The Stranger's Woes

by Max Frei

  One day I was in New York again. I took a short walk around the evening streets of SoHo and stared at the illuminated windows of picture galleries. I felt like having a cappuccino and went to the nearest Italian restaurant. That night everything was a little different. Something had changed in my life, and I liked the change. At least the black-eyed bartender looked at me with an indifferent smile. My face didn’t touch any strings deep in his soul.

  What are you doing here? I thought. How much longer do you think you’re going to be here? Until Mommy calls you back home because the dinner’s ready?

  I laughed with relief. My internal monologue sounded a lot like Sir Max’s confused thoughts. Were we together again?

  Suddenly someone bumped into me, and my barstool started teetering. I couldn’t keep my balance and tumbled off it into the embrace of a nice elderly gentleman. The gentleman wore an elegant gray hat, which was strangely in keeping with his foppish, dark-brown leather jacket.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I was staring at my reflection in the mirror. I can’t decide whether I look like a World War II pilot or not. More likely I just look like a lunatic.”

  I smiled. God only knew what was going on in the head of this eccentric stranger. Nice guy, I thought. I really like him.

  “You knocked me down like a true flying ace, that’s for sure. You can paint another cross on your plane. But you should exchange the hat for a headpiece with goggles.”

  “You’re absolutely right. We pilots don’t wear hats like this. Here, you take it. It’ll go well with your coat,” he said. He took off his hat and placed it on top of my disheveled head.

  I blinked, slightly taken aback. Gosh, I’d forgotten what it was like to be taken aback. It was a strange but, quite frankly, pleasant feeling.

  “Gee” was all I could say.

  The stranger nodded and took a few steps back to enjoy the view.

  “I like it,” he said. “Keep it, young man. This hat suits you. When I left home this morning, my wife told me, ‘Ron, I’m sure you’re going to lose something today, and my premonitions have never failed me. You know that. So go ahead and lose something, but for crying out loud, lose something that’s not worth much.’ Now she’ll be happy because I have fulfilled her wish. Have a nice day, young man. Drink your horrible black drink with cream. I can imagine how much caffeine there is in it.”

  I watched him as he was leaving, and then sat back down on the tall barstool to drink my coffee. The young bartender smiled at me.

  “Ron is an eccentric, like most artists. But he’s a good man,” said the bartender in a conspiratorial tone. “He’s a regular here.”

  “That’s good, because you’ve got great coffee,” I said.

  “Oh, no. He never drinks coffee. Only a little bit of a good wine.”

  “Well, there’s no caffeine in wine, that’s for sure.”

  I paid for my coffee and slid down off the stool. I walked out and found myself in Rome just before dawn. I had come here a few times, to the great joy of the local pigeons, which I fed almost everything that happened to be in my pockets. Did the name of that restaurant have the word Rome in it? I thought. And then I thought that it would be great to get some rest. For the first time during my wanderings I felt tired and sleepy. I sat down on a bench by a fountain and lit up a cigarette. Then, it seems, I dozed off.

  I woke up because I was cold. I looked around and saw that I wasn’t sitting on the bench but standing on a large stone bridge. The cold wind from the river chilled me to my bones. Drat, just a moment ago I was hot, I thought. My coat was way too heavy for taking walks through Rome. Even in the winter it was too warm for the Eternal City.

  Clearly, I wasn’t in Rome. But where was I? The town felt vaguely familiar, especially the cold wind that so resembled the minty wind of Kettari. What if . . . ? I thought.

  But of course I wasn’t in Kettari. I was in Nuremberg. I had been there once, right at the start of my crazy odyssey.

  “I really have to go home now,” I said to a seagull flying past me.

  The bird shouted something back in a harsh, raspy voice. It looked like it was agreeing with me and was saying, “Fine. Scram, then.”

