Matthias Politycki - Next World Novella

Schepp remembered only those glances directed at him, an overexposed snapshot in his memory that faded everything else out, a still moment of terror into which, powerfully, eternity had passed. Then the picture started moving again. Dana turned away from him with contempt and began, with a ‘That takes even my breath away!’, to pull him to pieces. In so far as he could hear at all, what with the rushing in his ears, that terrible rushing. He didn’t know whether to feel offended as a man or as someone who had, after all, shelled out a considerable sum of money for Dana and now had to listen to her putting him down in the most brazen way.

Today, when he reconstructed the scene, he felt sick with embarrassment; he would have liked to have kept his eyes firmly shut until it was entirely forgotten. He ought really to have told Doro about it long ago, but the story had not point — apart perhaps from the fact that he had never felt so ashamed in his life, what was there to say? Soon after he had unselfishly paid off Dana’s debts, she had disappeared again anyway. This time for good. Paulus didn’t know why. No, she had left of her own accord, disappeared from one day to the next, that was her way, he had no means of keeping her.

And this time Schepp had no means of getting her back. Yes, he kept ringing her at different times of the day and night, but he always got her voicemail, left good wishes ‘from all at La Pfiff’, at first even whistled a little goodbye tune. His sense of humour took a beating when, one day, the digital voice told him that the number he wanted was unavailable — Schepp understood at once, even if he didn’t get a word of the Polish message. He cursed the doctor who had advised him to have his eye operation. In his old half-blind condition he would never have found his way to La Pfiff, would never have seen Dana and therefore would not be missing her now, missing her in this pathetic way. If only he had stayed in the peaceful routine of his old life with his wonderful wife! Who now lay dead beside him, and had taken any resentment she might have had with her –

Taken it with her?

On the contrary. Schepp flew into a rage. Behind his back, she had maliciously compiled a reckoning, had left him all her resentment in black and white, and he couldn’t even contradict it. Oh no? He’d see if he couldn’t! Once again he was pacing back and forth in full flow, one last time, right hand keeping precise time in the air with his thoughts, index and little fingers, the rest of his hand a clenched fist. He was so angry with Doro (even though he had been angry with the ophthalmologist a moment earlier) that he could have knocked her down or done something else to hurt her.

Schepp stamped, Schepp snorted, Schepp was a caged wild beast, he was going to bite the next hand that came close, watch out! When the doorbell rang he stood still for a moment, holding his breath, but it would only be the postman looking for the nearest idiot to deliver some neighbour’s package to. The hell with the postman. The doorbell rang a second time, rang in a demanding way and for rather too long. Schepp stood there trembling, gasping for breath, his glance roaming until it came to rest on Doro’s nose. The nose definitely looked sharper, he didn’t need convincing, her face was altogether thinner.

Bonier.

Uglier.

Yes, he hissed, you’ve become uglier. Your own fault. It serves you right.

From outside came the sound of a car driving away, from inside not even a buzzing, even the fly was hiding from him. A few breaths later he discovered it crawling out of Doro’s nose. ‘Filthy creature!’ he shouted, so loudly that it immediately settled on Doro’s cheek. The way it crawled out and the way it settled struck him as outrageous, incredibly nasty. All the bottled-up anger against Doro tried to discharge itself in determined gesticulating: ‘You just wait, you’ll be sorry!’

The fly showed no alarm at his flapping. ‘Damn you, get out!’ If it stayed on Doro’s cheek he surely couldn’t —? Then it all suddenly poured out of him. A desperate bitterness about his entire life: about the Emperor of China, whom as a little boy he had been so keen to meet and who had enticed him into this wretched life as a Sinologist; about his colleagues who had laughed at him for years; about his mother who had always blamed him for being a failure because he hadn’t become a professor, as if he hadn’t done far, far more in life than she had — she who hadn’t even been able to provide him with a proper father; about his parents-in-law, who thought that their daughter should have married someone better, and who had insisted on a prenuptial agreement with a strict division of property; about Doro, who never openly contradicted them to declare her belief in him, who had in fact withdrawn more and more as the years went on, as if they were living together only for the sake of their children — what was left of the dream they had shared, the one in which she dreamt about a lake with or without an isle of the dead in it? About Pia, who had fled as far as possible from her parental home as soon as she had her school-leaving certificate, as if she’d been any happier in the United States, as if she could ever have made it there, with her poor linguistic ability; about Louisa, who had meant everything to him but since puberty had fallen so short of all he had hoped she would be; about his doctoral students with their pathetically mediocre minds; about the ophthalmologist; about La Pfiff and every single person waiting for someone, looking for something; about Dana, who had come so unexpectedly into his life and disappeared from it equally unexpectedly. Who did she think she was, what right did she have to go through life so high-handedly, bringing nothing but confusion with her, wreaking havoc, leaving emptiness in her wake? A dark, gloomy storm was brewing inside Schepp, all the gloom he had kept within bounds all his life through persistent study of the ancient sources. Since his operation, following the trail of all things bright and colourful, it had crawled back into his life and devoured it.

The fly took off into the air.

Schepp followed in hot pursuit. It must atone for its sins. Ignoring in his fury the vase of flowers as it fell over and broke behind him, he struck out at the fly with the manuscript, now wielding the stack of paper with both fists, now rolling it up in his right hand. A few sheets came loose and fluttered to the floor. Schepp took no notice, he was focused on his rage. Wherever the fly came down he was after it like doom personified. Who cared if an object fell off the desk or the coffee table, fell off the shelf and rolled across the floor, even breaking?

Then, head bent over, arms hanging powerless by his sides, he just sat there. On the ceiling, equally motionless, sat the fly. When the clock of the Church of the Good Shepherd struck first four high notes and then three low notes, Schepp knew what time it had struck, but didn’t know how the tears were pouring down his cheeks.

Finally he drew up his knees and buried his face in his hands, hoping for a miracle. If it hadn’t been for that smell! Schepp could discern it more and more clearly, that indecent something Other that had been waiting to ambush him this morning at the heart of his familiar home, that had maliciously skewed the day. How could flower water stink like that? Although when he knelt in front of the puddle that had spread among the broken pieces, the water smelt of nothing at all.

Not in the least?

Not in the least. Schepp inhaled. Such an intolerably unique smell had never entered his nostrils before. Should he fling all the windows open, should he get rid of everything in the room that was quietly, eerily, giving off that smell, trying to drive him mad? It couldn’t be Doro, thank God; he remembered her perfume, a bottle of it had stood on the desk ever since their wedding so that he always had the scent of her nearby when he surfaced from his texts and wanted to be reassured of her love. When had he last seen the little bottle of perfume? He hoped the fluid in it hadn’t evaporated.