Daniel Kehlmann - Fame - A Novel in Nine Episodes

I began to wonder if I was crazy. I woke up in the middle of the night, listened to the breathing of the woman next to me, and wondered for several anxious seconds not so much which one she was, but who I was at this moment and what labyrinth I’d strayed into. Only one step at a time, none of them a large step, none of them difficult, but without realizing it I’d gone so far into it that I could no longer see the way out. I closed my eyes and lay still and surrendered to the cold rush of panic. But when day dawned and I got up and donned each of my roles as if I had no other, everything seemed easy and almost back to normal again.

. . .

Two days before the Congress of European Telecommunications Providers, I sat in my office on the phone with the babysitter we’d arranged for. Hannah and I wanted to go together, finally we were making time for each other. My presentation was to be short and didn’t require any preparation, and the hotel promised luxury and a spa. As I hung up, I saw that an e-mail had just arrived from Luzia. Just one line: your congress. I’m coming too.

I rubbed my eyes and thought, as I had every hour of every day, that sooner or later everything was going to explode and a flaming catastrophe was bearing down on me.

“ Better not, ” I wrote, “ a lot of work, dreadful people. ”

That’s when I realized.

If Luzia knew about the Congress, for I had said nothing about it, that meant she knew someone who was also going to be there. Then I couldn’t go with Hannah; far too big a risk that Luzia would hear about it.

And conversely. What if I took Luzia? Hannah didn’t know many of my colleagues. She almost never came to this city, and my job had never interested her. But the risk was too great. For a moment I hated both of them.

I called Hannah.

“Oh, what a pity!” She sounded as if her mind were elsewhere, something was preoccupying her completely. I saw her in front of me: buried in a book, eyes bright but dreaming, and the situation—that I wasn’t there with her, that I had another woman, that nothing was the way it was supposed to be—brought tears to my eyes.

“It’s not going to work,” I said. “Have to stay. Too much going on in the office.”

“Whatever you think.”

“Another time, yes? Soon.”

She cleared her throat distractedly. In the background I heard the burble of music on the radio. “Yes, yes, fine.”

Luzia’s reply popped up on my screen: ridiculous, it’s going to be fun. I need to get out from time to time as well. If you’re going, I’m going too. End of discussion!

“Don’t be sad,” I said.

“I understand,” said Hannah. “I understand.”

I hung up. With Luzia it was going to be more difficult, because she was always wanting to know things about my work. Why, when I didn’t want to know them myself! But the department had to be represented there: if I went alone, Luzia would come, if I went with Luzia, Hannah would hear about it, if I went with Hannah, Luzia would hear about it; there was only one answer. I summoned Lobenmeier.

Impossible, he said. Trip to Paris. Long planned. Wife’s idea. Wedding anniversary.

I called for Schlick.

Impossible! Parents, birthday, big party, only son, had to be there. Besides which, family farm. Outbreak of foot-and-mouth just diagnosed.

I didn’t get the connection, but I sighed and let it go, and called Hauberlan, who couldn’t because he’d booked a nonrefundable cruise to the Hebrides. Smetana was off sick, and my secretary, whom I’d have drafted in desperation, had a long-standing commitment to the National Paintball Championships in a village in Lower Saxony. In no circumstances could she stand in for me. So there was no avoiding it. There was only one last possibility.

Can’t do it , I wrote. Have to send Mollwitz. He has friends in Corporate, he’s become too influential. I had trouble typing, my hands were shaking—with agitation, naturally, but also out of fury with Mollwitz and his intrigues. So sorry.

Mollwitz , she replied at once. Thought he was dead.

Oh God. Breathe calmly, I thought, calmly. When in doubt, flee forward. That was another guy with the same name. Strange coincidence. I looked up. Mollwitz was standing in the door. “You’ve made it!” I told him authoritatively. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

He was sweating more than ever. His little eyes twitched uneasily. He seemed to have put on even more weight recently.

“Don’t pretend to be surprised. You’re going to represent the department at the Congress. Well played, neatly done, I congratulate you.”

Mollwitz panted. Tomorrow, he said quietly, wasn’t so good. He had a lot to do. He didn’t like traveling. He really did smack his lips when he talked!

“Let’s not exaggerate. You know you want to go, I know you want to go, and on the floor above”—I raised my forefinger—“they know too. You’ll go far, my friend.”

He gave me a pleading look, then decamped. I imagined him next door, back sitting at his desk like a big toad, cursing quietly, and posting online somewhere.

I called Luzia.

It wasn’t so bad, she said immediately, it didn’t matter, I shouldn’t take it to heart.

I nodded silently, already feeling better. She was so good at consoling me.

When Luzia called to tell me she was pregnant, I was at the open-air pool with the children. The sun was playing on the trembling surface of the water, its reflections cut down deep, the whole world seemed shot through with light. Children shrieking, water splashing, the smell of coconut oil, chlorine, and grass.

“What?” I lifted my hand to my brow, but my arm was moving with a delayed action and my fingers seemed to be wrapped in cotton wool. My knees went so weak that I had to sit down. A fat little girl came trotting up, bumped into me, fell over, and began to cry. I blinked. “That’s wonderful,” I heard myself say.

“Really?” She didn’t seem to completely believe me and I didn’t quite believe myself either. And yet: why did I feel such a surge of joy? A child—my first! I had never felt so strongly that I was made up of two people, or rather that I had split one and the same life into two different variants. Over there, on the other side of the pool, my daughter was crawling across the grass. Farther in the distance my son was leaning in what was meant to be a casual pose, hoping I couldn’t see him and talking to two girls his own age.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good father,” I said quietly. I stopped, I was finding it hard to speak. “I’ll try!”

“You’re wonderful! You know, back then when … where are you, actually, there’s an awful lot of noise!”

“On the street. Not so far from your office. I wish I could come and see you …”

“So do it!”

“… but I can’t. An appointment.”

“Back then, when I got to know you. I’d never have believed it! You were like someone under a deadweight and at the same time … how can I put it? Someone forcing himself to stand upright at all times—I found it hard to believe you.” She laughed. “I thought you weren’t being honest.”

“Strange.” My daughter was looking for the edge of the pool. I stood up.

“If anyone had told me back then that it would be you of all people I …”

The little one was too near the water. “Can I call you back?” I hurried over toward her.

“But why do you think …”

I pressed the disconnect button and began to run. Sharp blades of grass prickled my naked feet. I hurdled two children who were lying there, dodged a dog, pushed a woman aside, and caught my daughter three feet from the water. She looked at me, puzzled, thought for a moment, and began to cry. I lifted her up and whispered soothing nonsense in her ear. I’ll call later , I thumb-clicked on my phone. Subway, lousy reception. I was about to send it, but then added I’m so happy! I looked at my daughter’s face, and once again was struck by how she was looking more like Hannah with every month that passed. I blew the hair off her forehead, she giggled softly; she’d already forgotten she’d just been crying. I hit Send.