"It depends," she said.
"For that much, thank you. Yes. I know. I don"t have any right and so on. Well, what I wanted to say -- millions of years ago there were these lizards, brontosaurs, atlantosaurs. . . Perhaps you have heard of them?"
"Yes."
"They were giants, the size of a house. They had exceptionally long tails, three times the length of their bodies. Consequently they were unable to move the way they might have wished -- lightly and gracefully. I, too, have such a tail. For ten years, for reasons unknown, I poked around among the stars. Perhaps it was not necessary. But never mind. I can"t undo it. That is my tail. You understand? I can"t behave as though it never happened, as though it never was. I don"t imagine that you are thrilled about this. About what I"ve told you and what I"m saying and have yet to say. But I see no help for it. I must have you, have you for as long as possible, and that is that. Will you say something?"
She looked at me. I thought that she turned even paler, but it could have been the lighting. She sat huddled in her fluffy robe as if she were cold. I wanted to ask her if she was cold, but again I was tongue-tied. I -- oh, I was not cold.
"What would you. . . do. . . in my place?"
"Very good!" I said, encouragingly. "I imagine that I would put up a fight."
"I cannot."
"I know. Do you think that that makes it easier for me? I swear to you it doesn"t. Do you want me to leave now, or can I say something else? Why are you looking at me that way? You know by now, surely, that I would do anything for you. Please don"t look at me like that. The things I say, they do not mean the same as when other people say them. And you know what?"
I was terribly out of breath, as if I had been running for a long time. I held both her hands -- had been holding them, for how long I did not know, perhaps from the beginning. I did not know. They were so small.
"Eri. You see, I never felt what I am feeling now. At this moment. Think of it. That terrible emptiness, out there. Indescribable. I didn"t believe I would return. No one did. We used to talk about it, but only in that way. They are still there, Tom Arder, Arne, Venturi, and are now like stones, you know, frozen stones, in the darkness. And I, too, should have remained, but if I am here and hold your hands, and can speak to you, and you hear, then perhaps this is not so bad. So base. Perhaps it isn"t, Eri! Only don"t look at me like that. I beg you. Give me a chance. Don"t think that this is -- merely love. Don"t think that. It is more. More. You don"t believe me. . . Why don"t you believe me? I"m telling you the truth. You don"t, do you?"
She was silent. Her hands were like ice.
"You can"t, is that it? It is impossible. Yes, I know it is impossible. I knew from the first moment. I have no business being here. There should be an empty s.p.a.ce here. I belong there. It is not my fault that I came back. Yes. I don"t know why I"m telling you all this. This doesn"t exist. It doesn"t, does it? If it doesn"t concern you, then it doesn"t matter. None of it You thought that I could do with you as I liked? That isn"t what I wanted, don"t you understand? You are not a star. . ."
Silence. The whole house was quiet. I bent my head over her hands, which lay limp in mine, and began to speak to them.
"Eri. Eri. Now you know you don"t have to be afraid, right? That nothing threatens you. But this is -- so big. Eri. I didn"t know. . . I swear to you. Why does man fly to the stars? I cannot understand. Because this is here. But maybe you have to go there first, to understand it. Yes, that"s possible. I"ll go now. I"m going. Forget all this. You"ll forget?"
She nodded.
"You won"t tell anyone?"
She shook her head.
"Truly?"
"Truly."
It was a whisper.
"Thank you."
I left. Stairs. A cream-colored wall; another, green. The door of my room. I opened the window wide, I breathed in. How good the air was. From the moment I left her, I was completely calm. I even smiled -- not with my mouth, not with my face. My smile was inside, pitying, toward my own stupidity, that I had not known, and it was so simple. Bent over, I went through the contents of the sports bag. Among the ropes? No. Some packages, was that it, no, wait a minute. . .
I had it. I straightened up, and suddenly I was embarra.s.sed.
The lights. I couldn"t, like that. I went to turn them off and found Olaf standing in the doorway. He was dressed. Hadn"t he gone to bed?
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? What do you have there? Don"t hide it!"
"It"s nothing."
"Show me!"
"No. Go away."
"Show me!"
"No."
"I knew it. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"
I did not expect the blow. My hand opened, dropping it, it clattered on the floor, and then we were fighting, I held him beneath me, he flung me off, the desk toppled, the lamp hit the wall with a crash that shook the house. Now I had him. He couldn"t break away, he only twisted, I heard a cry, her cry, and released him, and jumped back.
She was standing at the door.
Olaf got up on his knees.
"He wanted to kill himself. Because of you!" he croaked. He held his throat. I turned my face away. I leaned against the wall, my legs trembled under me. I was so ashamed, so horribly ashamed. She looked at us, first at one, then at the other. Olaf still held his throat.
"Go, both of you," I said quietly.
"You"ll have to finish me off first."
"For pity"s sake."
"No."
"Please, go," she said to him. I stood silent, my mouth open. Olaf looked at her, dumbstruck.
"Girl, he. . ."
She shook her head.
Keeping his eyes on us, he edged out of the room.
She looked at me.
"Is it true?" she asked.
"Eri. . ."
"You must?"
I nodded yes. And she shook her head.
"You mean. . . ?" I said. And again, stammering, "You mean. . . ?" She was silent. I went to her and saw that she was cringing, that her hands were shaking as she clutched the loose edge of her fluffy robe.
"Why? Why are you so afraid?"
She shook her head.
"No?"
"No."
"But you are trembling."
"It"s nothing."
"And. . . you"ll go away with me?"
She nodded twice, like a child. I embraced her, as gently as I was able. As if she were made of gla.s.s.
"Don"t be afraid. . ." I said. "Look. . ."
My own hands shook. Why had they not shaken then, when I slowly turned gray, waiting for Arder? What reserves, what innermost recesses had I reached at last, in order to learn my worth?
"Sit down," I said. "You are still trembling? But no, wait."
I put her on my bed, covered her up to the neck.
"Better?"
She nodded, better. Was she mute only with me, or was this her way?
I knelt by the bed.
"Tell me something," I whispered.
"What?"
"About yourself. Who you are. What you do. What you desire. No -- what you desired before I landed on you like a ton of bricks."
She gave a small shrug, as if saying, "There is nothing to tell."
"You don"t want to speak? Why, is it that . . . ?"
"It"s not important," she said. It was as if she had struck me with those words. I drew back.
"You mean. . . Eri. . . you mean. . ." I stammered. But I understood now. I understood perfectly.
I jumped up and began to pace the room.
"Not that way. I can"t, that way. I can"t. No, I. . ."
I gaped. Again. Because she was smiling. The smile was so faint, it was barely perceptible.
"Eri, what. . . ?"
"He is right," she said.
"Who?"
"That man, your friend."
"Right about what?"
It was difficult for her to say it. She looked away.
"That you are not wise."
"How do you know he said that?"
"I heard him."
"Our conversation? After dinner?"
She nodded. Blushed. Even her ears went pink.
"I could not help hearing. Your voices were awfully loud. I would have gone out, but. . ."
I understood. The door of her room was in the hallway. What an idiot I had been! I thought. I was stunned.
"You heard everything?"
She nodded.
"And you knew that it was about you?"
"Mhm."
"But how? Because I never mentioned. . ."
"I knew before that."
"How?"
She moved her head.
"I don"t know. I knew. That is, at first I thought I was imagining it."
"And when, later?"