City, Sister, Silver, page 31
But then I started to suffer again. I saw that woman. It was love at first sight. Her pale fragile face framed in thick black hair. And every bone in that face! She touched her companion’s elbow gently: Now you may lead me where you will, but only as long as I grant you permission, I may take wing at any moment …
I knew I loved her strides, and the way they made the air swish along the edge of her dress … the way she would fix her little finger, for an imperceptible instant, at some point in space, space which until she entered it merely existed … uncharged … empty and desolate … I could’ve loved that space alone, preserving it in a silver-trimmed ivory case till the end of my time … naturally, though, I’d’ve rather had her. They settled in a few steps away. The native snapped his fingers, and terrifying the waiter with his crude, vulgar voice, forced him to take their ridiculous order. I cleared my throat … she looked at me … I had to lean on the table. I felt extreme psychophysical desire. I glanced in her direction. She was still sitting there. All of a sudden I felt sick. My genes were going crazy. Those tiny little beasts that everyone’s got inside them were regrouping their ranks. My biorhythm began a new chapter of living. I’m a sensitive guy.
But then … I tried to be reasonable. I studied her escort. In times of turmoil it’s best to hone in on the adversary, render him an object of hatred. But he was … I had to admit, a likable guy … tall … after all, my woman wouldn’t spend the evening with just any old bum, that’s obvious, I set my mind at ease … he was dressed normal, didn’t overdo it, shoes, pants, somethin underneath, somethin on top … yeah, he’s alright … an me? All kindsa stuff under my nails, in my hair, yeah right, whores an spittoons … I was a spitboy, a Kanak … but if she could’ve seen through my rumpled warmup jacket into my wild red heart, she would’ve seen herself in there, reflected as if in venetian glass … she didn’t know about my tender, hungry, crooked arms … yet … I scoped the room and ducked under the table, the carpets blurred into a motley jumble … calm quiet colors melting into chaos … I struck out under the tables … cautiously, like a long-tailed monkey … eluding prying eyes … I got in there and listened … back home, on Charles Bridge … she’s some kina hat seller, one of us, I rejoiced, and then suddenly I froze: Sir! She called him sir! Since when does any Kanak woman, daughter of a free people, have a master, I just about lost it … and then I heard: cir, cus … oh I get it! Circus! She’s tellin him bout the Kludskys, from the good old First Republic, they must be pitchin their tent in the Pearl again … great … and then he let loose, speaking Kanak, but in reverse, he was learning her tongue! He loves her, it’s obvious, there’s no other possible reason, I let out a howl, they jumped … but then went on … he was feedin her all this talk about huge tours, unreal concert halls, rabid fans, schedules and stripteases … then I overheard … translatsion, reductsion … and so forth … I gotta remind her what happened to Švanda the Bagpiper,* I realized … sůstaň tady, ztay here, the man told her, you wir mate for sis citty … sis citty iss at yor fit … every city’s gonna be at her feet, but with me, dammit, I mumbled to myself under the table, I’ll arrange it somehow … or maybe just that one city, hers, the city of her mother tongue, that wicked stepmother … just hope she doesn’t have a screw loose, I mean it’d be curtains here for a girl like her … I gotta rescue her somehow, by force if necessary … but not like this, some creepy Kanak under the table, what I gotta do’s I gotta … disguise myself, yeah, an take her by storm … I knew I shouldn’t cause a rift right off the bat, but I couldn’t resist … licked her knee, she slapped him in the face. It worked! I scurried off. That knee tasted good.
I hopped on my bike. Not a minute to lose! Instead of cooling me off, the night air drove me into a frenzy. I’ll kidnap her. An marry her on the spot so she can’t run away. Kopic can fill in for the priest. I flew through Berlun like King Kong himself.
