Norman Manea - The Black Envelope

My report on the Narcissus case: another time. I’m still reeling from the Association’s asylum; I can’t get back into the routine of things so quickly .

DARKENED WINDOWS. THE RAINhad been falling all night. The sluggish hour. Sleepiness, bad temper. The languid floundering continued to spread. A rage leavened through postponement.

‘What did I ask you, Comrade Vasilic ?”

The phlegmatic Boss Gic , dark and mysterious as on his off days. A harmless-enough pig, brought up among poultry; you can’t even be sure he’s not a tomcat or an ugly bitch; until one giddy day when it occurs to him to appear as a wild boar, so that his skin snaps at the seams and the fire catches hold of that coarse, putrid snout full of poisons and manure.

“What did we establish once and for all, Comrade Vasilic ?”

If he called her by the male diminutive Vasilic , instead of the female name Vasilica, it was bad news!

The poor woman had stopped in the middle of the room with a tray in her hand. There had been no advance warning. She had come in nice and easy with the tray and laid out a little cup and saucer for each of them. First for Mr. Teodosiu. Mr. Gic Teodosiu, the Boss. And next to it, on the same little table, a coffee for Comrade Titi, as she did every day. Then for Miss Gina at reception. Then for the professor, on the stool in front of the armchair. He had not so much as raised his bald head from those French German or whatever weeklies, not even moved those long, sprawling legs. So she had arranged everything nicely, as always. The professor had not looked up from that color magazine, but he had slowly put his hand in his trouser pocket, taken out a banknote, stretched slightly, and slipped the ten lei baksheesh into the pocket of her blue work coat. Everything in its place. What could have got into the fat man? Mr. Teodosiu of all people! In fact, he knew her: they had been neighbors, and how her niece Stelu¸ta had helped him when Ortansa, Mr. Gic ’s wife, was in hot water over those medicines that had been taken in kilograms from the hospital and sold under the counter! A search, lists of persons and medicines involved: if it hadn’t been for Stelu¸ta, if she hadn’t spoken to the right people at the right time, Madam Ortansa and Mr. Gic wouldn’t have had any servants to put cups of coffee in front of them. What hadn’t she done for Mr. Teodosiu or for Comrade Titi! How much walking and standing in line and keeping secrets! Because that’s how Vasilica is: she wouldn’t breathe a word if you cut her into little pieces. You can’t know how things stand: those people fix everything between themselves so they always come out on top. Better be blind and deaf— that’ll keep you out of trouble. But then look what gets into him all of a sudden! As if he hadn’t seen every morning how the professor slips her a note. You don’t find anywhere such hot, thick, creamy coffee as Vasilica’s. And anyway, that’s what the professor’s like. It was no use Mr. Teodosiu announcing in a loud voice, for everyone to hear, I’m paying for the coffee and there’s an end of it, that’s what Comrade Teodosiu kept repeating, but it wasn’t any use. Because the professor’s like that: whatever you say to him, he does what he feels like doing. That’s his style, generous. He gives himself airs handing out tips, like the silk-stocking gentry, even though he’s not exactly well off. How could he be? It’s true that he gives her a note every day, three lei, five lei, ten lei — yes, sometimes even ten lei, as if he didn’t know what he was giving. And it’s true that every week she puts aside an envelope with coffee beans, for Mr. Tolea to take home. They come out of her ration, and Mr. Vancea pays her for them separately on Friday. Coffee is like gold these days, and Vasilica has a right to save something herself, because she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. One or two a day — she deserves at least that much, so she can put it aside. For three years now the doctor hasn’t let her drink coffee, the old stick-in-the-mud; in the early hours she can hardly crawl about, as if drunk, so it’s just as well she can still sniff some of the rich people’s coffee. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to move an inch.

“What time did you get here today?”

The old scarecrow hasn’t given up. He’s keeping her standing there, in the middle of the room with the tray in her hand, while he gives her a dressing-down. And the others? Not a word: the puppets don’t hear or see a thing, don’t utter a sound. That spineless flunky Titi, that real nasty piece of work, little old four eyes, as Gina says, who sees everything to do with everyone and reports it to those who keep him in his job. And the little pussy cat, snort snort, of course she purrs and rubs her whiskers; she wouldn’t say a word; all that loafer wants is to be stroked on and under her fur, to find a nice hidden corner for herself where it’s warm and some tomcat will take pity on her. As for the professor, he’s a real loony: he can suddenly have a funny turn, throw a saucepan and frighten the life out of you. He must have connections way up top to play such dirty tricks on you when you’re least expecting it. When he goes into one of his tantrums, he can do just about anything.

“It was still night when I left home. I left at four, you know, before there was even any daylight.”

“I didn’t ask when you left. I asked when you got to work.”

Start telling Mr. Teodosiu that you, Vasilica, the rag he uses to wipe the floor, got here on time. You arrived at the time laid down by law. You, Vasilica, a rag, talking about the time fixed by law! Say it to that fleecer who’ll have your guts for garters and who’s just waiting for you to say it so he can scream and shout some more.

“Well, since they started work on the metro the trams haven’t been running. I come all around the houses by bus. I have to change three times: I get sick of it, as I told you before.”

“And you stop off for milk. There are two bottles in your bag right now. I told you to get the milk here at the corner.”

“I had a row with Nu¸tica, the woman in charge, and now she won’t keep any for me. By the time I arrive, there’s not a drop of milk left. She said she asked you for some cigarettes, some of those Kents, for a doctor of hers. She’s ill and hard-up, as you know. She goes to those gynecologists all the time. Well, she’s angry with me because you didn’t give them to her.” I’ve got you there, you dirty little dog. You know what women’s disease I’m talking about, because you got your paws on poor Nu¸tica, too, didn’t you? Yes, I haven’t said anything before. Quiet as a mouse I’ve been, so that scorpion wife of yours, Ortansa, doesn’t find out.

“I’m not interested in your relations with Nu¸ti. I don’t ask much of you, Comrade Vasilic . Just a couple of perfectly simple things.”

Comrade, d’you hear! As soon as you mention his piece of ass, you’re comrade all of a sudden, just like at the courts.

Employee Vasilica Vasilic , known to everyone as Vili, pulled her kerchief straight. She lowered her right hand — the one with the tray — down the length of her washed-out, oversized work coat; and with her left hand she straightened her kerchief. She raised her head. A small face with curly hair. Her big, long hands dangled beside her small, bent body. Piercing eyes, a broad strong mouth with small, misshapen, bleached teeth. She was staring Boss Teodosiu straight in the eyes.