Untitled Lesson

​“Anything,” said Elya.

“I want you to carry me up the mountain. I want to drink from the stream, and I want you to sing the song to me.”

Elya promised he would.

Madame Zeroni warned that if he failed to do this, he and his descendants would be doomed for all of eternity.

At the time, Elya thought nothing of the curse. He was just a fifteen–year–old kid, and “eternity” didn’t seem much longer than a week from Tuesday. Besides, he liked Madame Zeroni and would be glad to carry her up the mountain. He would have done it right then and there, but he wasn’t yet strong enough.

​Every day Elya carried the little piglet up the mountain and sang to it as it drank from the stream. As the pig grew fatter, Elya grew stronger.

On the day of Myra’s fifteenth birthday, Elya’s pig weighed over fifty stones. Madame Zeroni had told him to carry the pig up the mountain on that day as well, but Elya didn’t want to present himself to Myra smelling like a pig.

Instead, he took a bath. It was his second bath in less than a week.

Then he led the pig to Myra’s.

​Igor Barkov was there with his pig as well.

“These are two of the finest pigs I’ve ever seen,” Myra’s father declared.

He was also impressed with Elya, who seemed to have grown bigger and stronger in the last two months. “I used to think you were a good–for–nothing book reader,” he said. “But I see now you could be an excellent mud wrestler.”

“May I marry your daughter?” Elya boldly asked.

“First, I must weigh the pigs.”

Alas, poor Elya should have carried his pig up the mountain one last time. The two pigs weighed exactly the same.

​Myra’s father got down on his hands and knees and closely examined each pig, tail to snout.

“Those are two of the finest pigs I have ever seen,” he said at last. “How am I to decide? I have only one daughter.”

“Why not let Myra decide?” suggested Elya.

“That’s preposterous!” exclaimed Igor, expelling saliva as he spoke.

“Myra is just an empty–headed girl,” said her father. “How can she possibly decide, when I, her father, can’t?”

“She knows how she feels in her heart,” said Elya.

Myra’s father rubbed his chin. Then he laughed and said, “Why not?” He slapped Elya on the back. “It doesn’t matter to me. A pig is a pig.”

He summoned his daughter.

​​Elya blushed when Myra entered the room. “Good afternoon, Myra,” he said.

She looked at him. “You’re Elya, right?” she asked.

“Myra,” said her father. “Elya and Igor have each offered a pig for your hand in marriage. It doesn’t matter to me. A pig is a pig. So I will let you make the choice. Whom do you wish to marry?”

Myra looked confused. “You want me to decide?”

“That’s right, my blossom,” said her father.

“Gee, I don’t know,” said Myra. “Which pig weighs more?”

“They both weigh the same,” said her father.

“Golly,” said Myra, “I guess I choose Elya — No, Igor. No, Elya. No, Igor. Oh, I know! I’ll think of a number between one and ten. I’ll marry whoever guesses the closest number. Okay, I’m ready.”

“Ten,” guessed Igor.

Elya said nothing.

“Elya?” said Myra. “What number do you guess?”

Elya didn’t pick a number. “Marry Igor,” he muttered. “You can keep my pig as a wedding present.”

​After leaving Myra’s house, Elya wandered aimlessly through the town, until he found himself down by the wharf. He sat on the edge of a pier and stared down into the cold, black water. He could not understand how Myra had trouble deciding between him and Igor. He thought she loved him. Even if she didn’t love him, couldn’t she see what a foul person Igor was?

It was like Madame Zeroni had said. Her head was as empty as a flowerpot.

Some men were gathering on another dock, and he went to see what was going on.

A sign read:

DECK HANDS WANTED

FREE PASSAGE TO AMERICA

​He had no sailing experience, but the ship’s captain signed him aboard. The captain could see that Elya was a man of great strength. Not everybody could carry a full–grown pig up the side of a mountain.

It wasn’t until the ship had cleared the harbor and was heading out across the Atlantic that he suddenly remembered his promise to carry Madame Zeroni up the mountain. He felt terrible.

He wasn’t afraid of the curse. He thought that was a lot of nonsense. He felt bad because he knew Madame Zeroni had wanted to drink from the stream before she died.

​​In America, Elya learned to speak English. He fell in love with a woman named Sarah Miller. She could push a plow, milk a goat, and, most important, think for herself. She and Elya often stayed up half the night talking and laughing together.

Their life was not easy. Elya worked hard, but bad luck seemed to follow him everywhere. He always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He remembered Madame Zeroni telling him that she had a son in America. Elya was forever looking for him. He’d walk up to complete strangers and ask if they knew someone named Zeroni, or had ever heard of anyone named Zeroni.

​No one did. Elya wasn’t sure what he’d do if he ever found Madame Zeroni’s son anyway. Carry him up a mountain and sing the pig lullaby to him?

After his barn was struck by lightning for the third time, he told Sarah about his broken promise to Madame Zeroni. “I’m worse than a pig thief,” he said. “You should leave me and find someone who isn’t cursed.”

“I’m not leaving you,” said Sarah. “But I want you to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” said Elya.

Sarah smiled. “Sing me the pig lullaby.”

He sang it for her.

Her eyes sparkled. “That’s so pretty. What does it mean?”

Elya tried his best to translate it from Latvian into English, but it wasn’t the same. “It rhymes in Latvian,” he told her.

“I could tell,” said Sarah.

​A year later their child was born. Sarah named him Stanley because she noticed that “Stanley” was “Yelnats” spelled backward.

Sarah changed the words of the pig lullaby so that they rhymed, and every night she sang it to little Stanley.

“If only, if only,” the woodpecker sighs,

“The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies.”

While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,

Crying to the moo–oo–oon,

“If only, if only.”