I did not see them walking from that area. I was by now close to the water’s edge and the designated building was nearby.
Across the estuary dwellings were there, huddled together, yes, layers of them, one above and another and another, so on. Lines of clothes hanging to dry, I could see people moving, women, their backs to the water. But they will see the boats and wonder. Where do these boats sail, are they leaving the country. To which land do they sail. Who is aboard. Who gives these men such good work. Their uncles perhaps are employed in the offices of government, but our men do not get such work, our fathers were honest men, now dead, early, yes, the honest will die young. The angry are killed, the impatient are not always the angry, but they also are killed. The sarcastic can survive, they do survive, sarcasm continues, but now it is only from bitterness. The women see the men, they will wonder, and of their husbands who are bitter, bitter only to them, to the children they are silent.
The women seeing the boats, smelling the faraway lands, the freedoms. He is bitter only to me. But the bitterness smothers her and will smother the children. Where does this bitterness come from, as a girl she loved him, an adventurous boy, the life to come. Now nothing, she hangs the washed clothes, seeing the boats.
It was now cold here sitting on the stone dyke. I lifted the bag to my shoulder, walking down from there and to the side, a street up a street, returning, another street, returning. I was meeting the woman. The time approached. I passed along to the row of restaurants, some open to the water, and so to the one chosen. Inside tables were on a raised platform and I could gaze out upon the estuary and watch the water-vehicles. Who could call these ships. I could not. This town was an amusement. Yet local people so boasted, calling them so, these water-vehicles, not even boats. For those who have travelled it was an amusement, certainly.
A large restaurant, many tables, all empty but one for the waiters, seated together, to the side of the kitchen door. It was too soon for food. They were dressed in formal outfit, white shirts black trousers, hardly talking but yawning, recovering from sleep, now thoughts of these long long hours, death of their mind, staring upwards to the television. Its volume was turned low. I could not hear it but could see it, football match, European, perhaps South American, low voices of the commentators. What might the day bring. Evening. But might it offer some event, other event. Was it possible. So far it brought forth myself only and I was not wanted. I was an irritant. Yet was an interest, if I might choose the table, how selection occurred, if the table makes the decision, who lays the table with such artistry, I choose this not this. Where I sat down, between kitchen and entranceway. But why on that side close to them, why not miles apart, allowing more respite to them, they wondered.
My coffee was to spoil their morning. They had judged my value thus continuing to smoke their cigarettes. One now was talking, others listening, one nervous man ending his cigarette too soon, seeing it in the ashtray, rubbing his chin and pulling on his ear, now chewing his fingernails, the others having much left to smoke and this was the last now, soon customers would come and none could leave this place for three more hours, and all smoking would be outside in the alleyway, back entrance to the kitchen. I saw the brains in this man’s head, thumping on the shell, let me out let me out, I cannot stay in this job, it is not a job, how can a man live like this, I am leaving, I am going to Germany, to Copenhagen, I am told Oslo is good, in Amsterdam people have respect. Yes yes, go there. I go there. Why not Paris. Paris. Or London, Amereeca, New York, a fellow from our family’s village was leaving to New York, our grandfather’s friend, many years ago, our grandfather gave him a present in farewell, his shirt, very fine shirt, our grandmother was impatient with him, she said, You have no shirts for other people, he has a ticket to travel to America and you have nothing.
And onwards the past, never-ending, what future, what life to come, there is nothing, continuation only, if there is that. And I was to relax, these nerves were my own, chewing my fingernails, I had cigarettes, one now one later, money for cigarettes later, yes it would come, future was to come also. At this table I could not see to the harbour but to the side, and through the window there was the alleyway, route as she would arrive safely by my side. Now the waiter, an older fellow, moving as though to approach my table but he did not, merely shifted one chair, returning to the other waiters, not looking to myself, I did not exist for him. He was too old for such a job. He was the clever one among them. Yet his trousers were very shiny and the sleeves of his shirt, cuffs of these with threads coming from them. He was always the waiter, not having progressed. This was his final opportunity. Even so he could not ever be good, not at a job such as this. No, he could not even smile, he had not learned how this might be done. He tells his wife, I cannot even smile.
But you must try.
I try.
No, you do not, you do not, if so, otherwise, then you would.
This leaves him silent. He has no answer.
And she continues. Oh you must try.
I shall.
You must. If it is the last thing.
But it lies always beyond him, he cannot smile, not even that. And here now in the middle period of his days, watching the young men, hoping better for them, instilling in them questions, not to accept, not to conform to such expectation, low-level. Who tells you, whose expectation, what authority, by whose authority. He tells the young men they must not look to him as an example, except if as a bad example. Do not become like me, above all.
And there is the story of his brother, or his uncle, what of his uncle, or wife’s father, that old man, now dead, long since, of his dreams. And the women, all of them, and their stories, what of them, these people, could they take leave from my brain, go, please go.
These waiters were not serving. These waiters who were not serving myself.
