Too Many Men

by Lily Brett

  Ruth was puzzled. She really must be losing it, going nuts, she thought.

  She remembered putting four new rolls of film into this bag. Then it hit her.

  Of course, the perfume and the new rolls of film had been stolen. She sat down on the lumpy bed and started to cry. She cried and cried. She felt stupid for crying over lost perfume and rolls of film. She knew she was crying for far more than that. She had to stop crying, she thought. She wiped her eyes. She finished packing.

  [ 3 1 0 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  She called Edek. “Are you ready?” she said.

  “I am nearly ready,” he said. “But I cannot find my razor blades. I did have a new packet. It had twelve razor blades. Those ones what you throw away.”

  “Disposable razors,” Ruth said.

  “I cannot find where I did put them,” Edek said.

  “I think you might find them in the pocket of one of the employees of the hotel,” Ruth said.

  “What?” said Edek.

  “My perfume and some rolls of film for the camera are gone, too,” Ruth said. “They’ve been stolen.”

  Edek started to laugh. “I did think I was going crazy,” he said.

  “Me too,” she said.

  “Maybe we are crazy?” he said. “Who else would come to Lódz?”

  “I can’t believe they stole our stuff,” Ruth said.

  “They did take my razor blades and your perfume?” Edek said.

  “And the film,” she said. Edek started laughing, again. He laughed and laughed. His laughter made Ruth laugh.

  “They got us, again,” Edek said when he stopped laughing.

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” Ruth said. She was still laughing.

  Stefan had arrived when Ruth got downstairs. Edek was embracing him.

  Stefan looked pretty pleased to see Edek. Ruth waved to Stefan, and walked to the front desk to pay the hotel bill. She had to wait ten minutes for the hotel’s computer to print out the receipt. She looked for Edek. He was handing out tips. Tips for the doorman. Tips for the porter. Ruth walked quickly over to him.

  “Why are you tipping everyone?” she said. “They stole our stuff.”

  “How do you know it was them who did steal our stuff?” Edek said.

  Maybe he had a point, she thought. She went back to collect the receipt.

  She smiled at the porter and the doorman. She was so happy to be leaving.

  She got into the Mercedes. She was happy to be in the Mercedes. She was even happy to see Stefan.

  They got out of Lódz in record time. Ruth wondered whether Edek had T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 1 1 ]

  asked Stefan to get a move on. She was sure Edek was as happy to leave Lódz as she was.

  Soon, they were in a more rural part of Poland. The countryside looked peaceful, to Ruth. Farmhouses and chickens. Small cottages and snow-covered shrubs. The odd cow and a couple of horses. Some goats tethered to posts. Everything was so quiet. So benign. Most of the homes were adorned with religious symbols. Jesus on the cross, shrines to the Madonna, lone crosses. Some of the shrines were very elaborate. Housed in buildings in front of the homes, they were almost small chapels. Barely one home was without a display of its occupants’ religiosity. These testaments to godliness dotted the landscape.

  They passed donkeys and carts. Donkeys loaded with coal, and donkeys carrying straw. They passed a man making a broom out of branches of a tree. Ruth was glad that they were out of the city. They drove past an enormous sculpture of the Madonna in front of a farmhouse. “Look at that Madonna,” Ruth said to Edek. But Edek didn’t hear. He was in the front, talking to Stefan.

  A minute later Edek turned around to Ruth. “Was you talking about Madonna?” he said. Ruth was about to explain it was an image of the Madonna, the Virgin Mary, not Madonna, the celebrity, when Edek said,

  “She is going to be a star, this Madonna.” Ruth didn’t have the heart to tell him that Madonna was already as big a star as it was possible to be. Last year Edek had predicted that Michael Jackson would make it big. It wasn’t a Michael Jackson revival that Edek was forecasting. Edek hadn’t noticed that Michael Jackson had ever hit the big time.

