The Piano Teacher

by Elfriede Jelinek

  Walter Klemmer smashes his right fist, not too hard and not too soft, into Erika’s belly. She tumbles back again after standing upright. Erika huddles over, pressing her hands into her abdomen. This is the stomach. The man managed to do it without straining himself. He is not at odds with himself. On the contrary, he has never been so intensely at one with himself. He jeers at her: Where are her cords and ropes? And where are her chains? I’m only executing your orders, madame. Now gags and straps can’t help you, mocks Klemmer, who produces the effects of gags and straps without using such aids. Numbed by liqueur, Mother drums her fists on the door. She doesn’t know what’s happening to her, she doesn’t know what to do. She is also nervous because she doesn’t know what’s happening to her daughter. A mother can see without seeing. She didn’t oversee her child’s freedom, and now someone else is heedlessly mishandling that freedom. From now on, I’ll keep watch twice as carefully, Mother promises herself, hoping the young man will leave something still worth supervising. She finally twisted the child into shape, and now someone else is twisting her again. Mother is raging.

  Meanwhile, Klemmer is laughing his head off at the flesh he has twisted: At your age, you’d better say good night! Erika weeps, citing the things they have experienced and suffered during lessons. She pleads: Don’t you remember the differences between sonatas? He makes fun of men who put up with anything from women. That’s not the kind of man he is. She’s gone much too far. She’s generally far gone—where are her whips and restraints now? Klemmer gives her a choice: either you or me. His solution is: me. But you’re resurrected in my hatred, the man comforts her. Maltreating her head, which is poorly shielded by her arms, he tosses her a hard tidbit: If you weren’t a victim, you couldn’t become one! He asks her what’s going to happen with her marvelous letter. No answers are necessary.

  Mother, behind the bedroom door, expects the worst for her private one-person zoo. Erika, weeping, lists all the good things she’s done for the student, her tireless efforts in training his musical taste and perfecting his musical abilities. Bawling, Erika mentions the benefits of her love—an extra assignment for the man and the student. She tries to gain control. Only naked power prevents her. The man is stronger. Erika foams and fumes: He can only control her with brute force. For which she is hit twice and thrice.

  In Klemmer’s hatred, the woman suddenly grows out freely like a tree. This tree is pruned and clipped and has to learn to take it. A hand numbly smacks a face. Behind the door, Mother doesn’t know what’s happening, but “she is so agitated that she joins in the weeping. She wishes she could take one of her countless trips to the half-emptied liqueur cabinet. She cannot call for help: The telephone is in the hallway, unreachable.

  Klemmer jeers at Erika about her age: A woman in her condition has nothing to expect from him in regard to love. He was only pretending, he never cared for her, it was just a scientific experiment. Klemmer thus denies his honorable needs. And where are your famous ropes now? He slices the air as if with a razor. She should stick to men her own age or older, he proposes, as he disposes of her. Klemmer strikes away at her aimlessly. His rage did not seek the opportunity to inflict evil or injustice. Quite the contrary. His rage was formed, gradually but thoroughly, by his falling in love. After a detailed investigation, Erika showed this man the appreciation of her love, and bang! What happens?

  If he is to advance in love and emotion, he has to destroy the woman who actually laughed at him when she had the upper hand! She expected him to tie her, gag her, rape her, she demanded it, and now she’s getting her just deserts. Just scream, Klemmer demands, just scream. The woman weeps loudly. Behind the door, the woman’s mother weeps too. She doesn’t even know why.

  Erika, bleeding slightly, curls up like an embryo, and the work of destruction progresses. In Erika, the man sees many other women he wanted to get rid of. He snaps the words in her face. He’s still young. I have my whole life ahead of me. Yes, now it’s really gonna be great! After I graduate, I’m gonna take a long vacation abroad. He holds out the bait, then yanks it back: I’m going alone! No one can claim you’re young, can they, Erika? If he’s young, she’s old. If he’s a man, she’s a woman. Walter Klemmer whimsically kicks her in the ribs as she lies on the floor. He doses the violence out so carefully that nothing breaks. He has always controlled his own body, at least. Walter Klemmer steps across Erika, a threshold, out into freedom. She brought this on by trying to control him and his desires. This is what she gets.