  I unstuck myself from the stone railing and walked slowly across the bridge toward the sad-looking figures, green with age, of beasts guarding the plaque with the name of the bridge. I looked at the plaque and laughed. It turned out I had just been standing on the Max Bridge, or the Bridge of Max, translated literally.

  “It sure is nice to be so popular,” I said to a solemn-looking bronze Chimera. “What don’t they name after me these days!”

  Someone laughed a tinkling laugh behind me. I turned around and froze. There stood Tekki. She looked much older than I remembered her, but I didn’t notice it right away.

  A hurricane of thoughts rushed through my head. Of course, Tekki was the daughter of Loiso Pondoxo himself. She could easily pull a trick like this. But why did she look so old? Had I been away from Echo for that long? How long? I wondered. Two, three hundred years? A thousand?

  I froze in horror. Could it be that the lives of people who at one time couldn’t do without me did somehow go on without me? While I was wasting precious time hanging out in stupid cafés and restaurants, drinking gallons of coffee and absorbing other people’s fears, the people who needed me were living, feeling sad and happy, and dying, without ever having seen me again. Time had played a dirty trick on me. It had carried off all my colleagues, and now everything was over for me, because . . . Because it was not they who couldn’t live without me, but I who couldn’t live without them!

  This was so shocking that it actually did me good. It was like a bracing cold shower for my burning head. The chilly wind from the river dispersed the last remains of the creature that I had, for some reason, been for so long.

  Now I was the Max I had been before. Only the old Max could have sat down on the sidewalk to stare at a beautiful stranger and go all to pieces because he had taken her for a beautiful girl from another World.

  “What are you doing here, Tekki?” I said in a hoarse voice. “And what happened to you?”

  “I’m Theia,” the woman said. “And nothing happened to me. Did you think I was someone else?”

  I was flooded with relief. Of course it wasn’t Tekki. Just a sweet lady, around fifty, who looked a lot like Tekki but was far from being a replica of my beloved.

  “I did think you were someone else,” I said. I wasn’t croaking like a dying goblin anymore. I was squeaking like a buoyant teenager.

  But it was my voice—no two ways about it. And what was even more important, these were my confused feelings. Eternity was no longer holding me hostage. I desperately needed a mirror to make sure that my face was the face of the good old Max. But did it really even matter?

  “I’m sorry, would you happen to have a mirror?”

  I was smiling ear to ear. It was the stupidest smile I could muster—I had tried as hard as I could.

  “I would,” she said.

  “May I have it for a second?”

  The woman rummaged around in her purse for a long time and then handed me a small, chipped pocket mirror. I grabbed it and peered into it. From underneath the brim of the hat given to me by Ron, that funny New York artist, a guy who looked a heck of a lot like Sir Max from Echo was staring back at me. The only thing missing was his turban.

  “Guess what?” I said. “You just saved my life. May I buy you a coffee?”

  Instead of calling the police or trying to run away from a strange, possibly crazy man, this nice woman nodded, shaking her short, curly hair. Her hair was silver, just like Tekki’s, but for another reason. It had been silvered by age.

  “You know,” she said, “I think life costs somewhat more than just a cup of coffee. I insist on a glass of good wine.” She looked at her watch and frowned. “I am running a bit late. But all right, if I’m going to be late, I should be at least thirty minutes late. There’s something small-m
inded about running just five minutes late, don’t you think?”

  “I do,” I said.

  Quite frankly, right now I couldn’t help agreeing with everything.

  “There’s a nice place nearby. Very American. No bouquets with blue-and-white Bavarian ribbons or any of that nonsense.”

  “Sounds great. I’m sorry, what is your name, again?”

  “Theia,” she said, shaking her head. “All right, let’s go before I change my mind. I may be making a big mistake. I still need to visit my friends and say hello to them. I don’t think I’ll have time for more if I want to catch my train to Munich. Isn’t this terrible?”

  “It sure is.”

  My recent agitation was so draining that I had almost lost the ability to speak. I could only meekly agree with whatever she said.

