Forever Yours

by Daniel Glattauer

  And then, in her boldness, Judith was struck by an absurd idea, which only a few days before she could never have imagined would enter her head. But the letter had turned everything upside down. She was inspired by the fact that she could even conceive of letting Hannes enter her flat. It showed foolhardiness, it gave her back a proper chunk of self-esteem – something in which she was seriously lacking.

  “My greatest desire, my most fervent wish is that we could become friends,” he had written in his inimitably over-the-top way. Well, that train had already departed, too many unpleasant things had occurred for that. But why shouldn’t she offer this small gesture of reconciliation? Why not demonstrate to her most intimate circle of friends that she was once again capable of escaping from her shadow?

  In just a few days this shadow had shrunk to a manageable size; it was no longer persecuting her, terrifying her, directing her, it wasn’t leading her down the wrong path, to the edge of the abyss. Was she finally cured of her silly little illness or weakness or crisis, or whatever “the worm” was called which had crawled around her mind? She was desperate for proof. And for that she needed him.

  *

  “Hi Hannes, I’ve invited a few friends round for dinner on Saturday. Gerd with his new girlfriend, Lara and Valentin, Roland, and a business colleague, Nina. You can come too if you fancy it.” No, she changed the third sentence of her text message. “Please come if you’ve got nothing else on.” Then: “I’m cooking venison goulash. About 8 o’clock.” (Her friends were invited for seven.) And: “Best wishes, Judith.”

  Not three minutes, but three hours later came the refreshingly short and sober reply: “Hi Judith, how nice. Love to come. See you on Sat at 8. Hannes”

  5

  First, she knew that her pills would not mix happily with alcohol. Second, she knew that she’d drink alcohol that evening (because she’d already started in the afternoon). Third, she didn’t need the pills anymore because she was fearless. Fourth, she’d spent a wonderful late-October Saturday at the Naschmarkt, at Hofer’s department store, at home in her kitchen and on the sofa with headphones, by the light of her laburnum lamp.

  The seven o’clock guests arrived punctually. Romy was a bubbly Columbian tap-dancing teacher whose haircut looked like Diana Ross after a downpour. What made her seem even more exotic was that Gerd was head over heels in love with her; you only saw him like that once every ten or fifteen years. Astonishingly, neither of the other two couples played out any relationship problems, and Nina slotted into the group perfectly. Judith’s friends noticed straightaway that she was in high spirits; these were ideal conditions for her to talk about her “crazy time” in an aloof, self-ironic way. She described in meticulous detail the bedroom scene at four in the morning, when Chris, the beautiful “Roman” fisherman, realised that “someone” had given him a hell of a bite. Nina, especially, couldn’t get enough of the details.

  She didn’t even mention Hannes. She wanted him to surprise them all. He was going to be her trump card, his appearance her triumph. But he was already thirty minutes late and her friends were getting increasingly impatient about the venison goulash. Just before nine he sent her a text: “Dear Judith, I’m sorry, but I just can’t come tonight. Too much work! Another time, though. Please give everyone my regards.” The message was as dry as the cognac she had afterwards.

  She noticed her own gradual decline from the reaction of her friends. Was she alright? “Yes, yes.” Why was she pushing such delicious food around her plate? “I expect I had too many mouthfuls when I cooked it, you know how it is.” Was she really alright? “Yes, of course. Perhaps I’ve just had a bit too much to drink,” she said, knocking back another glass of cognac just to make sure.

  She lasted at the table until the chocolate dessert and tried to laugh at all the right points in the conversation, which she couldn’t help but allow to drift past her in snatches. Afterwards she asked if she might lie down on the sofa; she felt slightly dizzy. “Judith, if you want us to leave, please say!” one of the three male voices said. “No, no, you’ve got to stay,” she insisted. “Stay as long as you can. I’m so happy you’re here!”

  From the sofa she could listen to the reassuring sound of a muffled conversation. Occasionally someone bent over her. Once one of the women sat beside Judith and asked whether she could do anything for her. No, she couldn’t. Later, somebody pulled a blanket over her, lifted her head and let it sink into something cool and soft. Soon after that she heard the shifting of chairs, the clatter of crockery and the gush of washing-up water. Towards the end all she could hear was a faint muttering and a few tired “night”s. The light became dimmer and dimmer before vanishing for good, taking with it the last peaceful noises in the room.