  He has a dark sense, a presentiment, about this woman. She loudly disapproves of his hatred, but only because she has to suffer from it physically. She yells and starts begging in disorderly words. Mother hears her yell and yells along in numb fury. The man might not leave anything worth controlling in the daughter. Furthermore, Mother is animated by animal fear that something is happening to her child. She is driven to kick against the door and threaten. But this door yields less than her child’s willpower did ages ago. Mother utters fears that cannot be heard through the door. She shrieks horrible threats about forced entry. She reminds her daughter of the prophesied consequences of male love, but the daughter doesn’t hear. The daughter, weeping unrestrainedly, is kicked in the belly. Klemmer’s actions pleasurably roll across female disapproval. Klemmer is delighted that he can ignore their disapproval. The man wants to snuff out everything that Erika was, but it’s not working. Erika keeps reminding him of what she used to be for him. I beg you, she begs.

  Behind the door, Mother expresses the fear that the child, in fear of the man, will cringe and cower. Besides, her body could be injured. Mother is worried about the old pod of her own body. She implores God and His son. Since any loss would be definitive, Mother is scared she may lose her daughter. Long years of arduous training would be gone with the wind. The training would be replaced by new feats with the man. Mother will brew some tea once she can get out and someone wants tea. She squeals something about revenge! About reporting this to the authorities! Erika blubbers over a chasm of love. The chasm points out that her written requests struck the man as too frivolous. It tells her that his failure was too humiliating. She’s been going out in public thinking she was the best. But once she was exposed to the public, her part in its life proved very minor. And soon it will be too late.

  Erika lies on the floor, the hallway runner sliding out beneath her. She says please don’t. Her letter doesn’t deserve such punishment. Klemmer is unleashed, but Erika is not leashed. The man casually hits her and mordantly asks: Well, where’s your letter now? This is all you get. He boasts that he doesn’t have to tie her up, as she can see for herself. He asks her whether the letter can help her now. While hitting her lightly, Klemmer tells the woman that this is exactly what she wanted. Erika tearfully protests that this isn’t what she wanted, she wanted something different. Well then you’ll have to express yourself more carefully next time, the man replies. Kicking her, he demonstrates the simple equation: I am I. And I’m not ashamed. I’m behind me one hundred percent. He threatens the woman: She has to take him just as he is. I am as I am. Erika’s nose is broken; so is one of her ribs. She buries her face in her hands, and Klemmer tells her, That’s right, your face isn’t so great, is it? There are more attractive faces, says the specialist, waiting for the woman to say there are also more unattractive ones. Her nightgown has slid down, and Klemmer thinks about raping her. But, to show his scorn for female sex appeal, he says: First I have to drink a glass of water. He lets Erika know that he is less attracted to her than a bear to a hollow tree trunk in which the bees are still residing. Erika caught his eye with musical accomplishments, not beauty. And now she can simply wait a couple of minutes. I’ve solved the problem in my own way; the engineering student is satisfied. Mother curses. Erika thinks about escaping. She is used to thinking, not acting. Always hermetically sealed, she has never captured a prize.

