Agota Kristof - The Book of Lies

Grandmother's legacy is buried under the bench in front of the house, a canvas bag that contains jewels, gold pieces, and money. If I tried to sell it all, I would be accused of having stolen it.

It was at the station that I met the man who wanted to cross the border.

It is night. The man is there, in front of the station, his hands in his pockets. The other travelers are already gone. Station Square is deserted.

The man signals me to come closer and I walk toward him. He has no luggage.

I say, "Usually I carry travelers' bags. But I see that you don't have any."

He says, "No, I don't."

I say, "If I could be of some other service. I can see that you're a stranger in town."

"And how can you tell I'm a stranger?"

I say, "No one in town wears clothes like yours. And everyone in our town has the same face. A face that's recognized and familiar. You can tell who people from our town are even if you don't know them personally. When a stranger comes he's immediately spotted."

The man looks around us. "Do you think I've been spotted already?"

"Absolutely. But if your papers are in order it won't matter much. You'll present them at the police station tomorrow morning, and you can stay as long as you like. There's no hotel, but I can show you to houses where they rent out rooms."

The man says, "Follow me."

He sets off toward town, but instead of taking the main road he veers off to the right, onto a small dusty road, and sits down between two bushes. I sit down beside him and ask, "Are you trying to hide? Why?"

He asks me, "Do you know the town well?"

"Yes, perfectly."

"The border?"

"That too."

"Your parents?"

"I don't have any."

"They're dead?"

"I don't know."

"Whose house do you live at?"

"Mine. It's Grandmother's house. She's dead."

"With anyone else?"

"Alone."

"Where's your house?"

"At the other end of town. Near the border."

"Could you put me up for one night? I have a lot of money."

"Yes, I can put you up."

"Do you know a way we can get to your house without being seen?"

"Yes."

"Let's go. I'll follow you."

We walk in the fields behind the houses. Sometimes we have to clamber over fences and gates and cross gardens and private yards. Night has fallen, and the man behind me makes no noise.

When we reach Grandmother's house I congratulate him: "Even at your age you had no trouble following me."

He laughs. "At my age? I'm only forty, and I fought in the war. I learned how to get through towns without making noise."

After some time he adds, "You're right. I'm old now. My youth was swallowed up by the war. Do you have anything to drink?"

I set some brandy on the table and say, "You want to cross the border, don't you?"

He laughs again. "How did you guess? Do you have anything to eat?"

I say, "I can make you a mushroom omelet. I also have goat's cheese."

He drinks while I make dinner.

We eat. I ask him, "How did you make it into the frontier zone? You need a special permit to come to our town."

He says, "I have a sister who lives here. I asked permission to visit her and it was granted."

"But you're not going to see her."

"No. I don't want to make trouble for her. Here, burn all this in your stove."

He gives me his identity card and other papers. I throw everything into the fire.

I ask, "Why do you want to leave?"

"That's not your business. Show me the way, that's all I ask. I'll give you all the money I have."

He puts banknotes on the table.

I say, "It's no great sacrifice to leave that much behind. Anyway it's not worth anything on the other side."

He says, "But here, for a young fellow like you, it's worth quite a bit."

I throw the bills into the fire.

"You know, I don't need money that much. I have everything I want here."

We watch the money burn. I say, "You can't cross the frontier without risking your life."

The man says, "I know."

I say, "You should also know that I could turn you in right now. There's a border post right across from my house, and I collaborate with them. I'm an informer."

Very pale, the man says, "An informer, at your age?"

"Age has nothing to do with it. I've turned in a number of people who wanted to cross the frontier. I see and report on everything that goes on in the forest."

"But why?"

"Because sometimes they send in plants to see if I inform on them or not. Until now I was forced to report them whether they were plants or not."

"Why until now?"

"Because tomorrow I'm crossing the frontier with you. I want to get out of here too."

A little before noon the next day we cross the frontier.

The man walks in front and doesn't have a hope. Near the second barrier a land mine goes off and takes him with it. I walk behind him and risk nothing.

I watch the empty square until late into the night. When I finally go to bed, I dream.

I go down to the river; my brother is there, sitting on the bank, fishing. I sit down beside him.

"You getting many?"

"No. I was waiting for you."

He stands and packs up his rod. "It's been a long time since there were fish here. There isn't even water anymore."

He reaches for a rock and throws it at the other rocks in the dried-up river.

We walk toward town. I stop in front of a house with green shutters. My brother says, "Yes, it was our house. You recognized it."

I say, "Yes, but it wasn't here before. It was in another town."

My brother corrects me: "In another life. And now it's here and it's empty."

We reach Central Square.

In front of the bookshop door two little boys are sitting on the stairs that lead up to the living quarters.

My brother says, 'Those are my sons. Their mother is gone."

We go into the kitchen. My brother makes the evening meal. The children eat in silence, not raising their eyes.

I say, 'They're happy, your sons."

"Very happy. I'm going to put them to bed."

When he returns he says, "Let's go to my room."

We go into the large room and my brother retrieves a bottle hidden behind the books on the shelves.

"This is all that's left. The barrels are empty."

We drink. My brother strokes the red plush tablecloth.

"You see, nothing's changed. I kept everything. Even this hideous tablecloth. Tomorrow you can move in to the house."

I say, "I don't want to. I'd rather play with your children."

My brother says, "My children don't play."

"What do they do?"

"They are preparing to make it through life."

I say, "I made it through life and haven't found anything."

My brother says, "There's nothing to find. What were you looking for?"

"You. It's because of you that I came back."

My brother laughs. "Because of me? You know very well that I'm just a dream. You must accept that. There is nothing anywhere."

I am cold and stand up.

"It's late. I have to go back."

"Go back? Where?"

'To the hotel."

"What hotel? You're at home here. I'm going to introduce you to our parents."

"Our parents? Where are they?"

My brother points at the brown door that leads into the other half of the apartment.

'There. They're asleep."

'Together?"

"As ever."

I say, "They shouldn't be woken up."

My brother says, "Why not? They'll be overjoyed to see you after all these years."

I step backward toward the door.

"No, no, I don't want to see them again."

My brother grabs my arm. "You don't want to, you don't have to. I see them every day. You should see them at least once, just once!"

My brother pulls me toward the brown door; with my free hand I grab a very heavy glass ashtray from the table and hit him on the back of the neck with it.