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Dear Diary,
I can’t believe that more than three months have passed.
Yesterday, I received a letter from my mother-in-law from Bled. Since Jakob”s disappearance, she writes to me almost every week, asking if he has returned. She can’t accept that he never will and always forgets to ask about me, although I don”t mind, it”s better that way. Especially since there’s something I haven”t told her yet. Something that will undoubtedly interest her, but it”s not the right time yet.
Since I started working for Mr. Rossi, life has become more bearable. He treats me as an equal, not as an employee. He spends a lot of time away, but when he’s here, he rarely receives visitors. He enjoys reading the newspaper and playing the violin. I wish I knew the melodies he plays. They all sound strange to me, but no less beautiful for it.
We’re both lonely, and we keep each other company. We sit together at the table for dinner every night. He tells me about his childhood in Gorizia. I tell him about Spain and also about the months I worked in the hospital and my first few years here. But I almost never mention Jakob in our conversations. Maybe because Rossi was one of the last people to see him alive, and that still hurts me. Although there may be another reason, one I don”t want to admit, even to myself.
Be that as it may, Enzo is an educated man, and he knows how to keep secrets. We both have them. We also have one in common that no one else knows.
But there was still one that I hadn”t confessed to him yet. A secret that was a time bomb. One that, sooner or later, had to come out.
And a few days ago, it happened.
Enzo never talks about his work as an interpreter or about the war. However, since the fall of Tunisia, I sense how worried he is. Rumor has it that after Tunisia, Sicily will fall. And if Sicily falls, the rest of the occupied territory could fall, too, including Ljubljana. I sometimes fantasize about that possibility and wonder if it will bring about the longed-for end of the war. Some say that the Allies could invade Spain, but Enzo thinks it’s unlikely because the country isn’t directly involved in the conflict. I believe that if the Allies were successful, the fascists would leave here, my country would be liberated, and I could return to my homeland without fear. I could see my sister again. I could start over... even without Jakob.
And that”s the problem, dear diary.
I have a huge dilemma.
A terrible complication.
I realized it a few weeks ago when I was looking for something in my drawers, and I came across my sanitary napkins. The white linens hadn”t been out of the drawer for so long that they were right at the bottom. My breasts had been feeling swollen and sore for days, and the waistband of my skirt was getting tighter. I thought it was because of my new job and all the food I cook for the Italian, which he, in turn, shares with me. I don”t go hungry in this house, it”s true.
For days, I ignored my suspicions, telling myself it was my nerves playing tricks on me. I calculated how long since Jakob was taken away, but I couldn”t figure it out.
Then I remembered Miroslava”s prediction.
In the end, Enzo noticed the change, too.
“When is it due?” he asked me, not without melancholy.
“I don”t know,” I answered, unable to fathom his reaction. “I need to see the doctor.”
“Congratulations,” he murmured, but there was no joy in his words.
That night, he didn’t play the violin.
He hasn’t played it since.