  6

  When she rolled onto her back, she found herself in her bed. Anybody who thought the party was over had underestimated the keenness of her hearing and the sharpness of her mind. She was familiar with the ritual. First the whispering started. Then the metallic sounds echoed around the room and the fanfare resounded. The main guest was here. He had come after all. As if she had known that he would. You could rely on him. He wouldn’t leave her hanging out to dry, not him, never. He’d promised her that.

  It was nice to hear his voice. “Such a scrum, such a scrum, such a scrum.” It’s what he always said at the beginning. It all went back to the beginning. Back then in the supermarket, when he’d trodden on her heel. “It can hurt like hell. It can hurt like hell. It can hurt like hell.” She felt pain. She tried to grab her head, but couldn’t move her hands.

  Stay calm, Judith, and keep lying here. Keep your eyes closed! I’ve brought you something, a present. He’d brought her something, a present. They were sitting around the table, it was dark, it was the middle of the night. The others had gone. Just the two of them, just the two voices, his voice. You have to guess what it is. She had to guess.

  Listen to that! What a sound that was! A familiar sound, she recognised it. You know that sound, don’t you Judith? Are you pleased? She was pleased. The way it played in the wind, the delicate jingling and jangling. Rod against rod, crystal against crystal. Her most valuable piece. From Barcelona. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I hope this isn’t a bad time. I hope this isn’t a bad time.” That was his first visit to her shop. Do you remember? The beginning of the story, the shining light, the rods in the wind, as if shooting stars were inviting each other to dance. The promise made to eternity, our great love. What did it sound like? What light did it give? How does it sound? Can you hear? Louder? Even louder? Brighter? Her head!

  Stay calm, Judith, and keep lying here. Keep your eyes closed! Don’t open them. If you open them you’ll frighten the lights away, you’ll drive away the sound. If you open them you’ll be in the shadow, you will be the shadow. Everything around you dark and silent. Stay. Stay with me. She was to stay with him.

  *

  Her shoulder smashed hard against the edge of the bed. Judith opened her eyes wide. Hannes? Where was he? Shit. Her head! Where was the Spanish crystal chandelier? Who had made it move? Where had those sounds come from? She felt her shoulder. The energy-saving bulbs on the Prague bedroom lamp came on, illuminating this room devoid of people and voices. This silent room.

  Judith felt her way to the sitting room. Hannes? No-one was seated at the table. It had been cleared. Nobody was there anymore. In the kitchen were stacks of washed-up plates and pans. Everything clean. With her wet T-shirt she wiped the sweat from her brow. Her legs were trembling. She staggered to the door of her flat, opened it and turned on the hall light. Nobody, no message, no signal, no dead Herr Schneider, a lifeless stairwell. She bolted the door, hauled herself back into the kitchen, then into the bathroom, bent over the basin, ran cold water over the back of her head, took the towel and rubbed her wet hair.

  Shit. Her head was groaning from the alcohol. She found a strong painkiller, which looked like a small egg-timer, and swallowed it down with a gulp of lukewarm water. Then she
took a second pill – the yellow one – for the worm in her cortex. And a third – the oval one – to prevent the worm from reproducing (if it hadn’t already done so). She wondered whether she ought to call the emergency doctor. But what emergency did she have? A man’s voice had gone missing, as had the sound of a chandelier. No doctor could treat gibberish.

  She gave herself a deadline of daybreak. Going back to sleep was out of the question, so she busied herself instead with useful activity until it got light. She put away the crockery as slowly as she could. She dropped one plate, only one, unfortunately. It took five minutes at most to hunt for, and gather up, the pieces.

  The storm inside her head slowly subsided and the first patches of fog appeared. Judith crept back into the bedroom, opened the massive wardrobe and emptied it with both hands, flinging out its entire contents. Coats, jackets, jumpers, shirts, T-shirts, blouses, trousers, tights and underwear formed a huge pile. Then she began to group her clothes together and put them away again, from top to bottom, piece by piece, crease to crease. After a while Judith’s hands eschewed Judith’s help and carried on alone.

