Ismail Kadare - The Concert

This episode came back to him in his office. It had happened only yesterday, but so painful was its effect on him he felt he’d been struggling with it for a week.

And now those infernal girls in the next room had noticed about his suit! But Simon was not to be deterred by that, or by overhearing them say he must be a bit deranged. His only concern at present was how to make his phone call On the evening of the dinner party the minister had given him both his office and his home number, but while, yesterday afternoon after Simon had promised his brother to intervene, it had seemed best to call the minister at the office, this morning it had struck him as preferable to phone him at home, Then he realized he might spend the whole day shilly-shallying, and end up not talking to the minister at either place. But having then resolved to take the plunge at once, he learned from a colleague — not without some relief — that their phone wasn’t working again. Simon would have given up at that point, but for the fact that all his people would be waiting eagerly back in the apartment to hear how he’d got on. He couldn’t expect them to swallow the excuse that his office phone was out of order. Better at least appease his conscience by gritting his teeth and getting the chore over. After that, let ‘em all come!

But in the next-door office, when he’d already started dialling the number, it struck him that it would be better for the two women not to hear, so he hung up. Quite rightly too, for those two wretches, so quick to notice his suit, would certainly have listened to every word he said, despite their assumed indifference, Yes, he’d been quite right not to phone from their office, but that was no reason for not phoning at all.

As the end of the working day got nearer, Simon began to panic, but he comforted himself with the thought that if he couldn’t reach the minister at the ministry he could certainly reach him at his residence. And he had every right to call him at either place.

When two o’clock arrived he still hadn’t made his call as he stood in the corridor watching the other employees go home. This was the most propitious moment, with everyone in a hurry to leave and the offices emptying. He could find a phone without attracting attention. Eh? What did he mean by “without attracting attention”? A few days ago he’d have been proud to call the minister in front of everyone, and now he was letting himself be intimidated like this! It was unpardonable! If others could read his thoughts he’d be exposed to public obloquy. “Look at him — obsessed by rumours and gossip, a spreader of doubt! There’s no place for people like him in our society, the lousy petty-bourgeois!”

He saw Silva and Linda locking their office door behind them, and was about to call out, “Hey, could you hold on a moment while I make a phone call?” But not only did he not speak — he shrank into a recess so that they shouldn’t see him. I really must be going off my head! he thought. All the offices were swiftly being shut up one after the other — his chances were lessening with every minute that passed. He kept telling himself it didn’t matter, but his anxiety increased. But why? — there was a phone down in the porter’s lodge that he could use whenever he liked — in a way, that was the best solution. It was a sort of public phone, anonymous, so that if …If what? Now what crazy ideas was he getting? How shameful! How had he sunk so low?

He was now at the top of the front steps, just by the porter’s lodge. He pushed the glass door open with a firm gesture.

“You want to use the phone?” said the porter. “Help yourself!”

Simon Dersha picked up the phone and dialled the first digits. One of the porter’s eyes looked rather odd: red-rimmed, but watchful. After he’d finished dialling, Simon let the dial revolve back into place. But before it had finished doing so he was struck by a thought: What if things really were going badly for the minister? And he, Simon, chose this moment to ring him up? And where? At home! Hardly had the ringing begun at the other end than Simon pressed down the springs on the receiver stand and replaced the phone.

“No answer?” said the porter. “Perhaps you should have let it ring a bit longer…”

“Sez you!” thought Simon, making off without more ado. The fresh air helped him see things more clearly. He wasn’t really sorry he’d given up on the porter’s lodge: it would have been better if he’d called the minister in his office — at home it was a different matter. And what about the porter’s bloodshot eye?… Still, not a bad idea to ring from a phone that didn’t belong to anyone in particular. He could ring from a public call-box — funny he hadn’t thought of it before!

When he came to a call-box he took a deep breath. He felt at bay. Never mind, let ‘em ail come! He put his hand in his pocket and got out a coin. All his movements were strangely rigid. It wasn’t until he heard a voice say “Hallo!” at the other end that he gave a start.

“Hallo — is that the residence of comrade —“

“Speaking,” said the minister.

“I’m sorry to bother you, comrade minister,” stammered Simon, “Especially at this hour…”

He let loose a flood of words he’d have been hard put to it to repeat afterwards. For a moment he felt he’d never manage to explain. But he must try to overcome the obstacles: first tell the minister who he was, and then…

But to Simon’s surprise the minister knew who he was straight away.

“You came to dinner at my place with…Yes, yes, I remember very well…Yes, of course …So what did you want to talk to me about?”

His voice sounded different — sharper, thinner.

Simon started to answer, but when the minister repeated the question he realized he hadn’t explained anything. He began again, but felt himself getting in a worse muddle still Two girls had appeared from somewhere, outside the call-box. That takes the biscuit! fumed Simon. Can’t even phone in peace from a public call-box now!

“Oh, you wanted to see me?” said the minister. “No problem, my dear fellow. Come whenever you like. Today if it suits you…”

“Today?” Simon wanted to exclaim. “What’s the hurry?” But the voice at the other end insisted.

“No point in putting it off. It so happens I’m free this afternoon, I’ll expect you at my place at six. All right?”

“I don’t know how to thank you, but…what shall I say? Just like that? Perhaps …”

“No point in complicating things! So that’s settled — I’ll be expecting you at six. See you then,”

Good Lord, thought Simon, hanging up. Anyone would think he’s dying for someone to go and see him…

As he made his way slowly home he couldn’t throw off the feeling that it might have been a mistake to phone. That thin voice, followed by the eagerness to see him …It left a bitter taste. Of course. that’s the state of mind you’d expect in someone who’s being ostracized. Could that really be the case? Had things gone so far? He tried to recall their conversation, but couldn’t. He kept thinking of the television programme the previous Thursday, but that didn’t help either. Why the devil did I have to come across that call-box? he grumbled.

“Well, what’s new?” said his wife as he came in, “But what’s the matter? You look quite drawn.”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said. “I spoke to the minister and I’m seeing him at six o’clock.”

“Really? But that’s wonderful!”

“Is there anyone here?”

“Of course — Benjamin and his wife. Who did you expect?”

“Oh, them,” he grunted.

“I don’t know why you take that tone.”

He gestured vaguely.

“At least don’t let them see you’re in a bad mood!” she whispered, “It isn’t polite!”