Part 12 (1/2)
”That doesn't mean a thing.”
”Doesn't mean a thing?” he repeated. ”You want to write about my life. Didn't it bother you?”
”Not at all,” I lied. ”The book will be terrific, everybody wants to read it. Besides which, you yourself predicted it all: First one's unknown, then one's famous, then one's forgotten again.”
”I said that?”
”Absolutely. And Dominik Silva says . . .”
”Don't know him.”
”Dominik!”
”Never met him.”
”You're not going to tell me . . .”
He snapped off the light and removed his gla.s.ses. His eyes were closed. ”When I say I've never met someone, then I mean exactly that. I don't know him. Believe me!”
I didn't reply.
”Do you believe me?” It seemed to be important to him.
”Yes,” I said quietly. ”Of course I do.” And all of a sudden I really did believe it, I was ready to believe anything he said, it didn't matter. It didn't even matter when the book came out. I just wanted to sleep. And I didn't want him to die.
XI.
I WAS WALKING WAS WALKING down the street. Kaminski wasn't with me, but he was somewhere close and I had to hurry. More and more people were coming toward me. I stumbled, fell to the ground, tried to get up again, couldn't: my body was getting heavier, its weight trapped me there, legs brushed past me, a shoe trod on my hand, but didn't hurt, I used all my strength to stop the ground from crowding against me-then I woke up. It was four-thirty in the morning, I recognized the outlines of the cupboard and the table, the dark window, Elke's bed next to mine, empty. down the street. Kaminski wasn't with me, but he was somewhere close and I had to hurry. More and more people were coming toward me. I stumbled, fell to the ground, tried to get up again, couldn't: my body was getting heavier, its weight trapped me there, legs brushed past me, a shoe trod on my hand, but didn't hurt, I used all my strength to stop the ground from crowding against me-then I woke up. It was four-thirty in the morning, I recognized the outlines of the cupboard and the table, the dark window, Elke's bed next to mine, empty.
I pushed back the covers, got up, felt the carpet under my naked feet. A noise of shuffling feet came out of the cupboard. I opened it. Kaminski was sitting inside, huddled up, his chin on his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs, and he looked at me with bright eyes. He wanted to speak, but with his first words the room dissolved; I felt the weight of the covers on me. A sour taste in my mouth, a dull feeling, headache. Cupboard, table, window, empty bed. Ten past five. I cleared my throat, my voice sounded strange, I got up. I felt the carpet under my feet and looked, s.h.i.+vering, at the checks on my pajamas in the mirror. I went to the door, turned the key, and opened it. ”And I thought you'd never ask!” said Manz. ”Now do you know?” Jana came into the room behind him. What was I supposed to know? ”Oh,” said Manz, ”stop pretending you're so dumb!” Jana pensively wound a strand of hair around her forefinger. ”Waste,” said Manz cheerfully, ”all folly and waste, my dear.” He pulled out a handkerchief, waved at me in an affected way, and laughed so loudly that I woke up. Window, cupboard, table, the empty bed, the tangled covers, my pillows were on the floor, I had a headache. I got up. As I felt the carpet under my feet, I was overcome by such a sense of unreality that I reached for the bedpost, but in one swift movement it eluded my grasp. This time I knew it was a dream. I went to the window and pulled up the blind: the sun was s.h.i.+ning, people were walking through the park, cars drove by, it was shortly after ten, and no dream. I went out into the hall. It smelled of coffee, and I could hear voices in the kitchen.
”Is that you, Zollner?” Kaminski was sitting at the kitchen table in his dressing gown, wearing his dark gla.s.ses. In front of him were orange juice, muesli, a bowl of fruit, jam, a basket of fresh baked things, and a steaming coffee cup. Sitting opposite him was Elke.
”You're back?” I said a little uncertainly.
She didn't reply. She was wearing an elegantly tailored suit, and she had a new haircut-shorter, leaving the ears free, softly curling in the nape of her neck. She looked great.
”Horrible dream!” said Kaminski. ”A tiny s.p.a.ce, no air, and I was locked in, I thought it must be a coffin, but then I realized there were clothes hanging above me and I wanted to paint, but I didn't have any paper. Can you imagine that I dream every night about painting?”
Elke leaned forward and stroked his arm. A childlike smile lit up his face. She threw me a brief glance.
”You've met already!” I said.
”You were also there, Zollner, but that part I don't remember.”
Elke poured him more coffee, I pulled up a chair and sat down. ”I didn't expect you back so early.” I touched her shoulder. ”How was your trip?”
She stood up and went out of the room.
”Doesn't look good,” said Kaminski.
”Just wait,” I said, and went after her.
I caught up with her in the hall, and we went into the living room.
”You had no right to come here!”
”I was in a tough spot. You weren't there, and . . . anyhow, a lot of people would be delighted if I brought them Manuel Kaminski.”
”Then you should have brought him to one of them!”
”Elke,” I said, reaching for her shoulder, and moving close to her. She looked different, younger, something had happened with her. She glanced up, eyes glistening, a strand of hair fell down over her brow and caught itself in the corner of her mouth. ”Let's just forget it!” I said softly. ”It's me, Sebastian.”
”If you want to seduce me, you should shave. You shouldn't be in your pajamas, and just maybe you shouldn't be sitting beside Rubens waiting to bring him back to the love of his youth.”
”Where do you get that from?”
She pushed my arm away. ”From him.”
”He doesn't talk about it!”
”Maybe not with you. I got the impression he talks about nothing else. I don't suppose you've noticed, but he's really worked up.” She looked at me sharply. ”And besides, what kind of an idea is this?”
”It gave me the chance to be alone with him. And I needed the scene for the beginning of the book. Or maybe the end, I have to think about that. That's how I get to know what really happened.” For the first time, it felt good to talk to her. ”I would never have thought it's so hard. Everyone says something different, almost everything is forgotten, and they all contradict one another. How am I supposed to find out things?”
”Maybe you shouldn't.”
”Nothing fits together. He's completely different from the way he was described to me.”
”Because he's old, Sebastian.”
I rubbed my eyebrows. ”You said I still had a chance. What did you mean?”
”Ask him.”
”Why him? He's totally senile.”
”If that's what you think.” She turned away.
”Elke, does it really have to end this way?”
”Yes it does. And it's not tragic, it's not terrible, it's not even sad. Excuse me, I'd like to have broken it to you some easier way. But then I'd never have gotten you out of here.”
”That's your last word?”
”I gave you my last word on the telephone. This is simply superfluous. Order a taxi and go to the station. I'll come back in an hour and I would like the apartment to be empty.”
”Elke . . .”