  7

  Some of them watched her from a distance. They stood on the shelf and hung above the chest of drawers. Completely normal photographs from her childhood, you might think, but the frames couldn’t hold them any longer. The one she was staring at now moved right up to her. It had large, sticking-out ears, thick black hair and long eyelashes. Come on, Ali, you could lend me a hand. If we do it together we’ll tidy up the cupboard in no time and then we can go to the cinema.

  What’s that you’re saying? Come closer, I can’t understand you. Please don’t make a face like a wet weekend. You’ve only ever wanted to play hide-and-seek; we’ve been playing it since you were born. Alright then, if it’s light outside we can go to the park. Why don’t you go and put your shoes on? I’ve just got to finish off here quickly.

  Yes, Ali, yes. No need to shout like that, I’m coming. I’m just going to fetch my sunglasses. I’m going to put my hat on. No, Mum, I don’t need a jacket, I won’t catch a chill, I feel hot, no, I’m not going to get ill. Yes, I will look after Ali! Here’s his photo. The nail’s staying there. But Ali’s coming with me. We’re going outside. We just want to play a bit, Mum. We’re in Reithofferpark.

  I put the key in the lock. I open the front door. It’s already light. Stay with me Ali, don’t run ahead. Watch out for other people, don’t bump into them, don’t barge them, they’re cops and robbers but they’re not playing a game, they’re serious. “You leave Ali alone! He’s my little brother! This is his picture.” “Don’t give us such black looks!” “And don’t you dare lay a finger on us! We’re going to the park!”

  At last, there are the trees, the bench is occupied, I lie down on the grass, the fresh air is making me feel a bit dizzy. I mustn’t rush around. Ali, where are you? Are you hiding? Are you playing already? Come here, Ali, I need to rest a while longer. I’ve done too much running, my legs are tired.

  Ali? Ali, come here! It’s not funny. You’re not allowed to hide for so long. It’s not funny anymore. Ali? Ali? Aaaaaaaaliiiiiii? “Excuse me, have you seen my brother, Ali?” “No, I don’t need a jacket, I won’t catch a chill, I’m just feeling a bit dizzy and I’ve lost my brother.”

  “Hey, you lot over there! Are you all deaf? Why are you running away? Are you mad? Nothing but mad people!” I feel dizzy, I don’t feel well. “Why are you staring like that? I’m just having a little rest.”

  I know that man. “Hannes? Hannes? Is that you? Like an angel from heaven!” “Thanks, but I’m not cold.” “No, Hannes, I’m not crying, I’ve lost Ali. You’ve got to help me… You’ve found him? Is he alright? Is Mum really angry with me?” “No, I’m not getting worked up. I’m just so happy, thanks so much…” “Yes, I promise. Take me away from here. I can’t bear the people here, the way they stare. No, I’m not afraid of an injection…” “Yes, please stay! I need you. You’ve got to stay with me now.”

  PHASE TWELVE

  1

  The grubby white bedside table belonged to a psychiatric clinic, and unfortunately she was in the bed next to it. Judith’s first sight of the foam rubber floor was so depressing that she thought it best to go straight back to sleep, in accordance with the substance administered by her drip.

  Her second awakening, much later, was neither good nor bad. It was otherworldly. But maybe she ought to start acknowledging the otherworldly things as the important ones in life and warm to them rather than try to wage a continual struggle against them. Hannes. Yes, Hannes was actually sitting there, his entire face beaming with those supernaturally white teeth of his grandmother’s. He waved at Judith affectionately, thereby drawing her out from her medically induced hibernation. In defence of his being there, he was doing an excellent job of blocking out her mother, who had already assumed her Wailing Wall position and was only waiting until Judith was finally in a state to talk.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” Judith breathed voicelessly, striving to put on an expression vaguely related to a smile. “I found you,” he said with a misplaced touch of pride and fascination. “Hannes picked you up off the ground and brought you to hospital.” This was her mother’s earthier version. Judith: “But how…” “Sheer luck,” he interrupted her, needing to clear up the matter as quickly as possible. He’d phoned Gerd on the Sunday morning. Gerd was worried because he hadn’t been able to get through to Judith after the previous evening when she’d suddenly become quite unwell after “a lovely dinner, such a shame that I couldn’t be there”. He, Hannes, happened to be in the area at the time, so he told Gerd he’d try her entry phone – maybe she couldn’t hear her mobile. In Märzstrasse, at the top of the Reithofferpark, he’d come across a small huddle of people. And a woman was crouched on the pavement, looking as if she could do with help and support. “That woman was you,” he said, more with delight than horror. “That’s how I found you.”

