Translated by Judith Orban
We could have been happy if only we had met. The day on which we didn’t meet was fine. Pouring rain at a time when only the rain was holding sky and earth together. You took refuge in a café, I too sat at a window in the warmth. It was the season of grog and gingerbread. We played at telling our future fortunes by pouring the molten wax of the candle on the table into water. The future consisted of flat red bloblets floating on the surface of a glass of mineral water. A woman crossed the room with small steps, holding a brimming cup with both hands. It was beautiful.
Even as children we had similar interests. I gathered snails off paths so they wouldn’t crack like hollow hazelnuts under the shoes of walkers. You rescued frogs into which neighbourhood kids had stuck straws to blow them up. We liked to stand in the corner, we liked the fashions of the decade just past, we were interested in big fat books, and particularly enjoyed saying things no one understood. So we both became objects of people’s derision. That’s the best prerequisite for lifelong happiness together.
You were my type, I was yours. Both of us blue-eyed with dark hair, an unusual combination. Because we were shorter than average, we liked to take holidays in Asia. Birds of a feather flock together. We loved long walks and quiet evenings at home. Out of timidity we preferred most of all to be by ourselves. We had difficulties getting to know people, and it’s particularly important to be in agreement on such a sensitive issue. But neither did we ignore the fact that opposites attract. That’s why you were male and I was female. We didn’t have any problems with that. We had been brought up to be tolerant.
Like all true lovers we drew closer to each other in a roundabout way. We were young and nervous. We didn’t want to hang around waiting for life to begin. You slept with a bewitching peroxide-blonde hairdresser, I possessed a hearing-aid technician. Soon the blonde was merely a hairdresser, and my acoustic technician took deafness to be an economic blueprint. All the while we knew we were destined for something else. For being the knight in shining armour and the princess in the tower. For each other. For happiness. The days provided distraction, the nights consisted of waiting. Longing taught us to believe in true love. We liked to think of each other, particularly while masturbating.
We also had some hard times. I grew flabby around the hips, your hair turned grey. How were we to recognise each other in this condition? A long succession of days passed in bitter silence. When the sun shone brightly we cursed as we looked into the mirror. The weather should not be lovelier than the person, when everything else – as we all know – is so relative. But the hate faded away, I knew you so well. Your despair was the salt in my soup. My suffering was the sugar in your tea. Your thoughts were mine. We had learned it was inner values that mattered – and just how much they did.
Once I almost lost you. It was winter yet again, the whole city was treading on thin ice. You were widowed, I was divorced, snow pelted us with light from all sides. You were crossing the street on which I was driving. I was singing a love song along with the eight o’clock news on the radio when a flash of light from your glasses hit my retina. My hearing aid stopped working, your cry was lost in silence. You bent down behind some parked cars to search for your cane. The road ahead of me was empty. By a hair’s breadth – I tell you, my darling – I just missed hitting you by a hair’s breadth. For years I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something strange had happened.
We grew old together. For a long time already sex had become irrelevant. We took pleasure in cake and falling leaves. Our rooms were pungent with the aroma of the past. The cleaning lady came once a week and mopped the floors. On her raised flowered buttocks I saw a hilly spring meadow, you didn’t see anything any more. Together we were the lame, the blind, the dumb and the deaf rolled into one person. We understood each other without words. We fingered similar photos, we ate the same porridge. Outside our dingy windows migratory birds revealed the future in ever identical formations.
A great love conquers all obstacles. Great love shies away from nothing. On that very day when we didn’t meet each other we were sitting in different cafés. The future consisted of flat red bloblets floating on the surface of a glass of mineral water. A woman crossed the room with small steps, holding a brimming cup with both hands. As so often, my beloved, we had something in common. You remained alone, I remained alone. But I don’t even care about that. For time and again, day after day, my whole life long, I shall forgive you.