Peter Stamm - We're Flying

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Following the publication of the widely acclaimed novel
comes a trove of stories from the Swiss master Peter Stamm. They all possess the traits that have built Stamm’s reputation: the directness of the prose, the deceptive surface simplicity of the narratives, and deep psychological insight into the existential dilemmas of contemporary life. Stamm does not waste a word, nor does he spare the reader’s feelings. These stories are a superb introduction to his work and a gift for all those who have come to regard his fiction as a precise rendering of the contemporary human psyche.

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She broke Dominic’s grip and stepped away from him. He was lying in the corner, screaming now, and she tried to call his parents. She dialed all the numbers she found in the book: home numbers, office numbers, and both mobile phones, but no one picked up. She left messages. She made no effort to conceal her irritation. After that was done she felt a little calmer. She went across to Dominic, leaned down over him, and patted him on the shoulder. Someone would be along soon.

Dominic asked if it would be his mama or his papa who was coming. Angelika said she wasn’t sure, but one or the other would be there any minute. Dominic asked if any minute was now. No, said Angelika. When was any minute? Now? No, any minute was soon. Now? Not yet. She would tell him. She lifted him off the ground and carried him to the sofa. He took hold of her again. Is now soon? She didn’t reply. She was busy doing things, tidying away the last of the toys, opening the windows to let in some fresh air. At seven she called Benno and said she was running late. They agreed to make it half past eight. Dominic sat rigidly on the red sofa and didn’t take his eyes off her.

Usually it was his mother who brought him to nursery school and his father who picked him up. He always came at the last moment, sometimes he was late, but this time he was more than an hour late. Angelika’s annoyance had lessened. Now she was beginning to worry. She felt uneasy, she felt threatened, she didn’t know how or why. I’m going to leave in five minutes, she thought to herself, and in five minutes she thought the same thing. She called her boss but got no reply. She wondered about calling the police to ask if there’d been an accident somewhere, but then she decided not to. She wrote a note to Dominic’s parents to say she had taken the boy home with her. She left her cell phone number at the bottom. She shut the windows and bundled Dominic up in his jacket and hat and shoes, and took him by the hand. When she’d locked up, she realized she’d forgotten the note, and she had to go back in again to get it and attach it to the door.

She was often out and about in the city with the children, going to the zoo or the lake or a playground near the day care. But this was different. She felt she was with her own child, and she felt oddly proud—as though taking a child by the hand were somehow difficult. Dominic was quiet, who knew what was going on in his head. He sat down next to her in the streetcar and looked out the window. After a couple of stops, he began asking questions. He pointed to a woman and asked, Why is that woman wearing a hat? Because it’s cold. Why is it cold? It’s winter. Why? Look at the little dog, said Angelika. Why is the dog little? Just because, she said, there are big dogs and little dogs. Are we going home? asked Dominic. Yes, said Angelika, we’re going home. Home to my home.

At the station they had to wait. The bus was late, so they stood in the dark and waited. It had been raining in the afternoon, and the car headlights glistened on the wet asphalt. At least Angelika had tomorrow off. She wanted to go to IKEA with Benno and buy a cabinet for her shoes. She had looked at the catalog and knew exactly which model.

For a while Dominic didn’t say anything. When she bent down to look at him, he suddenly stood up on one foot and swiveled on his own axis like a ballet dancer. He spread his arms, and turned around and around until he was wobbling. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, completely lost in his funny dance. His face was earnest and concentrated. Watch out, said Angelika, here comes the bus. I’m flying, said Dominic.

Angelika lived in a suburb on the edge of town, in a five-story tenement from the 1980s. At the time she moved to the city, she hadn’t been able in her hurry to find anything better, and after a while she had gotten used to it, she no longer heard the noise from the airport, and it was close to the forest where she liked to go jogging in summer. Lots of families with children lived here. Eventually Angelika would have children too. She had never discussed it with Benno, and didn’t even know how he felt about it. But one thing was for sure: he wouldn’t want to live out here. He let her know that each time he came to visit her. Most of the time they met at his place. Only when Angelika was at work late did he sometimes agree to sleep over at hers.

She was amazed by how naturally Dominic followed her up the stairs. On the second floor he even overtook her and charged on ahead. When she stopped in front of her door, he was half a flight up, and she had to call him back. Then suddenly he didn’t want to go down the stairs alone, and she had to lead him down.

He stopped in the hall and waited patiently while she took off his wet shoes and his jacket. She asked him if he was hungry. He nodded, and she went in the kitchen to see what she had in the fridge. She cooked some pasta, with sauce out of a jar. While he ate, she flicked through the free newspaper she’d picked up on the streetcar. Dominic was ravenous, cramming the noodles into his mouth with both hands. When she asked him to use a fork, he said he didn’t know how. But you manage it at nursery, she said. He pretended to try. Then, when she told him off again, he started to wail. Don’t be so silly, said Angelika. Dominic pushed his plate away with a jerk and upset his glass. The water spilled over the table and the newspaper. Can’t you watch what you’re doing? snapped Angelika, and got up to get a paper towel.

Suddenly her apartment looked ugly and inhospitable to her. No wonder Benno didn’t like coming here. She remembered her childhood and the home of her parents, that cozy old house. At the time she had the feeling nothing bad could happen to her in that house, as though it had always been there and would always be there, a refuge and a protection for her. When her parents said a few years ago that they wanted to sell it and move into an apartment, she couldn’t believe it. Her father had trouble walking, and her mother said neither of them was getting any younger, and the garden was a lot of work, and what were they both doing, rattling around all alone in that big old house. Angelika said nothing. Her parents hired movers to handle the move. She asked herself if she would ever manage to offer a child such a home. It seemed to her she didn’t have the confidence, the security, or the love.

They were still at table when Angelika heard the key in the door. Hello, Benno called from the hall. He appeared in the doorway of the living room, stopped, and said, Well, who do we have here? Angelika explained. Is he going to sleep in our bed? Benno asked with a grin. Because if he is, I can pack up and go home. Angelika said she was sure it was just a misunderstanding. Misunderstanding? said Benno. People leave their kid somewhere, and it’s a misunderstanding? He sat down with them at table. Dominic stared at him, and Benno stared back, with the same look of astonishment. Perhaps they flew away, he said. Do you think your parents could have flown away? He flapped his arms like a bird. Dominic said nothing, and Benno asked if there was anything left to eat. I thought you would have eaten already. Not really, said Benno. Angelika said she could make him some spaghetti. Do you want some more? she asked Dominic. He nodded.

When she brought the spaghetti into the living room ten minutes later, Benno and Dominic were sitting on two sofa cushions on the floor. Dominic was sitting behind Benno and had his arms around his waist. Benno leaned his upper body forward and to the side and back, and was making droning sounds. Dominic was laughing wildly and copying his movements. We’re flying, said Benno.

Angelika put the spaghetti on the table and fetched cutlery and a clean plate. Come on, she said, supper’ll get cold. Again she thought of her childhood, where such a sentence must have fallen a thousand times, though she seemed only now to understand it. Benno got up. He had his arms out and was still flying. He made for the table. Dominic was holding onto his belt and allowed himself to be towed. He was skipping up and down with delight. Suddenly Benno spun around and grabbed the boy and plopped him on a chair. There, he said, we have to eat something, the plane’s run out of fuel.

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