Miriam Toews - All My Puny Sorrows

That’s true, Elf said.

Well there was this tramp, or — do you call them hobos?

Do you know that hobo is an acronym for Homeward Bound? I said to Elf.

Yes, she said. From Woody Guthrie. I’m surprised that you know that.

I also know that there’s a Hobo Museum in Britt, Ohio, I said. I love reading their newsletter, especially posts from Nowhere Man and Mad Mary. When somebody dies they say he caught the Westbound.

Elf smiled. Curious, she said.

Hm, well, Claudio pressed on, I look down at the man who is just sitting there on the riverbank staring at the water, at the sky, at the things around him. He’s holding a can of beer. Then he gets up and picks up an empty bottle lying next to him and walks down one cement stair that goes right into the river, the bottom of his pants are getting wet, and he looks around as if he’s making sure nobody is watching. I thought he was going to jump in and drown himself, but he didn’t go any farther. He leaned over and filled the bottle with some of the river water. Then he went back and sat down again, where he was. I was so relieved. My heart was pounding while I was watching all this from the bridge. But then I thought, oh dear, he’s going to drink the river water — but he doesn’t. He simply sits there for a while, with his beer can and the bottle with the river water, and stares some more. Then slowly he takes the bottle and pours a little bit of it into his beer can. And then he drinks from the beer can. I was watching this and I thought, how awful, don’t drink it. Of course he did, and for whatever reason it upset me deeply and I wanted to get out of Budapest.

He drank the river water? said Elf.

Yes, he added the dirty river water to his beer to make it last longer, Claudio said.

And you thought that was pathetic? said Elf.

Yes, just terribly sad.

He could have drowned himself instead, I said. Do you think that would have been better?

Of course not, but I certainly didn’t want him to have to drink river water.

Well, said Elf, I guess he made—

Yeah, a choice, I said. I get it. I think that he shouldn’t have had to make that choice.

I don’t want to drink the river water, said Elf.

I’d rather drink the river water than drown in it, I said.

I understand that, said Elf.

So you’re saying you have pride and I don’t and that a person with deep character, integrity, all that, would absolutely throw himself in before he resorted to drinking river water? What about the courage you need to understand and accept that you need the beer and you have to make it last longer? What about the grace you require in order to accept the gift of life?

Claudio apologized and said he hadn’t meant to upset us, it was only something he saw.

Elf said she had let everyone down.

Not at all, said Claudio. All the musicians already have other, what do you say, gigs and everyone sends you their love … Antanas, and Otto and Ekko and Bridget and Friedrich.

How is Friedrich?

Oh, the same, trouble with women, money … Claudio laughed but looked stricken.

Is everybody very upset with me?

Of course not! I’m taking care of everything, Elfrieda. You needn’t give it another thought. We’ve got insurance for these things, as you know, it’s nothing more than a small inconvenience, and one that is of no real concern in the grand scheme of things. He made a gesture. Pfft. Non è niente . He offered a few more reassurances and then said he had better go. He had to get back to the airport. When he leant to kiss Elfrieda on two cheeks she grabbed him for a hug.

I’ll walk you out, I said.

Ciao, Claudio, Elf said, and it sounded like a sob. Ciao, ciao.

Claudio and I stood in the hallway next to a large canvas sack filled halfway with bloody sheets.

Let’s walk a bit? I said. He put his arm around my shoulder briefly and asked me how I was, really.

Oh, don’t ask, I said. I’ll cry. But thanks. How are you? Let’s go down to the main floor.

Well, considering … I’m so sorry, Yolandi, I’m just sick over this.

Yeah … She’ll probably be okay, I said. I mean not for the tour but—

No, I suppose not, said Claudio. What a shame. I mean for her, for everybody.

Yeah.

Anyway, Yolandi, you needn’t bother yourself with it. As you know, Elfrieda and I have been through many trials and it is to be expected. It’s nothing.

Sì. Va bene .

Ah, you would like to speak Italian?

No. I mean yes, but …

No, no, I understand, he said.

We walked slowly past doors with numbers on them. In one doorway an old woman in a nightgown stood clutching a large round clock. She had a green handbag wedged under one arm. What time is it? she asked us.

I’m sorry? said Claudio.

What time is it? she said. She showed us her clock.

It’s nearly half past four, said Claudio.

What? she said. What?

It’s four-thirty, I said.

It’s four-thirty? she said. It’s four-thirty!

Yes.

Is this your husband? she asked me. She pointed at Claudio.

No, I said.

Your father?

No.

Your brother?

No, I said. He’s my friend. Claudio introduced himself and held his hand out to shake hers but she was holding the clock tightly with both hands so couldn’t follow through.

You better not be thinking of stealing my purse, she said. She backed away from us into the shadows of her room.

No, no, of course not, said Claudio. I took his arm and pulled him gently away from the woman.

My house key is in this bag! we heard her yell. She had come back into the hallway. She was still holding the clock. Claudio and I turned around, nodded and smiled, and then kept walking. A nurse told her to hush, Milly, hush.

She’s never going back home, I told Claudio.

No? Why not? he said.

Because it’s been sold, I said. Her nephew told me. From here she’ll go to a nursing home.

But she keeps the key to her house, said Claudio.

It’s the only thing in her bag, I said. She never lets go of it, or the clock, even when she’s sleeping.

Yoli, said Claudio. We will find a replacement for those last concerts, there’s still time. Please tell Elfrieda, again, not to worry about anything. Nothing at all. Claudio stopped walking and put his hands on my shoulders and told me he was sorry. Yolandi, he said, your sister is a rare individual. She is like no other person I’ve ever known. You must keep her alive. You must try everything. Everything.

I … yeah, I will … we are … Claudio was wiping tears from his eyes. I patted his shoulder. It’s okay … she’ll be okay, I said. I really think she’ll be okay. I smiled hard.

Claudio hugged me. He said he had to run, he had a car waiting outside, but we’d meet again. His cellphone rang. Arrivederci , Claudio, I said. And thanks, thank you, grazie for the beautiful flowers.

When I came back into the room, Elf said, I know. Don’t be mad. And don’t preach, okay? Gift of life. You sounded like an old Mennonite, like what’s his name.

I’m not mad, I said. I am an old Mennonite. So are you. You’re so resentful of everything.

That’s true, said Elf. That’s very true.

Yeah, but of what exactly?

Elf said nothing.

Hey, I said. I had a dream that I was leaving everyone I knew, that everyone I knew and loved had gathered together on a sunny afternoon to wave goodbye to me. I didn’t want to go then, when I saw them all gathered and was reminded of their love, but I had to go.

Elf asked me, Did you see me in that dream? I said yes, of course, you were there too, smiling and waving. Elf asked me if I had ever read Lady Chatterley’s Lover . I said no. This is the first line, she said, and recited it: “Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically.”