What was the time, near to food, people arriving, as also the woman, when she would arrive if she was to arrive, not to arrive. What then, if she did not. I was to consider it, I had to, and then further, all possibilities, if she did not arrive then, what I was to do, the bag at my feet, lying there. And these lives around me, all were there in my head, filling my brain, boys with their great-grandfathers and girls and their mothers and ancestors, old old ladies, wizened and laughing, waiters and their wives, their dreams and clothes drying, sea wind. This waiter, this elder, his face opened then hardening, I saw how he observed myself, for myself he was the worse one, noting all of myself. But did it matter, if it did, I could not think, did not care. The hate from him. Yes, hate was there, hate firstly then inquisition, his stare now unconcealed, what I was, what? my clothes, tourist not tourist, stranger to our country, if that I was so, and what was my bag, what was in it. He looked at me fully, one second, two, three, now shifting on his chair, making it known for myself of his valour. Yes, valorous man. I know it. Beware also he carries that threat, that I should treat him with caution. I know it. Do not think only I am a waiter and such an age thus to be treated contemptuously. He would soon show to me another reality, fool that he was, I could smile at him. What might he tell to the younger men, how valorous he has been, what he has achieved. Nothing.
No. I should not have been in such a restaurant at such an hour. If my brains were to be in such turmoil, no, I do not think so. I had two cigarettes. I took one from my pocket, with matches, and soon was smoking, staring also to the football match, South American. But these waiters were on duty, if it was my fault they were to be disturbed. No, no matter. I should not have been treated this way. Customers would arrive at noon. This was 11.30. Even so I also was a customer, they should serve me.
At all costs they would not look busy.
Why they should look busy in such a job. A man has respect for himself and colleagues. I was no threat to them. It was of value to receive such a rating.
But I required coffee, beer, why not brandy, large brandy. At last a waiter moved from the table. I was his burden. He approached with one eye still to the tel
evision, standing in front of me but his head averted. I asked for that beer. He now glanced at me, unsmiling, indicating his wristwatch. I looked to it and in this moment saw also the doorway and through it beyond to outside there was the elderly fellow who carried these silk materials, walking towards the designated area. I could not see the shoe-polishing boy, if he also was there. The waiter looking to me, indicating his wristwatch.
It is too early for beer?
Yes, he said.
I can have brandy.
Yes, brandy.
And coffee, glass of water, iced water, lemon, yes. And why not beer?
Sorry.
The waiter looked to his colleagues but none saw it, looking only to the football. But I would salute them one to another when the brandy arrived, if they glanced at me. And if ten minutes were to pass before this brandy was brought to me then I would leave, yes, I cannot wait so long as this, explain to your owner it is too late, you cannot call this service, this is not service for any restaurant, this is a railway station and the train is late. You go sir?
Yes.
Good, do not come back.
Of course I do not come back, I shall tell the owner and the owner sacks you.
The owner does not sack me, he is first cousin of my wife’s uncle.
The waiter was placing a napkin and tea-plate by my elbow, jug of water, now returning to his colleagues, slouching into his chair, as that he had not left it, had not performed work services. But his energy could not be disguised. He had performed the napkin and tea-plate service easily, carefully. Minutes passed. He returned to the kitchen and from there now to my table, setting down my coffee, brandy, returning to his own table. One waiter spoke quietly to him and he replied also quietly, and there were smiles from them.
I had one urge to approach their table, to address them all, Gentlemen, why so foolish? Instead I drank water, reached for the brandy, salute, yes, we must work together, what is solidarity, it has a meaning, under the surface are we colleagues, we are colleagues.
Other customers were there and now, now came the time, and through the window to the alleyway I saw her approaching, her walk normal, shoulderbag, silk scarf covering her hair. I rose from the table to greet her, kissing, grasping her hand, looking to one another, kissing, returning to my table, my hand on her hand, she whispering to me, How are you?
I smiled to her, waving my hand, ordered coffee for her, one more brandy for myself, and she said, I also, brandy, thank you, if there is not money for food?
There is not money for food, but food smells from the kitchen are free. I also was hungry. We would eat later. We would wait here longer, twenty minutes.
These waiters watching her. Yes, beautiful woman. I saw the elder waiter observing also, not antagonistic, inventing our story. He would say it to his wife this afternoon, home for two hours, again returning here for evening. Yes, now he wondered, perhaps I was a different one to what he supposed, suspected. The waiters knew that she was not a tourist, not foreign, they knew that, only seeing her. And now of myself, observing how we were together. I had the second cigarette then, gave it to herself, she smoking it, having her peace, later returning it to me, sipping her coffee. Yes and soon all attention was gone of individuals, frantically, oh what upheaval now waiters and customers, the disturbance proper had come from the designated building and onto the street, beyond proper eyeview, people crowding to the windows overlooking the harbour, all action, screams and more shooting, rapid fire, more rapid fire, now pistol shots. We remained in our seats. Outside was further activity. I continued talking to her, she staring away from me to those who stood by the window watching the scene beyond, customers also, and securitys, I saw them arriving down from our side and farther along men were carrying a body and many securitys now rushing here, there, to there, to here, again. We also were moving, up from the table, bag over my shoulder, leaving money for the drinks, the waiters by the door shifting slightly, one staring to us, them allowing us to squeeze our way past, as if not seeing us, not seeing us. The elder waiter did not notice our leave-taking, his face turned towards the extraordinary event now taking place on the street beyond their window, and it was wonder there, his eyes were wide, how such a thing might happen! yes, how so, it is extraordinary, how life may be, for many it is so, always.
