Hugo Hamilton - Disguise

Thorsten tells them that the lake contains a rare species of crayfish which goes to prove how pure it is. Swimming in mineral water, Martin responds, before he spins away in a fierce, one-man race to the far side.

And Gregor with his long indoor limbs, disrobing himself of all that time spent in half-lit, smoky jazz clubs, all the anonymity of public spaces and air-conditioned interiors. He removes his clothes as well as all that long accumulation of solitude. He immerses himself into this quiet baptism of belonging, with his goat-like genitals dangling low between his thin legs, visible from behind as much as from the front as he sinks down into this sacred, unspoiled font. A scraggy, elongated, soft leather sack which has carried his testicles around the world and a circumcised penis, dipping cautiously into the lake. The water like a cool hand fondling before he turns and throws himself on his back.

They have rediscovered the lightness of their true nature, this half-human species of people-fish. They have returned to water as though to a primal memory, to the outer limits of their freedom. They swim and float and remember and move on, with the clear water washing away all catastrophes gone by and yet to come.

When they have finished swimming, Mara spreads the tea towel on the ground and shares out slices of cake. The smell of coffee rises up to overpower the scent of the lake and the earth around them. They eat the tart, with a fault line of marzipan in the middle and wild berries on top. They sit gazing across the lake, at the insects buzzing. The wasps are back as well, alerted by the smell of cake. Martin lights a cigarette to fight them off and Johannes watches the smoke rising and dipping as it veers across the water.

They have come to a standstill. There is an afternoon courtesy in the silence, to all things growing and resting around them.

Thorsten talks about how he and Katia went up to the Baltic coast for a few days. He speaks with great enthusiasm about their trip, with Johannes listening, remembering everything for himself. He says they went to Rostock and then took an old steam train across to Heiligendamm. It was wonderful to look out at the sea and there were some great fish restaurants where they ate in the evening.

‘Very windy up there on the coast,’ he says.

After a pause, Daniel talks about how he and Juli went to visit friends in Jena recently. He says they woke up in the morning and stepped out onto the balcony and found dozens of police trucks lining the street, with hundreds of policemen in riot gear below their window.

‘Sounds familiar,’ Mara says.

‘They were like gladiators,’ Daniel says.

‘I hope you never get into combat with them,’ Gregor says. ‘Your head is no match for those truncheons, take it from me.’

‘Didn’t do us that much harm,’ Martin laughs.

Mara pours the remains of the coffee.

‘Police everywhere,’ Daniel continues. ‘On the main square we saw a big crowd of anti-fascist protesters.’

‘Counter-protesters,’ Juli says. ‘They were demonstrating against a crowd of neo-Nazis.’

‘This part of the country needs time to adjust,’ Thorsten puts in.

‘They’re everywhere,’ Katia says. ‘Believe me. It’s nothing but thug pride.’

‘Funny,’ Daniel says. ‘Less than a hundred neo-Nazis, four times that many anti-fascists, and about five times that many policemen in riot gear.’

‘They’re like an endangered species,’ Martin says.

‘That’s what you think,’ Juli says. ‘I find it very scary.’

‘I got a photograph of one of them,’ Daniel adds, ‘giving us the finger.’

‘That’s scary all right,’ Martin remarks.

‘Don’t be an asshole,’ Juli snaps.

‘He’s only joking,’ Mara says.

‘It’s not the Third Reich coming back, Daniel,’ Martin says. ‘The past is not fixed. It keeps changing. Look at how everything has changed since the Wall came down. And 9/11. Nothing is the same since 9/11, since America lost its two front teeth.’

‘That’s the problem with you people,’ Daniel says, getting up. ‘You’re more afraid of the past than you are of the future.’

‘We have to protect the past,’ Martin says.

‘I’ll tell you what’s scary,’ Juli says, joining Daniel and turning round to face Martin once more. ‘On the train going back, two of them got on and started yelling abuse at our Sudanese friend. We were very lucky the police got on and threw them off.’

Daniel and Juli begin to walk away.

‘I’ll give you a hand in the kitchen,’ Martin calls after them.

Daniel has agreed to take on the cooking for the evening. The rest pick themselves up and pack everything together, then drift back slowly in small groups. Johannes carrying the basket and Gregor carrying the towels, talking to each other about dinosaurs. Mara walking barefoot at first, then stopping to put on her shoes while Martin whips the air with a stick, leaving Thorsten and Katia lying alone on their blanket for a while longer in the evening sun, both facing towards the lake, their bodies hooked into each other and his arm across her belly.

By the time Gregor was seventeen years of age, he was convinced that there was no resemblance between himself and his parents. He had examined all the family photographs and studied himself in the mirror many times. He had brown eyes. He was tall. He had become a giant, a monster belonging to a different species. What began as a normal suspicion in the minds of many children at a certain age, had become a raging obsession.

He started rooting through his mother’s possessions looking for more evidence. All the contents of her life stashed away in her dressing table. Broken watches, old reading glasses, garter clips, concert tickets, odd jewellery, single earrings kept in the hope that the match would turn up. Outdated medication. Discoloured packets of sleeping tablets. A strange instrument with which he once saw his mother sanding off dead skin from her foot. He discovered things without knowing much about their provenance, items with no story attached. He didn’t know what he was looking for and even when he found something worthwhile, he didn’t understand the significance.

Until he came across the letters from Uncle Max.

The letters were polite and restrained. Even in writing, this old man was full of silence. The early letters expressed a wish to come and visit, asking about Gregor and how he was doing. In one of the letters, Uncle Max said he was too ill to work in the foundry any more and had taken up a part-time job in a bookshop. A more recent letter said he had given up the job in the bookshop as well.

Gregor was convinced these banal words contained some hidden message, as long as he read carefully. But it was only the last letter that revealed anything, an apology. Uncle Max said it had not been his intention to hurt anyone. It was a letter of farewell, acknowledging his mistake. He wished them well and said he would not intrude on their lovely family again. And finally, something that made Gregor even more curious.

‘ Maria, please believe me. I did not tell them anything. ’

He read these words over and over again. What did Uncle Max want her to believe? And what did he not tell? The words had a begging tone, desperate for an answer.

‘ Please, let me hear from you, Maria. I can’t sleep until you tell me that you believe me. ’

It took Gregor some time to work up the courage to pursue this. But instead of asking his mother, he decided to visit Uncle Max. He had always been afraid of him and unable to interpret those silences from the past. Afraid to ask him questions. Convinced there was some information being held back from him, but still unable to ask the right questions. He needed to speak to Uncle Max alone, without the presence of his mother in the background. He copied the sender address on the back of the last envelope, took his bicycle from the shed very early one morning after his school holidays arrived and rode away from the house without looking back.