  Stefan had turned off the side roads and gone onto a highway. Ruth was sad to leave the more bucolic setting. Edek and Stefan had been talking to each other since they had left Lódz. Ruth heard Stefan compliment Edek on his Polish. “You have done my day,” Edek said to Stefan. Ruth wasn’t sure whether to point out that what Edek meant was “you have made my day,” or to let him know he had been speaking English to Stefan. Suddenly Edek realized his mistake. He roared with laughter. “I did speak English to you,” he said to Stefan. Then he slapped his head and explained the double slipup to Stefan. They both roared with laughter. Ruth smiled. She was glad that Edek was happy.

  [ 3 1 2 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  Two minutes later, there were loud guffaws from Stefan and Edek. The car slowed down. Ruth looked out of the window. Ahead of them, almost in the middle of the highway, were two women. Two women gyrating wildly with their pelvises. Both women had their pelvises pushed out in a movement that couldn’t be mistaken for anything that wasn’t suggestive of sex.

  These women were suggesting sex to whatever possible passersby they were able to flag down with their hips.

  Ruth couldn’t believe her eyes. She had never seen prostitutes like these. One woman had an enormous head of yellow hair, bright red cheeks, thickly rimmed black eyes, and a big pink mouth. The other woman was black-haired and black-eyed. They were both wearing short shorts underneath winter coats. The black-haired one waved to a truck driver who pulled off the highway.

  “She did get a customer,” Edek said to Stefan.

  “You’ll have to speak Polish if you want him to understand,” Ruth said, although she had been reluctant to let Edek know she had seen the prostitutes. It would have been impossible not to see them. Stefan had slowed down to a crawl. Edek and Stefan were looking at the women and chuckling. They lowered their voices. Ruth couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  She decided that it was just as well. It was better for her state of mind not to know what they were saying.

  Ruth realized why the prostitutes were jutting their hips out and gyrating with such exaggerated, crude movements. They had to exaggerate. The women had a very brief time period, a small window of opportunity, in which to get their message across. A subtle movement would never be noticed by a speeding truck driver.

  “We’re not going to stop, are we?” she said to Edek. Stefan must have heard the stern tone in her voice. He speeded up.

  She should do some work in the car, she thought. She should write a fax to Max telling her that it was not possible to sell the copyright to any of her letters. It was too problematic to try to guarantee that no one else would ever be given the same letter. How many words would she have to guarantee not to repeat? Any sentence contained in the letter? Any word? It was clearly not a viable proposition. Max would just have to tell Mr. Kendall that he couldn’t buy the copyright to the refusal-to-lend-his-name-to-the-fund-raising-event letter she had written for him. She got out a pen and T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 1 3 ]

  paper. She would outline the difficulties of selling a copyright, to Max, in a fax. She looked at the blank sheet of paper. She felt too tired to write anything. She was too tired to compose a shopping list. She was exhausted.

  She put the paper away.

  She could feel herself drifting off. She tried to stay awake. She never slept during the day. She had read that insomniacs should never nap. She wasn’t an insomniac. But she did suffer from occasional sleeplessness.

  She thought that not sleeping during the day was a good preventive measure to allay any potential insomnia. She was finding it harder and harder to stay awake. She contemplated beginning a conversation with Edek.

  But he was so happy chatting with Stefan. She didn’t want to disturb his happiness.
She wondered how long it would be before they arrived in Kraków.

  “Ruthie darling,” Edek said.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “You are asleep.”

  “No I’m not,” she said. “I never sleep during the day.” She looked out of the car window. It was dark outside. She must have fallen asleep.

  “Where are we?” she said.

  “We are nearly in Kraków,” said Edek.

  “Nearly in Kraków?”

  “I told you you was sleeping,” Edek said.

  Ruth was disoriented. She must have slept for over two hours. She felt very groggy. “I was very happy that you was sleeping,” Edek said.

  “Did you sleep?” Ruth said.

  “No,” said Edek. “But I am not so tired what you are.”

  “Lódz was pretty tough, wasn’t it?” she said.

  “You can say that again, brother,” Edek said.

  They pulled up outside the hotel. Ruth found some peppermint Tic-Tacs. She hoped that the strong flavor would pep her up.

