The German Room
Page 12
The taxi has arrived to take them to the station. Joseph says goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and I watch them get in the car talking happily about things I can’t hear.
V
My last days in Heidelberg were uneventful. The trees in the garden were completely covered in snow and I didn’t go out at all until Friday, when there was nothing left in the kitchen and I had to go grocery shopping to keep from starving to death. I wrapped myself up tight and found a shovel to make a path through the snow piled up at the front door. I walked to the city centre, I bought fruit, vegetables, and bread. At a shop that sold Christmas decorations I bought some bright pink paper flowers that reminded me of Shanice. I decided to take them to the cemetery; I hadn’t been back to visit her grave since the funeral.
A worker by the cemetery gates glanced at my groceries and said people weren’t supposed to go in with food. I showed him the paper flowers and promised I would just be a minute. ‘Just a minute then,’ he repeated.
I retraced the path we took that morning with Shanice’s parents and a few of the students. I set the flowers on the ground and noticed a picture of Shanice propped against her headstone. She looked to be about three or four years old and her parents were holding her hands. I left quickly, keeping my promise.
Once outside, I realised that I hadn’t just wanted to visit Shanice but to look for clues about her mother. I’d spent days frightened she might pop up at any moment but also constantly worried and curious about her. If she’d gone back to Japan, if her husband had come to get her or if she was wandering around alone in this bitter cold. Then I crossed the street and I saw her. Mrs Takahashi was walking with her back to me in her long-sleeved black dress; there she was, safe and sound, moving away from the cemetery. My heart pounded. She’d managed to stay in Heidelberg. I felt the need to know where she’d been staying, what she’d been doing to survive all this time. I sped up so as not to lose sight of her and I followed at a prudent distance. I trailed her for many, many blocks. We passed luxury hotels and modest ones, at each one I thought she was going to stop but I was mistaken. She seemed to be going nowhere. Once we crossed the Neckar I no longer recognised the streets.
I noticed that the air had changed, that a cold wind had started up, carrying with it the smell of tea or burned wood. Lights began to turn on in the doorways as snow dripped slowly from the roofs.
I knew we were reaching the outskirts when the houses became more and more spaced out. The windows had their curtains drawn. A few minutes later there were no houses at all. I thought about turning back. I was still carrying my groceries which were beginning to get too heavy, but my curiosity was too great. When we reached the forest, Mrs Takahashi walked down a slope into the trees. I stopped. I recognised the place, I had the feeling I’d been there many times. I knew that at the bottom of the slope was the lake I used to visit with my father over thirty years ago. I walked a little further and confirmed that it was still there, in the middle of the woods, a frozen lake that looked exactly as it had in my childhood. I hadn’t thought about the place in so many years but the memory came back, sharp and vivid: my father’s blue coat, his warm hand holding mine, the two of us laughing, the smell of ice. I was so distracted by the memory that I lost sight of Mrs Takahashi. But she soon reappeared, crossing the lake with quick short steps. Her black silhouette stood out against the silvery reflections on the surface. When she got to the other side and disappeared among the trees, I stepped onto the ice. My shoes gripped well and I tried to imitate her short confident steps. I felt my lungs fill with the clean fresh air, and I convinced myself it had been a good idea to come here after so many days shut inside. But then I heard a noise, like a moan, a deep sigh that seemed to rise up from the bottom of the lake. I stood still, motionless. I wondered about the sound ice makes before it breaks up. There was no one else around. I saw an animal appear from between the trees and stop at the edge of the lake. It was hard to tell in the dim light but it looked like one of those goats or miniature bison from Mario’s photo. I lowered my head and saw my reflection in the ice, my body larger and heavier than normal and still holding the two grocery bags. Very slowly, I lowered them, setting them down as far away from me as possible. I watched the fruit roll across the ice. Again I heard the moan from beneath my feet. I wished I knew the Hail Mary or any other prayer. I stood still for I don’t know how long, shaking, until the sound stopped and I was able to move to solid ground. I took a few steps into the woods and collapsed on the snow. The animal I’d seen from the other side of the lake reappeared and slowly approached me. It was round, with short legs and two small horns sticking out of its flat forehead. It sniffed me and stared at me with its large wide-set eyes. It made a sound with its snout and leaned toward me. I knew that it wouldn’t hurt me. I was lost, but I was safe. I took a deep breath and clutched the animal to me for warmth. Night fell.
We saw an owl fly from the top of a tree. We saw the clouds part, change shape, and disintegrate in the sky. We saw three other bison appear and watch us from far away.
My new friend stood up very slowly and joined the others. The four of them moved off into the trees. I wished I could stand up and find my way home. But I didn’t have the strength yet. I lay on the ground for a while longer, looking up. The sky was completely clear and it began to fill with stars.
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Copyright
First published by Charco Press 2018
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Copyright © Carla Maliandi 2017 (by agreement with Mardulce Editora)
English translation copyright © Frances Riddle 2018
This book was originally published in Spanish as La habitación alemana (2017)
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Book published with funding from the ‘Sur’ Translation Support Programme of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Argentina / Obra editada en el marco del Programa ‘Sur’ de Apoyo a las Traducciones del Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores y Culto de la República Argentina.
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