Return From the Stars Page 19

  Yes, I thought I would. I went toward the house, picked up my robe, brushed the sand from it. The hall was brightly lit. I approached her door. Perhaps she would let me in, I thought. If she let me in, I would stop caring about her. Perhaps. And perhaps that would be the end of it. Or I’d get a slap in the face. No. They were good, they were betrizated, they were not able. She would give me a glass of milk; it would do me a world of good. I must have stood there for five minutes — and recalled the caves of Kereneia, the notorious hole Olaf had talked about. That wonderful hole! Probably an old volcano. Arder had got himself wedged between some boulders and could not get out, and the lava was rising. Not lava, actually; Venturi said it was a kind of geyser — but that was later. Arder… We heard his voice. On the radio. I went down and pulled him out. God! I would have preferred that ten times over to this door. Not the slightest sound. Nothing.

  If only the door had had a handle. Instead, a plate. Nothing like that on mine upstairs. I did not know whether it functioned somehow as a lock, or whether I should press it; I was still the savage from Kereneia.

  I raised a hand and hesitated. And if the door did not open? I pictured my retreat: it would give me something to think about for a long time. And I felt that the longer I stood, the less strength I had, as though everything were oozing out of me. I touched the plate. It did not yield. I pressed harder.

  “Is that you, Mr. Bregg?” I heard her voice. She must have been standing on the other side of the door.

  “Yes.”

  Silence. A half a minute. A minute.

  The door opened. She stood in the doorway. Wearing a fluffy housecoat. Her hair fell over the collar. Not until now, incredibly, did I see that it was chestnut.

  The door, only ajar. She held it. When I stepped forward, she backed away. By itself, without a sound, the door closed behind me.

  An suddenly I realized how this must look. She watched, motionless, pale, holding the edges of her robe together, and there I was, opposite her, dripping, naked, in Olaf’s black trunks, my sandy robe in my hand — gaping…

  And at the thought, I broke into a smile. I shook out the robe. Put it on, fastened it, sat down. I noticed two wet marks where I had been standing before. But I had absolutely nothing to say. What could I say? Suddenly it came to me. Like an inspiration.

  “You know who I am?”

  “I know.”

  “Ah, you do? That’s good. From the travel office?”

  “No.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I am… wild, do you know that?”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. Terribly wild. What is your name?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Your first name.”

  “Eri.”

  “I am going to carry you off.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Carry you off. You don’t want to be?”

  “No.”

  “No matter. I am. Do you know why?”

  “I guess.”

  “You don’t. I don’t.”

  She was silent

  “Nothing I can do about it,” I went on. “It happened the moment I saw you. The day before yesterday. At the table. Do you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “But perhaps you think that I am joking?”

  “No.”

  “How could you… ? No matter. Will you try to escape?”

  She was silent.

  “Don’t,” I asked. “It would be useless, you know. I would not leave you alone. I would like to, do you believe me?”

  She was silent.

  “You see, it isn’t just because I am not betrizated. Nothing matters to me, you see. Nothing. Except you. I have to see you. I have to look at you. I have to hear your voice. I have to, and I care about nothing else. Nowhere. I don’t know what will become of us. It will end badly, I suppose. But I don’t care. Because something is worthwhile now. Because I speak and you listen. Do you understand? No. How could you? You have all done away with drama, in order to live quietly. I cannot. I do not need that.”

  She was silent. I took a deep breath.

  “Eri,” I said, “listen… but sit down.”

  She did not move.

  “Please. Sit down.”

  Nothing.

  “It won’t hurt you to sit down.”

  Suddenly I understood. I clenched my teeth.

  “If you don’t want to, then why did you let me in?”

  Nothing.

  I got up. I took her by the shoulders. She did not resist. I sat her down in an armchair. I moved mine closer, so that our knees almost touched.

  “You can do what you like. But listen. I am not to blame for this. And you most certainly are not. No one is. I did not want this. But that’s how it is. It is, you understand, a beginning. I know that I am behaving like a madman. I know it. But I’ll tell you why. You’re not going to speak to me at all now?”

  “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 space 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 embarrassed.

  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 bastard!”

  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 glass.

  “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?”

  “I don’t know. Yes, during the day. I felt it.”

  “You were afraid?” I asked glumly.

  “No.”

  “No? Why not?”

  She gave a wan smile.

  “You are exactly, exactly like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like in a fairy tale. I did not know that one could be that way… and if it were not for the fact that… you know… I would have thought it was a dream.”

  “It isn’t, I assure you.”

  “Oh, I know. I only said it that way. You know what I mean?”

  “Not exactly. It seems I am dense, Eri. Yes, Olaf was right. I am a blockhead. An out-and-out blockhead. So speak plainly, won’t you?”

  “All right. You think that you are frightening, but you’re not at all. You only…”

  She fell silent, as if unable to find the words. I had been listening with my mouth half open.

