Part 14 (2/2)
”He has no late work.”
”Right,” she said, as if this had just occurred to her. ”Then it's going to be a thin book.”
I forced myself to breathe calmly. I looked into the car: Kaminski's jaws were working, his hands clasped the stick. ”Where are you going now?” My voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way away.
”I'm looking for a hotel,” she said. ”He's . . .”
”Missed his midday nap.”
She nodded. ”And tomorrow we're driving back. I'll return the car, then we'll take the train. He . . .”
”Doesn't fly.”
She smiled. As I looked back at her, I realized that she envied Therese. That she had never lived a life apart from him, that she too had no history. Just like me. ”His medicines are in the glove compartment.”
”What happened to you?” she asked. ”You look different.”
”Different?”
She nodded.
”May I say good-bye to him?”
She stepped back and leaned against the fence. I opened the driver's door. My knees still felt weak, it was good to sit in the car. I closed the door so that she couldn't hear us.
”I want to go to the sea,” said Kaminski.
”You talked to Bahring.”
”Is that what he's called?”
”You didn't tell me.”
”A friendly young man. Very cultivated. Is it important?”
I nodded.
”I want to go to the sea.”
”I wanted to say good-bye to you.”
”You're not coming with us?”
”I don't think so.”
”This will surprise you. But I like you.”
I didn't know what to say. It really did surprise me.
”Do you still have the car key?”
”Why?”
His face crumpled, and his nose looked very thin and sharply drawn. ”She won't take me to the water.”
”And?”
”I've never been to the sea.”
”Impossible.”
”Never happened when I was a child. Later it didn't interest me. In Nice all I wanted to see was Matisse. I thought I had plenty of time. Now she won't take me. It's my punishment.”
I looked over at Miriam. She was leaning on the fence and watching us impatiently. Carefully I pulled the key out of my pocket.
”Are you sure?” I asked.
He nodded. I pushed the ”lock” b.u.t.ton and all four doors closed themselves with a click. I stuck the key in the ignition and started the engine. Miriam leapt forward and grabbed for the door handle. As we moved forward, she rattled it, as I accelerated she slammed her fist against the window, her lips formed a word I couldn't understand, she ran with us for a few steps, then I could see her in the rear-view mirror, standing there as she let her arms fall and watched us go.
”Move it!” said Kaminski.
The street stretched away, the houses slid past us, already we'd reached the end of the village. Meadows opened up. We were in open country.
”She knows where we're headed,” said Kaminski. ”She'll get a taxi and follow us.”
”Why didn't you say anything about Bahring?”
”It was only about Paris and poor Richard. You get everything else. Surely that's enough.”
”No, it's not.”
The street headed into a long curve, and in the distance I could see the artificial sweep of a dike.
”Well, you're just going to have to write about someone else,” said Kaminski, looking unmoved. ”Pity about your big closing scene.”
”Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” I said. ”Bruno and Uwe. Mr. Holm and his herbal products.”
”And that sunrise.”
He laughed and against my will I laughed too. I replayed it in my head: the living room, the carpets, Holm's chitchat, the old woman's face, the painting in the hall.
I hit the brake, almost choking the engine. ”Just a moment. How do you know?”
”About what?”
”You understood me. How did you know about the picture?”
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