On your feet, Kanaks! I burst into the lair. Quick, everyone, gimme all you got! I gotta get duded up for a rendezvous, amour is here, big coucher avec ma femme, ma princesse, sheez grozz beeyutifull! I dragged some threads out of boxes and the Kanaks out of bed. Berlun’s the capital of bohemianism and hit parades. Subkulchur. It’s gotta work! I went for the alternative look. Kopic had a tie. That’s for the market, he protested. We tugged back and forth till the choker tore in half. I’ll fix it up somehow, where’s the sewing kit. There! You owe me 60 DM, Kopic pouted. I took his blazer, it was the only one we had, he swept in it. Lend me your Pi Beta Kappa hat, I pleaded. But he was pissed off. I took his kids’ ice skating cap, it was a good color. Wait, no, Chiharu, vayk op, help an merci, hilfe! Where’s that chic headgear a hers … she was in the shower … Shimako was eating snakes … they didn’t wanna be disturbed … they were always takin showers or eatin snakes or flyin kites. Chirina! Chirina! In Kanak that means: Hurry! Hurry! But it’s understandable in other tongues too … lend me your mikado … be a sweetie, sweetie, be muta, mutasana san, honto? Daivak! Iamb, dact. Hai? Hai! In the end I wore them down. They laughed pretty hard. But I didn’t care. I took Agent Šiška’s handgun … just to be safe … and he had the perfect suspenders! I put em on right away, my leggings were sagging. Jumped on my bike … shit, no socks or shoes … but off I rode … pedestrians stopped an stared … I called attention to my indigence … picked up a couple cigars an some change, that’ll get me off to a good start … snatched a robe off a clothesline an put it on … took the clothesline too, in case she put up a fight … people gawked … so what, assholes … gawkin at my multiculti garb … the hell with em … I rode like the wind, like a tempest, pedals squeaking … here comes the prince of the Kanaks! Burst into Teppich Bar, there she was! But … everyone was lookin at me … uh-oh, total silence … jaws dropped … an oh boy … maybe … I was bright red … mikado red … an my loved one … my loved one smiled as the others roared with laughter … just smiled … my heart ached … waiters came over, chefs … Have you any maté, mate? I got tangled up in Kanak … I was sweating, dripping, ran outside, the bike was gone. I had to walk, it was awful.
But no, I didn’t give up. I acquainted Kopic with my plan. I’ve discovered the Queen of the Kanaks, I told him. I described her. Told him what she was like! He believed me, why not. We’ll wrap her up in a carpet an drag her back to the lair. I can handle that man a hers, hah. We’ll attack from the roof. Chiharu an Shimako’ll disguise themselves as flower girls an cover for us. Siska’ll iron things out up top if the plan falls through. We’ll take the Dutchmen along for backup in case there’s any screwups. An Deringer’ll be the commander … he’ll scare the wits out of em! Rosie Simonides’ll push a fake baby carriage … Petrák’ll draw up a map, plot out the directions an distances, to head off any mistakes … Everyone was in favor. Except for Chiharu and Shimako … they’d gotten used to our intimate community … didn’t want to get off track … I had to promise them the Queen of the Kanaks would be their slave, that they could put her in their movies … then they gave the nod … promises are sworn, fools are born … we set out … that night, in raincoats, with ladders … but she wasn’t there! Just the carpets … she’d vanished … my love … and I never saw her again, I don’t think.
Enough already, I told myself. Quit thinkin back on your youth, there’s other things, Potok. But … it struck me, if a guy like Jícha can write a book, why not me. Only I’d write mine in Kanak. On the body of a changed world, in the ruins of the former time, I’d open the first glorious chapter of Kanak literature! I’ll write the book in raw post-Babylonian, the way I heard it on my wanderings through the past, present, an future.
Sure … it’s all been written before … but a guy’s gotta try, as my fellow warrior, the worm lover, put it … it’s all been done, it’s all worn out, I’ll have to go round an round … over an over, but that doesn’t matter, no one listens anyway … an the crates full of my book, no, make that stacks of crates, will read: Fragile! Very fragile! Seulement pour Kanaks!
I had visions of moola, piles of loot, from publishing groups, sages an literati, subscribers. I mean everyone speaks it now … I mean we’re all … Kanaks. That was the idea my reminiscing gave me. Silly idea.
14
I SEARCH AN SEARCH, ALL I COME UP WITH IS KNIVES. SPIDER’S RIDDLE. OTHER CLUES. VASIL. JÍCHA . THE WELL AGAIN. LOVED ONE IN WATER.
