Sasa Stanisic - Before the Feast

“We don’t know our way well in this town.”

“The satnav went and let us down.”

“Great.” Anna tries breathing deeply. “Down Thälmann-Strasse here, along the main road, I’ll tell you when.”

The one called Q turns the van.

“Where — where have you come from?” Anna wants to keep the conversation going, however difficult her voice finds it.

“From here, from there, from up and down. Nothing to interest you tonight.”

“Henry, you’re not being very polite.” And turning to Anna, “Take no notice of this clown. On such a night things get him down. Usually he’s so good with words he can make counts nervous and countesses amorous, or do I mean it the other way? Never mind, be that as it may, it isn’t easy with names of places, they can’t be trusted in such cases.”

“You. . okay. .” Anna’s eyes are streaming, her breath is wheezing the whole time. The van speeds up on its way out of the village—

— and at the same time Herr Schramm is stepping on the gas of his Golf. When he is doing 130 k.p.h. he switches off the headlights.

HERR SCHRAMM IS DIVORCED, NO CHILDREN. HERR Schramm is not afraid of death, you don’t know what’s going on when you die. In summer he hadn’t been thinking of death, in summer Herr Schramm still wanted another go at life, maybe he’d fall in love.

Frau Mahlke, manageress of the dating agency, set off on a little tour of Brandenburg to visit six men in search of a partner at home, taking stock of them on their home ground. Herr Schramm’s appointment was the last. She arrived in Fürstenfelde at five, rather tired and in a worse temper than when she left the late-summer atmosphere of Pankow behind to drive out into the country.

Herr Schramm was waiting outside the Homeland House with a mug of coffee. His first words were, “Schramm, pleased to meet you,” followed by a calm, “Watch out, wasps,” as one of them tried to settle on Elisabeth Mahlke’s well-upholstered shoulder. Herr Schramm is a punctilious man.

Frau Mahlke has thrown a silk scarf, golden-yellow and pale lilac, over her slightly pudgy figure and is wearing a pair of trousers that are rather tight for her age of fifty-nine. Herr Schramm looked at the trousers in a way that clearly showed he wasn’t sure whether such tight trousers were right for this occasion, but never mind.

Frau Mahlke found herself taken out for a trip on the Deep Lake in the oldest rowing boat, which creaks romantically. She was not prepared for that. The cool breeze blowing over the lake did her hot face good, she took off her shoes and dunked her feet in the water. The ferryman owed Schramm a favor, so he rowed them out to the islands. “Come along, Elisabeth, I’ll show you the lakes and the deserted farms”—“Why don’t we just stay at your place to talk, Herr Schramm?”

Herr Schramm wanted to show the lady from the dating agency both the good sides and the not-so-good sides of Fürstenfelde. To be honest, he wanted to do the same with himself. The ferryman had recommended it. Because if you promise a woman a lie, you’ll be bound to disappoint her sometime. “You’re not such a splendid fellow, Schramm,” the ferryman had said, “but telling lies would make you really terrible.”

Frau Mahlke asked Herr Schramm whether midges were a problem in the area, and Herr Schramm said, “Yes, of course.” And he added, “On average a hundred thousand midges’ eggs are laid per square meter of the marshy land.” And, “It would be even worse without the bats.” And, “All the same, I’ve always wanted to go to Finland. They have lakes there that I’ve never seen. For instance, it would be good if you find me someone who’d like to go to Finland with me. I’ve got a bit of money put aside.”

“Well, let’s begin, shall we, Herr Schramm?” asked Frau Mahlke, picking up her questionnaire.

The questions about the lady’s appearance were soon dealt with: he liked brunettes. Yes, shorter than him, but not too short. No, he had no objection in principle to makeup. Yes, she should be well groomed but not to excess, you could see plenty of that on TV.

The following came next:

Frau Mahlke: “Should the lady of your heart be the domestic type?”

Herr Schramm: “What does that mean?”

Frau Mahlke: “Would you prefer someone who likes to stay at home, or someone who can join in outdoor activities with you?”

Herr Schramm: “I was an army officer, but I don’t get an officer’s pension.”

Frau Mahlke: “Meaning?”

Herr Schramm: “Meaning I have to work on the black market in the daytime. But don’t write it down just like that. Say I don’t mind what she does during the day, but I’d like her to be at home in the evening.”

Frau Mahlke: “Speaking of work, would you like the lady to have a career?”

Herr Schramm: “I don’t mind.”

Frau Mahlke: “Do you have any hobbies, Herr Schramm?”

Herr Schramm: “I’ve thought of something else to do with the last question.”

Frau Mahlke: “Yes?”

Herr Schramm: “Well, if she does have a job then I’d like that, if she’s happy with it too. Do you see what I mean?”

Frau Mahlke: “I think so.”

Herr Schramm: “It’s very important. Are you happy with your own work, Frau Mahlke?”

Frau Mahlke: “I meet a great many interesting people.”

Herr Schramm: “There you are, then. Ski-jumping and bats.”

Frau Mahlke: “What?”

Herr Schramm: “My hobbies. But I don’t do any ski-jumping myself. Do you know Jens Weissflog?”

Frau Mahlke: “He was that ski-jumper, wasn’t he?”

Herr Schramm: “Not just that ski-jumper, he was the ski-jumper. If there’s a category for it, please put: ‘Would like one who has no objection to ski-jumping.’”

Frau Mahlke: “All right. Under Miscellaneous, maybe. Let’s move on to something else. Do you wish for physical closeness?”

Herr Schramm: “Er. If it happens, if we like each other, I wouldn’t say no.”

Frau Mahlke: “Do you drink alcohol?”

Herr Schramm: “I do drink alcohol, yes.”

Frau Mahlke: “Do you drink more than two glasses a day?”

Herr Schramm: “Two glasses of what?”

Frau Mahlke laughs: “You see, I recently had a gentleman who, well, who liked to drink alcohol very much.”

Herr Schramm: “I like it very much too.”

Frau Mahlke: “Right.”

Herr Schramm: “Yes.”

Frau Mahlke: “Should she drink alcohol as well?”

Herr Schramm: “With me, yes.”

Frau Mahlke: “That’s fine too.”

Herr Schramm: “Yes.”

Frau Mahlke: “There was that Four Skills ski-jumping tournament, I watched that with my son when he was still small, he liked it.”

Herr Schramm: “Four Hills tournament.”

Frau Mahlke: “What?”

Herr Schramm: “Are you married, Frau Mahlke?”

Frau Mahlke: “Not now — how about housework?”

Herr Schramm: “I’ve been doing it myself for ages. That’s no problem.”

Frau Mahlke: “I believe you. But it all depends on your expectations. What do you expect of a woman, and what can she expect of you?”

Herr Schramm: “Could I perhaps mention that I don’t like ironing?”

Frau Mahlke: “We could say: shared work around the house ideal.”

Herr Schramm: “Shared? Good. Shared sounds good.”

Frau Mahlke: “A foreign lady?”

Herr Schramm: “No.”

Frau Mahlke: “Right. Should we concentrate on candidates from this part of the country?”

Herr Schramm: “Well, if there was anyone here I’d know. I can show her everything. And please write that it’s lovely here but not as lovely as some other places.”

Frau Mahlke: “I really like ironing myself.”