  In the kitchen, water runs for a long time. The man likes his water cold. He is fully aware that his actions can
have consequences. He is a man, and he accepts the consequences. The water has a slight taste of malaise. She’ll have to suffer the consequences too, he thinks more joyously. His piano lessons are obviously terminated. So he can really devote himself to athletics. Nothing is agreeable to anyone here present. Nonetheless, something must be done. No one attempts reconciliation. Klemmer listens, to hear whether the woman is willing to assume at least part of the blame. You’re at least partly to blame, you’ve got to admit it, Klemmer admits to the woman. You can’t get someone all turned on and then turn everything off. If a person feels too good, then you can’t just close the gate. Klemmer furiously kicks the door of a magic closet with unknown contents. The door springs open, unexpectedly revealing a garbage can with a plastic liner. The shock wave makes the topmost garbage come hippety-hopping out; various items are distributed over the kitchen floor. Mainly bones. There is burned meat in a pan. Klemmer involuntarily laughs. Outside, his laughter hurts the woman. She suggests that we can talk about everything, please. She is already publicly accepting part of the blame. As long as he’s here, there’s hope. Please don’t go away.

  She wants to get up but can’t. She falls back. From behind her barricade, which she didn’t put up, Mother screams at her daughter! What’s happening to you? The daughter tells her everything’s all right. Everything’s being taken care of. The daughter begs the man to let Mommy out. Crying “Mama,” Erika crawls over to the door, and Mother calls Erika’s name louder from behind the door. In the same breath, Mother utters a curse, as is her wont.

  Klemmer has been fortified by cold water. He has been somewhat cooled off by cold water. Erika has almost reached Mother’s door, but is then thrown back by the student. Again she begs him: Not on her head or her hands. Klemmer tells her he can’t go out in this condition, he would only frighten the people he meets. It’s all her fault that he’s in such a state—just be a little nice to me, Erika. Please. He now rages across her, full speed ahead. He licks her face and asks for love. Who else but a loving woman can give him love more generously, and with fewer conditions? Asking for love, he opens himself by opening his fly. Asking for love and understanding, he resolutely penetrates the woman. He energetically demands his right to affection, a right that anyone can have, even the worst people. Klemmer, one of the worst, bores around inside Erika. He awaits a moan of pleasure from her. Erika feels nothing. Nothing comes. Nothing happens. It’s either too late or too early. The woman openly avows that she seems to be the victim of deception, because she feels nothing. The core of this love is annihilation. She hopes that she loves him, Klemmer wishes that she loved him. Klemmer lightly hits Erika’s face to evoke a moan. At heart, he doesn’t care why she moans. Erika wishes for desire, but she desires nothing and feels nothing. She therefore begs the man to stop right away! Hitting her harder, with the palm of his hand, amid tiring requests for love, he turns his actions into a process of violence. An extreme mountain climbing. The woman does not submit cheerfully, but the man wants her to surrender voluntarily. He has no need to force a woman. He yells at her to receive him joyfully! He sees her unmoved face on which his presence leaves only one stamp: pain. Does that mean I might as well go? asks Klemmer, while beating her. He is performing his personal best for this woman, so he can finally get rid of his lust. Once and for all, as he threatens her. Erika whimpers, begging him to stop, because it hurts. Purely out of laziness or indolence, Klemmer cannot withdraw from the woman before he is done. He asks: Love me. He licks and beats her alternately. He is red with anger as he puts his head to hers. Mother wishes it were over. She bangs on the door like a machine gun. Ignoring the neighbors, she shoots rapid-fire. Klemmer increases his speed; he’s moving very fast. He does not shoot over his target, he hits the bull’s-eye. The champion has done it again.

