The Death of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee

Author:J. M. Coetzee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2019-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

THERE IS someone at David’s bedside, when he arrives the next day, whom he does not at first recognize: a woman wearing a long dark dress with a collar like a ruff at her throat, her grey hair combed tight against her scalp. Only when he comes closer does he recognize Alma, the third of the three sisters who gave them shelter on their farm when they arrived in Estrella, friendless. So news of David’s illness has spread so far!

From the armchair in the corner a man unfolds himself: señor Arroyo, director of the Academy of Music.

He greets Alma, greets Arroyo.

‘Juan Sebastián told me David has been ill, so I came to see for myself,’ says Alma. ‘I have brought some fruit from the farm. Such a long time since we last saw you, David. We have missed you. You must pay us a visit as soon as you are better.’

‘I am going to die, so I can’t come and visit.’

‘I don’t think you should die, my boy. It will break too many hearts. It will break my heart, and Simón’s, I am sure, and your mother’s, and Juan Sebastián’s, and that will be just the beginning. Besides, don’t you remember the message you told me about, the important message? If you die, you will not be able to deliver it, and none of us will ever hear what the message was. So I think you should put all your energy into getting better.’

‘Simón says I am number one hundred, and number one hundred has to die.’

He, Simón, intervenes. ‘I was talking statistics, David. I was talking percentages. Percentages aren’t real life. You are not going to die, but even if you were to die it would not be because you are number one hundred or number ninety-nine or any other number.’

David ignores him. ‘Simón says, in the next life I can be someone else, I don’t have to be this boy and I don’t have to have a message.’

‘Haven’t you enjoyed being this boy?’

‘No.’

‘If you do not enjoy being this boy, who would you prefer to be, David, in the next life?’

‘I would prefer to be normal.’

‘What a waste that would be!’ She rests a hand on his head. He closes his eyes; his face takes on a look of intense concentration. ‘How I wish that in the next life you and I could meet again and go on with these conversations of ours. But, as you say, in the next life we will probably be someone else. What a pity! Well, it is time to say goodbye, I have a bus to catch. Goodbye, young man. I am certainly not going to forget you, not in this life.’ She kisses him on the forehead, turns to señor Arroyo. ‘Will you play for us now, Juan Sebastián?’

Señor Arroyo brings forth his violin case, briefly tunes his instrument, then begins to play. It is not music that he, Simón, has heard before, but David responds with a smile of pure delight.

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