  “Eri, child, I… I didn’t think that I was frightening, no. Nonsense. I assure you. It was only when I arrived, and listened, and learned various things… but enough. I’ve said enough. Too much. I have never in my life been so talkative. Speak, Eri. Speak.” I sat on the bed.

  “I have nothing to say, really. Except… I don’t know…”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “What is going to happen?”

  I leaned over her. She looked into my eyes. Her eyelids did not flicker. Our breaths mingled.

  “Why did you let me kiss you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I touched her cheek with my lips. Her neck. I lay with my head upon her shoulder. Never before had I felt like this. I had not known that I could feel this way. I wanted to weep.

  “Eri,” I whispered voicelessly, mouthing the words. “Eri. Save me.”

  She lay motionless. I could hear, as if at a great distance, the rapid beating of her heart. I sat up.

  “Could…” I began, but hadn’t the courage to finish. I got up, picked up the lamp, set
the desk right, and stumbled over something — the penknife. It lay on the floor. I threw it into the suitcase. I turned to her.

  “I’ll put out the light,” I said. “OK?”

  She did not answer. I touched the switch. The darkness was complete, even in the open window, no lights, not even distant lights, were visible. Nothing. Black. As black as out there.

  I closed my eyes. The silence hummed.

  “Eri,” I whispered. She did not reply. I sensed her fear. I groped toward the bed. I listened for her breath, but the ringing silence drowned out everything, as if it had materialized in the darkness and now was the darkness. I ought to leave, I thought. Yes. I would leave at once. But I bent forward and with a kind of clairvoyance found her face. She held her breath.

  “No,” I murmured, “really…”

  I touched her hair. I stroked it with the tips of my fingers; it was still foreign to me, still unexpected. I so wanted to understand all this. But perhaps there was nothing to understand? Such silence. Was Olaf asleep? Surely not. He sat, he listened. Was waiting. Go to him, then? But I couldn’t. This was too improbable, uncertain. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I lay my head on her shoulder. One movement and I was beside her. I felt her entire body stiffen. She shrank away. I whispered:

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  “No.”

  “You are trembling.”

  “I’m just…”

  I held her. The weight of her head slipped into the crook of my arm. We lay thus, side by side, and there was darkness and silence.

  “It’s late,” I whispered, “very late. You can sleep. Please. Go to sleep…”

  I rocked her, with only the slow flexing of my arm. She lay quietly, but I felt the warmth of her body and her breath. It was rapid. And her heart was beating like an alarm. Gradually, gradually, it began to subside. She must have been very tired. I listened at first with my eyes open, then shut them, it seemed to me that I could hear better that way. Was she already asleep? Who was she? Why did she mean so much to me? I lay in that darkness; a breeze came through the window, and stirred the curtains, so that they made a soft rustling sound. I was filled, motionless, with amazement. Ennesson. Thomas. Venturi. Arder. What had it all been for? For this? A pinch of dust. There where the wind never blows. Where there are no clouds or sun, or rain, where there is nothing, exactly as if nothing were possible or even imaginable. And I had been there? Really? Why? I no longer knew anything, everything dissolved into the formless darkness — I froze. She twitched. Slowly turned over on her side. But her head remained on my arm. She murmured something, very softly. And went on sleeping. I tried hard to picture the chromosphere of Arcturus. A seething vastness, above which I flew and flew, as if revolving on a monstrous, invisible carousel of fire, with tearing, swollen eyes, and repeated in a lifeless voice: Probe, zero, seven — probe, zero, seven — probe, zero, seven — a thousand times, so that afterward, at the very thought of those words, something in me shuddered, as if I had been branded with them, as if they were a wound; and the reply was a crackling in the earphones, and the giggling-squawking into which my receiver translated the flames of the prominence, and that was Arder, his face, his body, and the rocket, turned to incandescent gas… And Thomas? Thomas was lost, and no one knew that he… And Ennesson? We never got along — I couldn’t stand him. But in the pressure chamber I struggled with Olaf, who did not want to let me go because it was too late. How all-fired noble of me. But it was not nobility, it was simply a matter of price. Yes. Because each one of us was priceless, human life had the highest value where is could have none, where such a thin, practically nonexistent film separated it from annihilation. That wire or contact in Arder’s radio. That weld in Venturi’s reactor, which Voss failed to detect — but perhaps it opened suddenly, that did happen, after all, fatigue in metal — and Venturi ceased to exist in maybe five seconds. And Thurber’s return? And the miraculous rescue of Olaf, who got lost when his directional antenna was punctured — when, how? No one knew. Olaf came back, by a miracle. Yes, one-in-a-million odds. And I had luck. Extraordinary, impossible luck. My arm ached, a wonderful ache. Eri, I said in my mind, Eri. Like the song of a bird. Such a name. The song of a bird… We used to ask Ennesson to do bird calls. He could do them. How he could do them, and when he perished, along with him went all those birds…