  “This way,” said Theia, turning from the embankment onto a small street with only a few buildings. “We’re here.”

  The place was “very American.” Perhaps too American for my tastes. The design was pure, sterile white. Nothing to feast your eyes on.

  “It’s hard to believe, but they have very good French wine here. The only thing that can tempt me,” said Theia.

  “Great,” I said.

  My head was spinning, and I wasn’t feeling too great overall. I still couldn’t collect my thoughts, even though it was high time I started thinking about how I was going to get back to Echo. I still had no idea.

  “Get yourself some strong coffee,” said Theia. “How long have you been up? Your life, which you say I saved, still seems to be hanging by a thread.”

  “Well, it’s not so bad,” I said. “You’re right, though, I’ve been up for too long. But I’m going to make up for it. I just need to get back home. As soon as I can.”

  “Home?” said Theia. “That’s a very good idea. They’re waiting for you there.” She smelled the wine in her glass.

  I shuddered. She spoke as if Sir Juffin Hully himself had told her in detail just last night about how everyone was waiting for me. No, it couldn’t be.

  The waiter brought me my coffee. Theia finished her wine, lit a cigarette, and looked out the window, lost in thought. Her silence was comfortable and didn’t make me feel at all awkward. Then she looked at her watch again.

  “Now I really must go. Soon I won’t even have to bother going back to the station. My train leaves in less than three hours. Thank you for the wine. It was the most unexpected invitation in my life.”

  “Mine, too,” I said. “But I’m not as crazy as I look.”

  “Who knows?” said Theia, laughing a wonderful laugh. “When I saw you on the bridge you were talking to a stone lion.”

  She waved, walked out, and strode quickly toward the river. I followed her with my eyes. My savior was slightly pigeon-toed, but it suited her. A woman with such beautiful legs could afford to walk however she liked.

  I ordered another coffee and a bottle of mineral water. I wanted to organize my haphazard notes, my report to myself about my life in the Capital of the Unified Kingdom. I felt like kissing every page. These memoirs had kept me from disappearing forever—the notes; and the funny “pilot” Ron, the original owner of the gray hat; and that wonderful Theia, who looked so much like Tekki.

  When I finished sorting out my notes I noticed it had become dark outside. I sighed, ordered more coffee, lit up, and forced myself to think about the most crucial thing at that moment: How was I supposed to get back to Echo?

  Now I felt that this trip was going to be smooth and easy as never before. But what was I to do to find the right door? The door that would lead me to the Corridor between Worlds, to the threshold of my favorite bedroom on the Street of Old Coins? I was exhausted from my wanderings. I wanted to find the right answer on the first try, and I didn’t even know where to start. I wished someone would give me a clue!

  I almost fell off the chair, crushed by a tremendous weight, like a huge, invisible steamroller. I heard the voice of Sir Mackie Ainti in my head.

  Any door opened in darkness will lead you where you want to go. It must be very dark so the visible World doesn’t interfere with the invisible. That’s all. You would have figured it out sooner or later, but I couldn’t bear looking at you sweating over it, partner.

  Mackie! I’m so glad you found me! Don’t disappear now. Please. I’ll endure the strain of talking to you as long as you wish.

  That’s what you think. You’re not in the best shape, partner. So you’d better go home. That’s enough miracles for you.

  I could almost see the smile of compassion hidden behind his thick red mustache.

  The heavy weight gave way to weightlessness. I was sad. Mackie had cut it way too short this time. I never asked him how many years I had been wandering around, and I still desperately needed to know that. But he had told me the most important thing. The only right answer that I would have spent an eternity trying to find.

  All I needed was a door and complete darkness. That was it. It would be easy. I would simply rent a room in a hotel, pull down the curtains, turn off the lights, and all the darkness of the night would be at my service.

  I walked out into the street. My feet took me back to the river. Then I turned right, crossed a narrow lane, stopped by the Old Town Hotel, and rang the doorbell.