I looked up and realized I’d reached the part of town where my little sister supposedly lived. I made my way down a few Gypsy streets, the last one with a straw mattress burning on the sidewalk and a group of dusky children hurling mud at one another. I carefully bypassed them. Then came factories. And sparse grass, dust, old fields. More blocks of flats, in rows. Chebků 33 was the address. Once I find the building, I’ll track her down easy enough. It’ll be a pleasure. My hands were cold but not clammy. There was a pounding in my throat. The ground floor of no. 33 was all glass. Office space. A sign announced: RUTHENIAN UNION, CZECHOSLOVAKIA. The last word had a line through it. CZECH, someone had shortened it to. That was also crossed out and scrawled over with: Czech never! And another citizen left the message: Russkies go home! The office was empty. I rang the buzzer. Immediately a woman opened the door. What can I do for you? I described my sister. What’s her name, asked the … office worker. I don’t know. You don’t know your own sister’s name? We’ve been apart a long time. Separated. That might’ve moved her a little. I lived a long time … ajiz … owverseez, I said with a Western accent. Ah. She fell for it. I’m tryin to find my sittle lis … little sister. I’ll tell you what, I don’t know anyone here in the building, she said … but Miss Mariaková matches your description almost perfectly … she helps out here at the Union … You mean she’s your cleaning woman? I asked sympathetically. She wrinkled her eyebrows. Excuse me, she said, but Miss Mariaková has a degree in computer programming, she set up our database … guess it’s not her, I said ruefully. Does she have a little scar on her chin, the Russian lady went on, from falling off her bike? Yes, I blurted. That’s definitely Miss Mariaková then, my informer declared. But she won’t be back for another two weeks. Tat’s teddible, I said. I have to go to Brussels on business. Why don’t you stop over and see Mr. Meždek then? He’s … Mr. Meždek is an architect, he’s the young lady’s gentleman friend … What?! Well, your little sister’s not so little anymore … Mr. Mariak, why she’s all grown up now! So Ruthenians’re Russians, right? I displayed interest. No, she said, bristling slightly. We’re primarily from Subcarpathian Ruthenia. Yep, they’re Russians, I said to myself … the Carpathians, Romanians, Dracula, Ceauçescu, yep … I thought silently. She handed me a piece of paper with an address on the other side of town. All right, thank you very much. We parted the same way we’d met: coolly.
I took the subway and walked through the tubes. Trying to ignore the swarms. Černá a computer programmer, ridiculous, maybe I should’ve taken a pass through the building. I can always go back. Sooolingens! Step right up an get cher Solingens! someone on the platform hollered. They slice, they dice, they chop up chives, Solingen, the sharpest knives! Some old bag was harassing the commuters, a cutting board strapped to her belly, with sliced tomatoes, a few scraps of meat, and something green. A set of blades glinted in her hands. I went over to check if the green stuff was kiwi, still hadn’t seen one of those yet. Turned out it was just a pepper. But the old bag wouldn’t let me go. It’s a miracle, look at that, she flourished a knife before my eyes. For a mere two thou, incredible, wow, tell me what does your sweetheart cut with now? She got me. Go ahead and wrap me up one, mother. Comin up, professor, comin right up! Stuck me with a full set. And keep the change, mother, I told her kindly. A hundred thousand thanks, God bless you, professor! As I stepped on the train, I heard her say: I’m not your mother, you lousy creep! My face flushed a little as the train pulled away. The other passengers smirked. I put on a menacing air. It helped.