  He quickly cleans himself with a tissue, then throws the wet clump on the floor next to Erika. He advises her not to tell anyone. For her own good. He apologizes for his behavior. He explains his behavior by saying he just couldn’t help it. Things like that happen to a guy. He makes some vague promise to Erika, who remains lying on the floor. I’m in a hurry: The man demands forgiveness in his way. I have to go now: The man offers the woman love and veneration in his way. If he had a single red rose, he would give it to Erika on the spot. He departs with a stock phrase: “Well, so long.” He checks the hallway table, looking for the key to the front door. It’s not such a good thing—two women so alone with each other. That’s his advice for better living. He tugs at Erika’s reins. She ought to think about the generation gap as objectively as possible! Klemmer suggests that Erika should circulate more, if not with him then on her own. He offers to escort her to functions to which he knows he’d never take her. He confesses: Well, that’s it. Out of sheer curiosity, he asks her whether she’d ever try this sort of thing again with a man. He supplies himself with the only logical answer: No thanks. He reaches into the treasure trove of the past: Don’t start anything you can’t finish. And then he laughs. He has to laugh: You see, that’s what happens. He advises her: Be careful! She ought to play a record now to calm down. This is a long goodbye, he’s repeated it several times. He asks if anything’s wrong, then answers his own question: Don’t worry! By the time you get married, everything will be just fine and dandy. Drawing on popular wisdom, Klemmer peers into the future. He has to go home unkissed, but, on the other hand, did he ever kiss! He does not leave without remuneration. He has received his due. And the woman certainly got what was coming to her. What you see is what you get. That’s Klemmer’s reaction to Erika after Erika failed to respond physically to him.

  He bounds down the steps, unlocks the front door, and throws the key back inside, on the floor. The tenants are left unprotected behind an unlocked door while Klemmer goes his own way. Ambling along, he decides he will glare impudently or arrogantly at any passersby. Today he will be a living provocation and burn his bridges behind him. He flips over on the parallel bar of self-assurance: The two women are not going to waste any words about what happened—for their own sakes. He weighs possible carrying costs and interest payments, but only briefly.

  There are no more cars out, and if one were to come along, Klemmer’s youthful reflexes would help him. You just resolutely jump aside. Young and quick, Klemmer can face anyone! He says: Tonight I could tear trees out with my bare hands! He is very glad that he feels a lot better now than before. He pisses powerfully against a tree. He deliberately allows only positive thoughts to pass through his brain: That is the entire secret of his success. You see, his brain is a one-way brain! You use and then you snuff. Klemmer doesn’t want to drag any heavy weights around; that’s his resolution. He walks in the middle of the street: a challenge.

  The new day finds Erika alone but covered with the bandages and poultices of maternal solicitude. Erika could have started this day with the man. She now meets the day ill prepared. No one appeals to the authorities to have Klemmer arrested. The weather, however, is beautiful. Mother remains unusually silent. Now and then, she tosses a well-meant ball, but never gets it into the basket, which she has hung much too high, all because of her daughter. For years, she kept hanging the hoop a bit higher and a bit higher still. Now you can barely see it.

  Mother announces that her daughter should circulate more, get to know new places and new faces. At her age, it’s high time. Mother calculates for her tongue-tied child: It’s not good for you to stay with an old lady like me all the time, you’re so young and exuberant. Given Erika’s lack of knowledge about people, which she has just demonstrated, Erika has missed the mark for the second time this year. Mother discusses what is good for Erika. The fact that Erika realizes it too is the first step toward self-knowledge. There are other men, Mother anxiously comforts her about the nebulous future. Erika remains silent, not unamiably so. Mother is afraid that Erika is thinking now, and she expresses her fear. A person who doesn’t speak could easily be thinking. Mother demands that Erika reveal her thoughts, rather than let
them eat into her. If Erika thinks anything, she has to tell Mother, to keep her informed. Mother is scared of silence. Is her daughter vindictive? Will she dare talk back?

  The sun rises over dusty wastes. Red washes the building fronts. Trees have covered themselves with green. They decide to become decorative. Plants set buds in order to put in their two cents. People move around in all this. Speech bubbles out of their mouths.

  A lot of things hurt in Erika, and she moves cautiously, gingerly. Her bandages aren’t always snug, but they’ve been put on lovingly. The morning could inspire Erika to find a reason why she has sealed herself off from everything all these years. In order to emerge grandly from behind the walls one day and surpass everyone else! Why not now? Today? Erika puts on an old dress in the outdated short style. The dress isn’t as short as other dresses were back then. The dress is too tight; it doesn’t close in back. It is completely outmoded. Mother doesn’t like the dress either; it’s too short and too tight for her taste. Erika is busting out all over.