TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Carmen-Francesca Banciu

their fate. I owned a pet again and again. And somehow it always ended in a catastrophe. My pigeon drowned in an oil tank in our courtyard. The rabbit wound up in the frying pan. The squirrels ate homemade soap. My beloved tomcat speared his testicles on a barbed wire fence. The fish. Their whitish fat bellies faced upwards. The smell of death lay over my childhood.

Piano. English. Violin.

Sometimes I stole time for myself. Forgot the piano lesson. I went down the Mureș to go fishing with the other children. I knew what a grave sin this was and what consequences would await me. The reddish swollen marks on the cheeks. The dark blue streaks on my bottom. I could already guess Mother’s reaction. Nevertheless I took a chance again and again. Lyingwas oneof those things. I really couldn’t afford it. Whenever Mother asked what I had done all day long, I could leave some things out by just not mentioning it. But if she asked me specifically, if and when, then I had to admit to everything. And bring the strap. I rebelled in my own way. And brought the strap. Gave it to her without hesitating. Mother tightened the strap. Struck with an ever-increasing fury. You are not even crying. No. I didn’t cry. I knew that crying was a sign of weakness. Sometimes I stole time for myself. My parents worked a lot, were seldom at home. Father least of all. They gave me chores. One of them was to work very hard at school. I was expected to be the best and to win the first prize every year.

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