Meždek. Photo studio. Whole place reminded me of some dictator’s hospital. Too clean, too white. Death and pain discreetly tucked away, under a pall, off in the corner. Every doormat the same, right down to the last fiber. In the lobby they had a rent-a-cop with a gun. Who’re you here for? Mr. Meždek, I said. Ah, photos, yes? Testing me, like it wasn’t written on the mailbox. How’d you guess, I said saucily, and went in. In front of each door were slippers or shoes, depending who’s home and who isn’t, it hit me. They’re scared of thieves, that’s how come the gorilla downstairs. Somehow I didn’t picture Černá’s fella living in a place like this. I had a feeling she was more the type for places where folks weren’t scared. Assuming I was on the right track. I stood at the door a pretty long time before I heard footsteps. I prefer to play it safe. Something snapped shut, sounded like a fridge. I knocked. It’s amazing how this works. People’re so used to the buzzer that when you knock they usually open up even if they don’t want to be bothered. Just curious what the change is all about. The footsteps inside fell silent. I knocked again, softly but insistently. Confidentially. The door slowly swung open. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Granddad outta some fairy tale. Pink robe, slippers with pompoms. Peering at me, terrified. Deep blue eyes and … pink lips, the guy had on lipstick! His smile drooped when he got a load of me. Some folks don’t like my looks at first. He tried to shut the door, but I strong-armed him and stepped inside. Guy was victimhood incarnate. Every bone in his body begged for mercy. Didn’t start yelling or swearing. Looked more like he knew he might get what he had coming. I chose my tactics accordingly. Where is she, I rasped. Not a word. There was a plea in his silence. Where is she, I said, where’s my sister! Here, I said dramatically, touching my chin, she’s got a scar here. Ah, you mean Maruška, he shed a little tension. His voice was what I’d expected, high and reedy. Tremblin. But Mařenka isn’t here, she only sits for me once in a while. Where do you do it, I roared. Guy got on my nerves. For God’s sake, what … what do you mean … sir … backin away from me, his voice wasn’t the only thing tremblin now. I followed him, still walkin backwards, into the next room … there was a rocking horse in the middle covered with ribbons and bows … pink curtains on the windows, couches around the walls with some stuffed animals, all kindsa dolls, one huge one … a beach ball, I spotted a jump rope … Maruška never told me she had such a big brother, we could have worked something out … she just came here to relax, do her homework, why I never … I’m an old man now … she’s a good little girl … I wouldn’t’ve laid a hand on the old fart, but if he was talkin about Černá, if she was so bad off she hadda come over to this freak’s place to relax …
Don’t lie to me! The police’ll be interested in this studio a yours! I beg you, Mařenka can do whatever she … but I just have to see my little girl, look what I have for her … he ran, actually more like danced, over to the closet … opened it up, look what good care I take of her, I only want the best for her … pulled out a dress, white with red polka dots, luxury stuff, gold stitching … this one is her favorite … a white summer frock with a bolero, he said … I plopped down on the couch with the stuffed animals … this chick couldn’t be Černá … bolero! … looked like the photographer was in his element … we never, don’t think it for a minute, Mr. Brother sir, that’s not my sort of thing, all she did for me was … dance … he dropped his ass down on that heap a glad rags … frocks … I want the pictures, I said … I don’t have any!
I got up and walked towards him. No, really … wait a minute, there’s just this one from Paris … Laurent put it out … he ran across the room, robe fluttering, dug through the papers on his desk, pulled out some fashion mag, flipped through it till he came to the spread, and offered it to me. I yanked the sacred pages out of his hand and went over to the window … two photos of a very young girl … that’s one thing Černá’s not anymore … still there was somethin … maybe the nape of her neck, the face floated in half-light, her legs were bare, I didn’t know what Černá’s ankles looked like yet … one of the pictures showed the girl from the side, and there was somethin about the way she had her arm raised … for an eternity, the way her hand was bent at the wrist … she’s beautiful, so very beautiful, Meždek said standing next to me … it is a mystery, they are the mystery of life, the gateway … Yeah right, we all come outta cunts, I felt like bein mean … and of death … their mystery is on the inside, like their sex, it is invisible … not like ours … I’ll take this, I yanked out the photos and tossed the rest on the floor … ach, he said … I despised him … even if that Mařenka girl wasn’t Černá … takin their pictures, robbin em, babblin on, what’s he wanna go showin em to everybody for, the world the way it is … what if someone decides to kill that girl for bein so beautiful, it can happen … he stood lookin at me, you want to destroy her just like you destroyed that magazine, you aren’t her brother, you just want her for yourself … just then the doorbell rang.
Is it her? I croaked. No, he said hesitantly … I don’t know which of us got to the door first, but I opened it.
A woman stood there as if carved out of stone, holding the hand of a little girl that looked like an angel from one a those paintings of the Holy Virgin. Maybe it was on purpose. Golden hair down to her shoulders. Tiny lips slightly garnished. Standing somewhat defiantly. I guess the way little girls look when you promise them the biggest cake in the world and a pony named Pony to get them to go to the dentist. I’ve had it, the stone woman said. Leaving us out here like that where all the neighbors can peek at us. She swept past me, dragging the girl after her. Meždek shut the door behind me.
