Julia Franck - Back to Back

Thomas ate a mouthful of bean casserole and looked at her. Your cheeks are glowing.

Here’s to glowing cheeks! Ella raised her wine glass and drank to Thomas.

Here’s to you. Thomas raised his own glass and emptied it. What makes you so cruel, Ella? Don’t you ever think of any living creature but yourself?

Heavens, where would that get us? Who else would you like me to think of? Aren’t I thinking of our cattle and our deer on the Darss peninsula? Are we nothing but creatures, then, do we do so little creating ourselves?

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. When Ella was getting on his nerves he could manage not to look at her for hours on end. One of those long periods could have begun just now.

Cheer up, little one, this is all about the fact that I like eating meat, right?

Thomas put down his wine glass, threw his head back, raised it again and belched gently at Ella. It’s an experiment, take it that way. No one has to kill and eat animals. My pacifist contribution to the world.

Ah, I see. Ella nodded in agreement, as if she were finally accepting what he said. A waltz was followed by slow music intended for couples in love and newly married, like them.

Shall we dance? Ella winked at Thomas and dabbed her mouth ceremoniously with her napkin. He put down his wine glass. Taking his sleeve, she led him through the double door to the dance floor.

There’s only one man I can be happy with, Ella whispered in Thomas’s ear, and that’s you. All the others want to touch me, stick their tongues in my mouth, fuck me, hurt me. Ella shook herself. It’s disgusting, they’re as greedy for it as animals. You’re different. She turned right, holding Thomas so close that he had to turn with her.

You think so? Thomas’s eyelashes fluttered, and he did not step back but danced hesitantly on the spot, so that Ella trod on his toes.

I certainly am. Ella nodded vigorously. No doubt about it, you’d never want that, not with me, and perhaps — she hesitated — no, certainly not with any other girl.

Ella pushed his arm, pressed her knee against his so that he would keep moving his legs. She pushed him on, but he turned against her arm. What is it, don’t you like dancing? Your shoulders are drooping as if you were a sack of potatoes. Thomas had blue eyes with a green glint to them on many sunny days, and when he was happy. Today they were a shade of grey in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Are you tipsy already? Ella giggled.

Thomas shuffled from foot to foot on the spot. I wish I were the one.

What one?

The one you look at, the one you want. Thomas’s sad expression intrigued Ella. He went on: I’m not sure if I’m really any different from other boys. You hope so. But why would I be different?

You just are different, you’re not an animal.

Yes, I am. Thomas was nodding now, I’m a mammal. Or if I may say so, a human being.

You’re not your body’s slave. Ella impatiently guided Thomas through the dancing couples, and he let her lead him, but that was not enough of a signal.

Not the slave, maybe, but the servant. Not just of my body, of other people’s as well.

Then human beings are barbaric because they’re born through sexual intercourse?

Well, aren’t they? Thomas looked doubtfully at Ella. Barbaric, I mean? Maybe it’s not just because of the two sexes, there are a few other details involved.

I don’t know. Ella was laughing now, she held Thomas’s arm up so high that it served as an arch and she could twirl in the dance under it. I can’t imagine you doing it with Violetta or any other. . you don’t want to, do you?

Thomas did not reply; he didn’t know what to say. I’ll have to sit down. He was moving more slowly, and looked as if he might stop.

Not yet. Ella twirled again. There’s nothing nicer than feeling dizzy as you dance.

Do you think, whispered Thomas, searching for words, affectionately, sternly, do you think you’re the only one to feel helpless? What can I do about it? I’m a boy. I don’t want to be a girl.

You’re drunk.

Thomas shook his head. How would I be different when I’m going to be a man, when I’m a boy? He felt exhausted and wanted to lay his head on Ella’s swaying shoulder. She was tireless when she began dancing, they could go on all night like this with him following her, holding up his arm for her to twirl under it, holding out a hand while she moved to one side as soon as he wanted to rest his head. Can I stop nature in its tracks?

Yes, stop it in its tracks. Stop all nature in its tracks. Come on, let’s swear never to grow up. Ella raised her fingers in the air, her eyes were shining. I’m going to stay small and never be anyone’s wife.

Is that what you want me to swear? Never to be anyone’s wife?

Husband for you, of course, swear never to be anyone’s husband. .

They danced, and Thomas watched their shadows on the dance floor.

There’s something I must tell you, he called out so that she could hear him; she had moved so far away that only their fingertips touched now and then.

Ella raised her eyebrows, but showed no sign of getting closer to him, so he would have to say it louder, shout it. He couldn’t manage that.

Later, when they were back at their table, raising their full wine glasses, drinking to each other, he said: I can’t do it.

Do what?

Stay a child. I can’t.

Disappointed, she shrugged and assumed her haughty expression, that negative look from under her long lashes that laid all the Johnnys of this world low. She drank the wine in her glass straight down, waited for the waiter to arrive, gave him a half-smile and enjoyed his awkwardness. As soon as he had topped up the glass she took another sip. The wine was pleasantly astringent, her gums felt rough, her teeth felt rough when she ran her tongue over them, her palate felt rough. She had slight nausea, in line with the intoxication of her thought. Of course, Thomas had begun loving girls some time ago, the looks he gave them had not escaped Ella, he couldn’t see enough of them, when a certain girl crossed his path his deep gaze was embarrassing to Ella, and to Violetta if not also to Michael; Ella guessed it, but she didn’t want to know about it. His desire was not of the flesh, it was a sacred, spiritual, crystalline desire, she felt absolutely sure of that. She nodded to herself, so as not to lose her certainty. Never mind all that talk of gazelles — Siegfried liked her legs in particular. Her knee was a bulging mound, a clumsy joint run wild, she thought as she crossed one leg over the other and jiggled it in time to the music.

You are different, she said, and smiled at her own earnest tone of voice. I didn’t have time to want anything, Eduard was just there, and I hadn’t even started bleeding, I mean before. I wasn’t a woman yet. He thinks he made me one. But I’m not letting anyone make me anything. Do you understand?

Thomas nodded vaguely, took a large sip from his glass, and he might have been thinking of God from the way he gazed at the ruby red of the wine. He probably wasn’t listening to Ella.

And now here’s the lodger. Oh, what luck. Ella said it in a cold, contemptuous voice. Well, we’re really in luck after that mess we were in, she said, imitating Käthe’s tone of enthusiasm, he got us heating, genuine oil-fired central heating for the whole house, and we needed it so urgently.

You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Exhausted, Thomas shrugged his shoulders.

I don’t want him scratching mine.

What do you mean? Thomas’s mouth dropped open, as it so often did.

Close your mouth or you’ll catch the flies. What I say. You know exactly what I mean. Didn’t you say so yourself in the poem about the Red Way? The central heating demands tribute. Her eyes were sparkling with an unpleasant, angry, impotent light.