We walked by the promenade, away from these other places, and I spoke of my time in the restaurant, impressions of the waiters, the boy and the elderly fellow, great-grandparent, silver brushes, uncles in America, what future, no future, if within these areas perhaps already dead, but such is a common story and I said so to her. She hesitated a moment, looking to me, her hand to my arm. I saw that we passed a modern bar now and at the entrance women were sprinkling something and it was onto a liquid thick liquid, a rancid liquid, as buttermilk, something, that odour. They sprinkled onto this liquid, a disinfectant and methodically, their mind elsewhere, worlds lost.
8
“words, thoughts”
I had risen early, unable to sleep, and was preparing to leave. My companion was sleeping. I saw her box there and looked into it. I had given the box to her, having found it in a place I cannot remember, it was wooden, decorative. She kept articles there, trinkets, also her notebook. She said notebook, it was not notebook, child’s diary. I opened this child’s diary to read, as she said, as her thoughts were there. I read, now seeing my thoughts also were written there. She said to me she would write down my thoughts and had done it. I did not want her to do this. I told her. She smiled, if I was pretending, I was not. It gave a strange feeling for myself. She said, You are superstitious, I did not suppose you were. She smiled and touched my face but something now in myself and she withdrew her hand. What is it?
If you write then you write, what I may say to you, I cannot stop you.
It is to keep our thoughts by me. You have your mind, your memory.
I can lose my memory. What is wrong?
Nothing is wrong, I do not want you to write our thoughts into the notebook.
You are superstitious.
No, only I do not want you to do it, it says a thing of the future.
Superstition.
I had said nothing more to her. I sounded foolish, yes, superstitious. Now when I looked I saw in her diary words I remembered, if there are children, and there are, what is it we are to do, there is that. I do not believe in God. There is nothing else. Only continuation. These words of my thoughts, her words.
I heard her breathing, she was on her back, her mouth opened a little, it is true I saw then how she would be if older, an old woman but now we would die, of course I would die. Herself, I think so. How long it would be for us. I turned the pages. More. These words were drunken thoughts were drunken. So, when I had said these to her, I was drunk. I must have been so. Where we then had been? I could not remember, but not this town. Would we live beyond that time. Always. I spoke nonsense. She wrote down my nonsense.
If she had written this as expressed by myself, foolish foolish, childish arrogance. There is no god, only continuation, we shall live forever. Can a future be there for ourselves. Yes. I had said this to her, yes, but the answer to her question is no, there will come no future. Herself myself. If we might remain as man to woman together, beyond that time. The light extinguished.
No. I have said, no.
I could not read further. I watched her sleeping. Her eyelids flickered, she dreamed. I was tired but could not return to her side. Yet I could not sleep, had I, if I so could return. There was no time, no time, what is time, we had none, time for continuation, such words always words and my thoughts of my thoughts, what thoughts were. So much more, and that I could not say to her, as my first thought, if I would awaken.
But beyond also was life. I knew it. This only was a room and we were guests of one family, now to be gone. I prepared for the departure, put her box into one bag, roused her, kneeling, laying my hand to her brow, my hand to cup her skull. She quickly was awake, in that moment looking to
myself, so, I am the one, yes, she smiled. I kissed her lips. Her lips were softer at this time, morning and from sleep, her lips drawing me once more under the covering and her warmth always softness, I kissed her and the roughness there. She said that my moustache made a rash on her. There was no razor.
I had water for her to wash, some bread had been left for us by the family. There had been a meeting of people the previous night. Later we made to leave, I said to her, I can knock on their door, we will say goodbye.
No.
No?
They do not want it.
There is the children, they played with us.
We should go now. She took my hand, looking to the bags there, and she had our equipment also. I took the larger bag from the floor, very heavy, settled it onto my shoulder, adjusting that weight, now seeing the bottle of wine from last night, we had brought it. There are spoils, I said, pointing to the side of the pallet. My companion looked, waiting if I would say more but nothing and so she nodded, reaching to the door handle.
9
“I do not know about morale”
Her key was in the lock, moments ago. I saw my eyes in the mirror, they did not look tired. This now was evening and work was there, it was to be done. I can say work. This town with thousands of people, thousands and many many thousands, tens thousands. If she was not exhausted beyond all, if she might return outside, there was a cafe and the people were of colleagues, family, and safety. I would take her to it. She had been gone for six days. How she would be now, if the time had been difficult and for these colleagues beside her, how had they been and had all survived it. People do not survive, of course it is true, awkward times difficult times, but she had survived. I knew this, having received advice. But what also was there, something also there, it was at my brain, now into my brain, and I was preparing for something from her, something. What it was, I did not know. If what was expected, that I might expect it from her, it so could not be, she would do differently, always. But what would happen, something had happened or would to happen. I could not think it but knew it.
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