  “Will you pay Stefan while I check in?” Ruth said.

  “Okey dokey,” Edek said. Okey dokey, Ruth thought. Why was her father in such a good mood? Maybe it was because they had left Lódz.

  Anybody would be in a good mood leaving Lódz.

  [ 3 1 4 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  Ruth put her credit card down on the desk in front of the receptionist, a man who was about thirty. “Two rooms for Rothwax,” she said.

  “You are here to visit the Auschwitz Museum,” the receptionist said.

  Ruth was shocked. How did he know what she had come to Kraków for?

  Could he tell she was Jewish just by looking at her? Or maybe he recognized Rothwax as a Jewish name. Were all Jews who visited Kraków headed for Auschwitz?

  “I’m not here to see the Auschwitz Museum,” she said loudly to the receptionist. “I am here to visit the Auschwitz death camp.” The receptionist coughed nervously. He looked disconcerted. She hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. “I’m here to visit the Auschwitz death camp,” she said in a quieter voice. He lowered his eyes.

  “I can get you a very good driver,” he said. “The museum is approximately forty miles west of Kraków.”

  “The death camp, you mean,” Ruth said.

  He nodded. “I can get you a very good driver with a Mercedes,” he said.

  Poles seemed to be very good at producing drivers with Mercedes for Jews, Ruth thought. Maybe it wasn’t just Jews who were offered drivers with Mercedes. Mercedes for Jews, Ruth thought. A bizarre business. Edek had joined her.

  “We do want two rooms not too far from each other,” he said. “I want to be near to my daughter.”

  “Of course,” said the receptionist.

  “Stefan is very happy,” Edek said. “I did give him a good tip.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Ruth said.

  “You have two rooms next to each other,” the receptionist said.

  “Thank you very much,” said Edek.

  “Should I book the driver for you for the Auschwitz Museum?” the receptionist said to Ruth.

  “It’s a death camp,” she said.

  “What for do you argue with him?” Edek said.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Stefan is waiting to say good-bye to you,” Edek said.

  Ruth walked over to the front door where Stefan was waiting. Stefan smiled at her. “Thank you very much,” Ruth said to Stefan. Edek and Stefan embraced each other. “Travel well,” Edek said to Stefan. “You travel in T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 1 5 ]

  good health,” Stefan said to Edek. They hugged again. Ruth shook her head. She really couldn’t understand this friendship. Was it a friendship?

  She didn’t know. She was much too tired to work it out. “Good-bye, Miss Rothwax,” Stefan said to Ruth. Ruth put out her hand. Stefan leaned down and kissed her hand. She smiled at him.

  “Thank you for looking after us,” she said.

  Chapter Twelve

  T he sound of someone humming came ringing across the Planty, the park that followed the course of the ancient ramparts and enclosed the Stare Miasto, the Old Town, in the center of Kraków. Ruth was unnerved. It was 7 A.M. She had been running on the path that encir-cled the Planty for an hour. It was not yet light. The unpaved path was uneven. She had been trying not to slip on the odd patches of ice.

  Very few people were about. The path was close enough to the street for her to feel safe. A middle-aged man was crossing the park diagonally, in front of her. Was it him singing? She looked at the man walking. He didn’t look as though he was singing.

  All of a sudden, Ruth recognized the voice. It wasn’t a Pole. It was Höss. Höss was here, in Kraków. She felt frustrated and agitated.

  “You recognized my singing, I see,” Höss said. He sounded very chipper. Almost chirpy.

  Why was Höss so happy? Ruth wondered. She stopped running. She realized she had been running and talking. Something she had never been able to do simultaneously before.

  She bent down to tie up her shoelace. She really needed some new running shoes. She was sure she had done more than five hundred miles in these shoes, and she knew they lost most of their shock absorbency after five hundred miles. How could she be thinking about her shoes and their T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 1 7 ]

  shock absorbency? She was in Poland, in Kraków, in the Planty, early in the morning, talking to Rudolf Höss.

  “I thought I’d gotten rid of you permanently,” she said to Höss.

