Marija Peričić - The Lost Pages

Another thing that failed to perturb me at that time was Theodor’s misapprehension of my relationship with Franz. Theodor appeared to be under the impression that Franz and I were particular friends, and that I had some great influence over him. I never replied to Theodor’s letters; not out of ill will, but only because with Anja in my life I hardly had time to give them a thought. In light of this I was not greatly surprised to receive a visit from Theodor at the post office one morning. To my relief, he seemed to have completely forgotten about Schopenhauer and my deadline. Instead, almost as soon as he had sat down, he asked me about Franz, talking as if the two of us were intimates. But I had not heard from Franz since the long-ago evening of the reading, and I told Theodor as much.

‘He’s probably left Prague for a holiday,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps he’s ill.’ Really, I did not care. I wondered whether Theodor would start pressing me about Schopenhauer.

‘No, no. That’s not it.’ Theodor shook his head. ‘I’ve sent messages to his work. I know he’s there; they just refuse to let me in.’

He sounded so much like a jilted lover that I almost felt sorry for him.

‘I’d like to invite you to dinner,’ Theodor said. ‘And Franz, of course. Actually, the dinner is for Franz. Your role would be to persuade him to attend.’

This was a ludicrous suggestion.

‘But I haven’t seen the man for weeks,’ I protested. ‘He could be dead for all we know.’

Theodor looked stricken at this suggestion.

‘I’m relying on you,’ he said.

A dinner with Theodor and Franz was the last thing I wanted.

‘I think you will find that, if you see to it that he is there, I might be inclined to extend the deadline on Schopenhauer—the one that you have repeatedly missed.’

The sly fox. Of course I had to agree.

I tried to contact Franz, but, predictably, I could not reach him. I did not feel particularly worried. I could only do so much after all. I put a note in my calendar to remind myself of the dinner, and then forgot all about it.

The following week, I came home from work one day, my head full of thoughts of Anja as usual, and found another letter from Theodor. I knew without opening it what it would contain: a reminder about the dinner, now only a few days away, along with some insults about my own laziness perhaps. I absent-mindedly put the letter in my pocket, where it remained until the next evening, when it tumbled out as I was looking for a handkerchief. I tore the envelope open and gave its contents a desultory glance. [10] The letter has been located among the papers, but water damage has rendered it illegible. The letter began as I had expected, with a reminder about the dinner followed by another reminder that the deadline for my book was long past. But what came next made my eyes widen in surprise. Theodor then threatened to drop my Schopenhauer book if I did not produce Franz at the dinner.

At first I thought that it must be a joke, but the signature at the bottom was without a doubt Theodor’s. I read the letter again with shaking hands. Theodor must have lost his mind. All the serenity of the past weeks melted away in an instant. Without my writing, what was left to me? I had Anja, it was true, but how long could I expect to keep her with nothing to recommend myself? I would be no one, my broken body the only notable thing about me. I grew numb inside when I saw how easily Theodor would cast me aside in favour of Franz.

The dinner was still two days away, but it was already past nine o’clock in the evening. I knew that it was probably too late to call on Franz, but I put on my hat anyway and went in search of him. I had only a vague idea of his address, but there were one or two places where I thought it might be possible to find him. First I went to the Europa café, which was crowded and smoky, but Franz was not there. Next I tried the beer cellar at the Gemeindehaus where we had drunk together those long weeks ago. Franz was not there either. I looked in at the Café Slavia and at the Arco, but no Franz. I knew he worked at the Workers’ Accident and Insurance Institute in the Old Town, but of course that would be closed at this hour. I toyed with the idea of going there and leaving a note for him to find the next day, but in the end my tiredness won out. In the morning, I told myself, and went home to bed.

I had expected to have a sleepless night of worry, but instead I slipped off immediately into a quiet, dreamless darkness. I became conscious again because of a persistent warmth on my face. It was the sun, burning through the window; I had neglected to draw the curtain the night before. I was lying awkwardly splayed across the bed, and had a raging thirst and a throbbing head, as though I had spent the previous night drinking. I rolled out of bed, and when I looked at my watch I saw that I had overslept, something that had never happened before. It was past ten o’clock. I cursed Elsa, who invariably woke me if I had not emerged by eight.

I pulled on my clothes hastily and hurried out of the house. I had planned to stop at Franz’s workplace on my way to the post office. Franz worked in Poříčer Strasse, and to pass by there would add perhaps twenty minutes to my journey, not counting the time I would spend talking to him. I was already so late that I supposed another half an hour would be of no consequence. Luck, however, was not on my side that morning, for almost the first person I encountered in the street was my boss, Herr Jelen. When I saw him I froze in shock, wondering whether I should try to explain myself. I decided it would be more prudent to remain silent to make it appear that everything was in order.

I had little to do directly with Jelen, but Kröner and Stephanie lived in awe of him, and a mere glimpse of him walking past the office was enough to send them scurrying about their tasks twice as quickly as was usual. Jelen was a very large man, with every part of his body seeming to have been scaled up. Each one of his thighs was the size of a small man’s torso, and his pink fingers were surmounted by monstrous nails like coins. His head was at least double the size of mine and his meaty neck seemed to strain under the weight of it. I had always privately thought that his large stature was the chief reason for his effectiveness as a leader. Proximity to his bulk produced a visceral subservience in the most intractable of workers.

He looked mildly surprised to see me out at that hour, but did not question me, and instead fell into step beside me and remarked politely on the weather. He was clearly on his way to the post office, but the way to Poříčer Strasse lay in a different direction. Up ahead I could see the Königshofergasse, which I would need to take to get to Poříčer Strasse. Could I risk simply taking leave of him? I wildly thought up different excuses I might make for parting ways, but Jelen’s great mass was looming over me, blocking out the sun and seeming to pull me gravitationally in his wake; at the crucial moment my courage failed me and the necessary street sailed past without me turning into it. I glanced down it longingly. The early afternoons in the office were often quiet in any case, I reassured myself. Surely I could escape for an hour unnoticed then.

What was left of the morning passed quickly, and in my lunch hour I slipped out of the building and took the tram to Poříčer Strasse.

My journey, however, was in vain. Just as Theodor had said, the head clerk at the insurance office refused to confirm whether Franz was there, let alone allow me in. Frustrated, I stood outside the street door for a while, watching the crowds in case I might spot Franz coming back from his lunch hour, but I had no luck. I hastily scribbled a note and left it with the silent head clerk with a request that he pass it on to Franz, and then I made my way back to the post office.