  They had a room for me. The contents of my pockets were still in perfect harmony with my needs, so a few moments later I walked up to the third floor and turned the key in the lock. A few dim lights were on in the hallway, so instead of the Corridor between Worlds, I walked into a small square hotel room with a window that took up half the wall. Without turning on the lights, I flopped down in an armchair, closed my eyes, and took a breath.

  I was a few steps away from Echo. I just had to take these last few steps, and tonight I’d be showing Sir Juffin Hully some Tom and Jerry cartoons—the best way to apologize for my sudden disappearance.

  In bewilderment, I looked at my palm, where the storage rack with video equipment and my movie collection was still safely secreted away. How in the World was I supposed to show cartoons to my boss when there were no electrical outlets in Echo? Echo had no electricity! Major bummer.

  I felt like crying from disappointment. My magical gift that I had been carrying around the world was completely useless.

  Then it dawned on me. Ah, my head was still worth something after all. I turned on the lights and looked around. I found two outlets, right by the door. That’s exactly what I need, I thought.

  I shook my left hand and the bulky storage rack landed gently on the floor. I plugged the TV and the VCR into the electrical outlets, pulled down the curtains, returned to the door, and once again hid the storage rack between my thumb and index finger. To my surprise, the trick worked like a charm. It was a little strange to see two black power cords extending from my fist to the municipal power grid. I wonder what it will look like after I leave? I thought. The innocent room cleaners will probably faint when they see two wires disappearing into nowhere. Then again, as Lady Sotofa Xanemer would put it, I wish I had their problems.

  I turned off the lights and pushed open the door to the hallway. The door opened not into the hallway of the hotel but into the Corridor between Worlds. At least that was what Sir Juffin Hully called this strange place that held absolute emptiness in thrall. It was surprisingly easy for me to find the Door into my bedroom on the Street of Old Coins.

  I opened my eyes and looked around. I was lying on the soft, fluffy flooring that served as my bed in my old house on the Street of Old Coins. It was dark, but I could see in the dark no worse than the natives of Uguland.

  Two short black cords were still coming out of my left fist. They vanished into nothingness, but they didn’t look like they had been cut off. They faded away and turned into black misty blurs. The cables restricted my freedom a great deal, so I hurried to shake my hand. The storage rack landed right on my blanket. Well, it looked like there wouldn’t be much room left in the bed. No big deal, considering th
at I wasn’t planning on ever using it for sleeping. There were plenty of places in Echo where I could spend the night, and it would be quite some time before I’d want to travel between Worlds again. At least that was what I thought back then.

  “What’s that you brought with you?” said Juffin.

  I had no idea whether he had just appeared out of nowhere or walked through the door.

  “Juffin! Gosh, am I glad to see you!”

  I was so happy. Then I remembered my recent scare about the caprices of time and decided I had to deal with it once and for all. I had to have the answer immediately.

  “How long have I been away?” My two hearts were beating like crazy.

  “About four dozen days,” said Juffin. “Forty-nine, to be exact. Goodness, Max! I knew that once I turned away for just a moment, you’d go on vacation. That’s so like you. Where were you, if you even know yourself?”

  “Only forty-nine days?” I laughed with relief. “Sinning Magicians! Just forty-nine.”

  “Were you scared?” said Juffin.

  “You bet.”

  My laughter could easily have turned into a sob, so I shut up and did a few breathing exercises courtesy of Sir Lonli-Lokli. I took a few deep breaths and calmed down. I knew I wasn’t going to cry. Not now, anyway.

  “I’ll tell you the whole story, but let’s go somewhere else,” I said. “I’m a little scared to stay in this darn room. What if it decides to take me away again? I desperately need to walk on the multicolored stones of our sidewalks and pavements. And I’ve almost forgotten the taste of kamra. Then we’ll come back here and I’ll show you something you’ve never seen before in your life. You’re going to like it, I promise. But first I need to get outside.”