Diriga and the other teachers were a light, they restored me and I completely forgot about the fact that I was almost a dog.
Precisely why, very soon after, I flinched and remained motionless, because my folks casually mentioned in the kitchen that the master never finished his villa. He had very little left to do on it, but he didn't finish it. He developed a rapidly invasive liver cancer and died. I kept quiet and turned on my heels without breathing, so no one would know I was there. I didn't ask any further questions about the subject. Like an intelligent criminal who doesn't give himself away.
Thirty years have passed since finishing high school in '96. I hid my crime under false smiles in society, until Facebook appeared and we found each other after a group photo where I initially tagged only one person, my friend Anda from England. By evening, Ignat, and Pântea, and Grosu, and Bilaus had also been tagged. And Lazarovici, and Lupașcu, and Băsu, and Bobu, and Boca. And Opincaru, and Solcan, and Murariu. And Zaharia, and Covătaru, and Vlad, and Purice. And Ungureanu, and Ilade, and Pintilie, and Iacob, and Câmpan, and Pupăză. And Colțuneac, and Bobârnac, and Sofian, and Mihăluță. And finally Codrin, tagged by Dana, whom he had married. And virtual hugs began, congratulations on how beautiful our children are, and how brilliant and international our careers are.
Sometimes, private discussions slid towards opening and closing wounds. And, when someone managed to let more slip, I perplexedly learned that there had been more criminals among us. That almost all of us had wanted him dead and that it had been done. Dana says about Codrin that he has such big problems in such diverse areas related to the traumas with the beatings, mathematics, and the uncle whose villa ended up completely in the cauldron, that the messenger server wouldn't be able to handle him confessing them to me. And that, on top of that, the boy, now a father, also carries the pang of guilt that he prayed for this one to die and he died.
I never confessed that I managed to strangle an empty-headed man.
(to be continued)
Cosmina Dragomir
Photography by Noemia Prada
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