“I’M SORRY,” Adam said. “I had no idea.”
Katja blew her nose in the handkerchief. She kept her head lowered, as if she were inspecting the round table or the empty coffee cups still on it.
“But it can’t be all that easy to drown.”
“That’s what you think. Rivers are different—and then when it’s pitch dark and you’ve got something like that on your back. And the first time your head goes under, when it pulls you down, you panic. All you know is: It’s stronger than you.”
“I wouldn’t have gone in. I would have let them nab me.”
“When you stand there looking across, staring at the far bank, the river gets smaller and smaller, and you think, Let’s go, dive in, best do it right now, don’t even stop and think. You’re only afraid of border guards and dogs.”
Adam tried to touch her hands. People at the next table glanced across. He slid closer to Katja.
“There’s nothing you can do to fight back, nothing at all. It grabs you and spins you around, like some evil angel, you’re powerless—”
“But you made it.”
“I was lucky, that’s all.” She wiped her tears and sniffed hard. Suddenly she was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. He slid closer still and laid an arm around her. He stroked her hair, the back of her head. He looked at the nape, the clasp of a thin silver chain. If the waiter had arrived a second later, he probably would have kissed her at that spot just under the clasp, where that little vertebra stuck out—the one he always used for measuring his clients.
The waiter laid the knives and forks, wrapped in white napkins, beside their plates, opened the lid of the mustard jar, and, as if the other guests weren’t supposed to see, slipped two little packages of ketchup under the rim of Adam’s plate. He departed again without a word.
Katja sat up.
“Here,” Adam said, pushing a glass of mineral water over to her. Katja took a sip, held the glass in her hand for a moment, only to drink it down in one gulp. She blew her nose again and stuck the handkerchief in her pants pocket. Adam unwrapped the utensils and passed her a set.
“First you need to get your strength back.”
“Where are you going from here?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“To the embassy, and I mean the right one, in Budapest.”
“I’ll take you.”
Adam tried to open one of the red and white packages. He laid it down again, wiped his hands, and tried once more. Finally he put it between his teeth and yanked.
“I can’t even watch this,” Katja said, grabbing the other package, and opened it with ease.
Adam pressed the ketchup through the tiny opening onto his wurst. A couple of squirts landed on the table.
“What sort of work do you do?”
“I’m a tailor, a ladies’ custom tailor.”
“I’d expect you to know tricks like that.”
“If you want, I’ll dress you up shiny and new.”
“Is that what that callus comes from?” She pointed to his right thumb. “I thought maybe you play guitar.”
They ate in silence. Adam was glad he hadn’t kissed Katja on the nape of her neck.
“Do you think they might have some chocolate here too?” she asked.
Adam turned around toward the buffet. They both got up. Katja pressed both index fingers against the glass of the vitrine beside the cash register.
“Kinderschokolade? Kinderschokolade!” he said, and directed the waiter’s hand with shakes and nods of his head.
“Kettő.” Adam spread two fingers. He bought four more bottles of water and paid.
Outside they sat down on a bench, each with a bar of Kinderschokolade in their hands, and pushed the little squares out. Pulling back the wrapper after each one, they stuck them into their mouths—Adam devouring one whole piece at a time, Katja biting them in half.
“What’s up?” Adam asked, when Katja stopped chewing to stare at the paving stones.
“Wouldn’t have taken much and the film would’ve started playing over again.”
Adam waited for her to continue. “You mean, if you’d been drowning?” he finally asked.
“That I could touch bottom was dumb luck, nothing else. And the rest was just a matter of having trained for a long time.”
“Swimming?”
“Rowing. First single scull. Then coxless pair, then fourman, until I was seventeen, and then I’d had enough.”
“You just trained in the wrong sport.”
“I pedaled and thrashed like an idiot, trying to get out again.”
“Where do you come from?”
“From Potsdam. I was gasping for air till I thought my lungs would fall out. And then almost froze to death. Everything drenched. My neck pouch gone—no money, no papers, everything gone!”
“And all for a married Japanese guy?”
“That’s what you said.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Of course that’s what you said.”
“Oh! I’ve always wanted to get out.”
Adam gave her his last bar of Kinderschokolade.
“Thanks, I’ll save it, for a very rainy day. So you’re going to go on to Budapest now?”
“Have to I’d think.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You saw what happens when you’re left unattended.”
Katja stuffed the wrapper into the empty box. “I feel so stupid for acting the way I did yesterday. Can I tell you something?”
“Fire away. Betray any secret you want.”
“The whole time Elfi made sounds as if trying to calm me. You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Sure, sure I do,” Adam said. “Come on, let’s go. If you want I’ll even carry you.”
“That’d be lovely, at least part of the way.”
They stood up, each grabbing two bottles of water, left the empty boxes lying on the bench, and walked to the car.