  Mum: “Child, what are you doing…” Judith: “Mum, please, I’m really not in the mood…” Mum: “You’re running around the streets half naked, you could have caught your death of cold…” “Judith, we’ll go now and leave you in peace,” Hannes said, putting a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “We just didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up, because you ought to know that there’s always someone here for you when you’re not feeling well.” Judith didn’t have to look at her mother to know the expression spread across her face. For that alone she could never have loved Hannes. “That’s good of you,” she said. He’d already stood up, taken her mother by the arm and was waving with his left hand as only he could. It never looked like a goodbye, but always like a “welcome back”.

  Although she felt like a stunned housefly that had been knocked from the white neon light onto the bedclothes, she was keen at once to start piecing together and ordering the events of the last few hours – or was it days or weeks? A diminutive nurse in round glasses approached the bed, checked the figures relating to some of her internal values, drew up a syringe, the contents of which Judith was indifferent to, even as they probably had the potential to make her even more indifferent. “Where do you come from?” the patient whispered. “The Philippines,” the gentle creature said. “Shame we can’t be there,” Judith breathed. “Oh, much too hot!” the nurse said. “Here better!”

  2

  “And I could have sworn I’d never see you again,” Jessica Reimann said instead of offering Judith her hand. “Yes, I know, I’m really sorry. Somehow it all ended up a right mess,” Judith replied. It was her first conversation for four days, and even getting started on it made her feel tired and mushy. She’d refused to see all her friends as she was so embarrassed about her disastrous collapse, and the thought of having to go through another round of “I’ll-be-normal-again-soon” was unbearable after she’d just been caught deceiving them and brutally thrown back to the start.

  “Do you know why you’re here at least?” Reimann asked in a pleasingly s
trict way, the way you’d speak to a mature person who’d been up to silly things. Judith: “Not exactly, if I’m being honest.” Reimann: “I do.” She took a piece of paper and a pencil. “It’s a simple miscalculation.” Judith: “Oh dear, I was never good at maths.” Reimann: “Don’t worry, you just talk and I’ll take stock.”

  The psychiatrist wanted to know over what period that Saturday she’d taken how much alcohol in the form of what drinks, what and how much she’d eaten at what times, in addition to when she’d stopped taking which of the three tablets, when she’d started again and with what dose, and which and how many painkillers she’d mixed with them. Below the list – they were only rough estimates, to be on the safe side; under “alcohol” Judith had put only half the probable volume she’d consumed – Reimann drew a thick line and recapped: “If you take the interplay between all those substances and the timings of the various effects you get the following result, illustrated graphically.” Then she drew a neat skull on the paper, from which pretty clouds of smoke billowed. “With a cocktail like that, straying into the park is about the most harmless thing I can think of,” Reimann explained. “So you can see just what a harmless person I am,” Judith replied.

  After that she had to come up with the second set of fragments from her memory. She talked about the euphoric start to the evening with her friends, the sudden deterioration of her mood, the peaceful phase on the sofa, and her attacks of anxiety in bed. “Caused by?” Reimann asked. “By voices and noises that sounded so real that…” Reimann: “What sort of noises?” Judith: “The jangling of a chandelier, when the crystal pieces touch each other. It was my favourite chandelier in the shop and no other lamp could make that particular noise.” Reimann: “Hmm… interesting. I’ve never had a patient hear a jangling chandelier before. What sort of voices were they?” Judith: “Err… a sort of jumble of voices again.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention the Hannes thing; she couldn’t expect this highly intelligent person to put up with something so nutty.