathing quickly. He looked at his beloved woman with a strange curiosity which tingled through his limbs.

Was she by any chance the same woman who, not long before, he loved, admired, and knew so well? No, an entirely different woman was in front of him. It was quite strange. Her look froze the blood in his veins, and her once beautiful and honest features were covered by a serious sadness that prevented any expression.

He tried to say something, but it seemed that God had taken away his voice. He sat in his chair, tense and staring downwards.

—I’m waiting! Ana said mercilessly.

He gathered his strength and looked up. Her cold eyes made him shiver, and a sheet of liquid blurred his eyesight. He saw in her eyes that he had lost her forever. That tough conclusion made his emotional balance shatter. He made a feeble effort to control himself, and then he looked for the proper words.

He stood up and looked out of the window as he spoke.

—All my life, I have tried to be a reasonable man, correct all my shortcomings, and not make wrong decisions under any circumstance. In a moment of stupidity I can’t even explain to myself, I managed to ruin everything. I ruined our love and each of our lives. Nothing can possibly make up for this. It was nonsense that totally destroyed the sense of responsibility I had earned. You can’t imagine how disappointed I am in myself.

He was silent for a moment so that he could sort out his thoughts, and then, turning towards Ana, he went on.

—I insisted on talking to you for a selfish reason, I admit. You are the person I have loved the most in this sinful life. I realized that I lost you, but I don’t want you to keep this bad opinion about me. I implore you not to hate me. Despite what I’ve done, I love you desperately. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but never doubt the love I feel for you.

He stopped and tried to make out the expression on her face. He was astonished by the effect his words had on her. His sadness was joined by a strong shade of regret, and hot tears sprang from his eyes.

He tried to approach her, but her troubled voice made him stay still.

—I want to remain alone.

Then, entreating him, she added:

—I have to collect my thoughts.

Those words set George on fire again. He hoped from the bottom of his heart and prayed that Ana would forgive him and come back to him, but one evening, a little boy came with a note for him. Ana wrote: ‘Your words, no matter how nice they were, cannot compensate for your wrong deeds. You are welcome to see your child anytime.’ At the bottom of the page, heavy letters said: ‘I’m sorry.’

From that day on, their destinies followed tragic paths. George suffered a psychic breakdown, becoming a human wreck and considered a loser. Ana gave birth to a healthy little boy, but only two years after this happy event, she got ill and died. She was only thirty, and she was the most beautiful and intelligent woman born in that part of the country for several generations.

Almost all of the villagers were present at her funeral, which took place on a frosty January day. The blizzard whipped the frozen branches of the trees, and the milky sky scattered snowflakes. The frozen earth squeaked underfoot, and the glossy snow patches reflected the cold light.

The priest raised his voice a little, so that his words pierced the air that was full of crying and whistling wind. The gravediggers left the coffin uncovered for several minutes so that the people could say their last goodbyes. They passed her dead body one by one, saying words full of regret and shedding tears on the white silk dress the poor woman wished wear when buried.

When the diggers touched the coffin lid to close it, George came out of the crowd. A heavy silence gripped everyone, and their eyes turned in great surprise to look at the sad and suddenly old man. Tears flowed down his cheeks. The diggers let the lid down, waiting for a moment to finish burying the coffin.

After only two years, George was a total wreck. He got drunk and slept in the ditches. When he was sober, he went to see a whore from the village, passing his time with her in whatever form of debauchery possible. At Ana’s death he had a nervous breakdown, and now, with the eyes of a madman, he looked like a corpse rising from the dead.

He trembled as he came closer to the coffin with small footsteps. His desperate appearance made the onlookers feel scared; they remembered him as a proud, strong man. Arriving at the coffin, George bent over Ana and cried noisily. Only one man was courageous enough to come out of the crowd and comfort the unfortunate man. The others were immobile.

After several long minutes, the stranger tried to pull George a short distance from the coffin so that the burial might proceed. However, George was still holding Ana’s dead hand in his palms, and he wouldn’t let go. When the stranger finally managed to open George’s hands, something unbelievable happened. With a few rapid movements, the unhappy creature took a knife out of his pocket and stabbed himself in the stomach. By the time the stranger realized what was happening, George’s eyes rolled upwards.

—Bury me by her side! he said, and then he died with his eyes open in fear and pain.

This tragedy was vividly marked in the memories of the inhabitants of the land. This shocking, unhappy story proves that life is hard even for those who seem to know how to live it. Fate is not concerned with those it strikes hard. Why this is the case has yet to be answered sufficiently.

Humans may be the most fascinating beings that have ever existed. Besides their intelligence, humans are led by their feelings. The soul, this endless ability to feel and coordinate feelings is probably unique among beings in the universe. Nevertheless, an obstacle exists.

Intelligence is a means by which we can express our feelings, but it is not a tool with which we can control them. No matter how perfect our personal background is, there are some things we’ll never know. Thus, our ability to perceive is limited, and our thirst for the absurd is boundless. The questions that arise from this thirst follow us during our whole life, and when we die, we will probably realize how much time we wasted questioning ourselves in vain. But by then it is already too late for regrets.

We experience certain happenings, have certain feelings, and react in different ways, but these pass away, change, or even disappear. We look back and ask ourselves why: why did I do that thing, why didn’t I do it,