  “It is not so easy to get rid of me,” Höss said.

  “You mean it is possible?”

  “If you do not know this why should I tell you?” he said.

  “I tell you things,” Ruth said.

  “And I reciprocate,” Höss said. “You do not know something which you need to know.”

  “I don’t know many things I need to know,” Ruth said. She adjusted her pedometer. It was digging into her waist. She left her headphones on. The cold sometimes gave her an earache.

  “Your father knows something you do not know,” Höss said.

  “Of course he does,” Ruth said. “I haven’t lived his life.”

  “He knows something which you need to know,” Höss said. “This something he has known for many years. For decades. Ask him about this.”

  “You’re giving me more advice?” Ruth said. “Wow, I’m so lucky.”

  “I can see that you are not sincere about this statement,” Höss said.

  “You can see?” Ruth said.

  “I can see,” said Höss. He took a deep breath. Ruth could hear the intake of air. So Höss still breathed the same air as everyone else. The same air that she was breathing. How weird, Ruth thought.

  “Edek Rothwax has chosen not to tell you about this,” Höss said.

  “You know my father’s name?” Ruth said.

  “Of course,” said Höss. “Why are you surprised? You and I know a lot about each other.” Ruth took a sip of water. She felt dehydrated. “I am trying to help you,” Höss said.

  “What a joke,” Ruth said. She laughed.

  “I am serious about this,” Höss said. “I want to help you.”

  Ruth felt quite calm. She could cope with Höss as long as he remained himself. When he seemed in danger of metamorphosing into Mother Teresa, she lost all of her patience with him. She was surprised at her admission that she could cope with Höss. It was a revelation to her.

  “Don’t pretend to want to be helpful to me,” Ruth said. She dug her heel lightly into the ground. Höss winced. A small yelp escaped from him.

  “I am not pretending,” he gasped.

  [ 3 1 8 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  Ruth steadied herself. The spot she had chosen to dig her heel into had been frozen. She had nearly slipped. “Fuck you,” she said. “I’m sick of you.”

  “Why do you persist with these obsceniti
es?” Höss said. “Even taking into account my improved English, they do not offend me.”

  “Well, you’d better become familiar with them because English is becoming the language of the future in Europe. That is, if you do have a future,” Ruth said.

  “Of course I have a future,” Höss said. “I have explained this to you before. Dead people have a future. It is as complicated a future as any person’s future can be.”

  “What sort of complications are you talking about?” Ruth said.

  “There are certain things you have to relive when you are dead,” Höss said. “Certain portions of your life and sometimes, of your death.”

  “Really?” said Ruth. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  “The reliving of your life has a different connotation, in Himmel,” Höss said. “I have noticed that in Himmel they seem on the whole to relive very pleasant aspects of their lives.”

  “But not in Zweites Himmel’s Lager?” Ruth said.

  “No,” Höss said. He sounded glum.

  “That’s good,” she said. Höss overlooked her barb.

  Ruth had an image of Zweites Himmel’s Lager as a vast space populated with people who were reliving their living and their dying, trying to get it right. And in all probability repeating every aspect of their original lives. It was hard to change, hard to learn, even from your own experience.

  “I did hear the rumors about English becoming the language of Europe,” Höss said. “In Himmel they give advanced English classes to all the Europeans. In Zweites Himmel’s Lager we have to earn the privilege.”

  He sighed. “We have to earn the privilege for almost everything, it seems.”

  “Well, you must be a slow earner,” Ruth said. Höss didn’t reply. “It’s a pun on a slow learner,” she said. “It’s a common English expression.” She shook her head in irritation. Why was she pointing out puns and summing up musicals to Höss?

  “I heard this morning that the German government is closing down even more of the Goethe Institutes around the world,” Höss said. “You know of course about the Goethe Institutes?”

  T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 1 9 ]

  “Of course,” she said. “The Goethe Institutes are entrusted with the promotion of the German language abroad. I won a prize for reciting Der Erlkönig at the Goethe Institute, in Melbourne when I was thirteen.”