The Storyteller (28 page)

“‘No,’ the little queen replied, and her whole body shivered when she said that.

“‘She eats the jewels the jewel trader brings to her,’ the lighthouse keeper said.

“‘Then … then, she’ll eat my heart if he gets hold of it,’ the little queen whispered.

“At that moment, a blast of wind whipped over the ocean, blew the waves into towers, and made the little pieces of ice clink against one another. The shipmates lost their balance and fell onto the deck in a heap. The blind white cat complained that someone had landed on top of her.

“‘Sails down!’ the lighthouse keeper shouted. ‘There’s a storm!’

“The asking man and the answering man clung to each other fearfully and shouted senseless questions and answers into the howl of the wind: ‘Where is Michelle?’ ‘Maybe the lighthouse keeper!’ ‘Where does he come from?’ ‘In the box on top of the bathroom cupboard!’ ‘Who is his father?’

“The rose girl helped the lighthouse keeper lower the white sails—all but one. The black ship didn’t take down its black sails. Instead, a strange mechanism on its masts started moving, amid storm and waves: one of the black masts rotated, and the travelers could see that there was a huge net fastened to it. A wooden arm extended, and now the net hung exactly above the little green ship. And then someone working some gears or cranks began to lower it—and it became a deadly butterfly net.

“‘No!’ the little queen screamed and covered her eyes with her hands. But she looked through her fingers.

“It was the jewel trader who worked the gears, steered the net. He
had rolled up the sleeves of his leather jacket so they could see the white sheepskin lining inside. The diamond eater in her tracksuit stood beside him. There was one blood-red, dyed strand of hair on her forehead. Behind her, the two haters held onto each other, their eyes aglow with destructive frenzy. And behind the haters, the silver-gray dog pressed his body against the rail. He was nothing but a secret shadow.

“‘The airship!’ the rose girl said. ‘We can still make it!’

“The little queen lowered her hands. Her eyes were big and dark with fear. ‘But the storm will blow us in the wrong direction!’

“The net was sinking, lower and lower. And then, something unexpected happened. There was a scream, a piercing, horrible, eardrum-tearing scream that made the waves stop waving for a second, as if the whole ocean had suddenly frozen. At the same time, the net was lifted up again, the wooden apparatus turned its arm, and the huge trap dropped onto the dark sails. The black ship had caught itself. It seemed to fight with itself now: it buckled and heaved—the waves weren’t still anymore; they pushed the ship around—ropes ripped, and sails fell down from masts like withered leaves from dead trees. One of them covered the fat diamond eater, and another one covered the two haters, who tried to free themselves with angry shouts. But where was the cutter?

“The green ship sailed on through the storm with its one remaining white sail, and the black ship stayed behind, tied up like a big beetle in a spider’s web.

“‘The silver-gray dog!’ the little queen shouted against the wind. ‘He’s still on the black ship! We have to help him!’

“She wanted to turn the yellow rudder, to turn the ship, but on her way to the rudder, she stumbled over the white cat, who had fallen asleep on the floor again, and fell. The rose girl helped her up. Now the ship swayed to and fro gently, for the storm was dying down.

“The last high wave carried something in its glittering embrace. It was a body. For a moment, they saw it clearly, before the sea pulled it down into its bottomless depths.

“‘The jewel trader!’ the rose girl whispered. ‘He’s dead!’

“‘Like the red hunter,’ said the little queen. She put her arms around the rose girl and began to cry, and her diamond heart hurt inside her. ‘So does everybody have to die?’ she sobbed.

“When the water was perfectly still again, something else floated toward them in the light of the setting winter sun. Another body. The body of the sea lion. The asking man and the answering man fished it out of the sea with their long arms. They carefully laid it on the planks, where it turned into the body of a dog, and the little queen dropped down next to him. He was breathing, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“‘My poor dog!’ the little queen whispered. ‘What happened on the black ship?’

“‘Let him sleep,’ the rose girl said. ‘He needs rest.’ She carried the dog in her arms down into the cabin and put him to bed on the polar bear skins. On his left foreleg, the fur was missing in two shiny, circular patches, like burns.”

“Two?” Anna asked. Micha had fallen asleep once more, lying on the sofa next to them.

Anna gently pushed up Abel’s left sleeve. It was true. There was
a second round scar next to the first one. “What is it?” she asked. “Is it what I think it is?”

He nodded. “Cigarette burns. Cigarettes get pretty hot at the tips.” He pulled the sleeve back down.

“But who … who did that?”

“Is that important?” She looked at him. He sighed. “I did … Content now?”

“No,” she said. “Why? Why do you do it?”

“Has Micha been sleeping for long?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not answering any questions,” he said, smiling. “I’m not one of the answering people. I’m the storyteller.”

She got up and walked over to the old record player to put on one of the LPs she’d found in Linda’s Leonard Cohen collection. She turned the volume very low so as not to wake Micha, returned to the sofa, and leaned against Abel.

Travelling lady, stay a while until the night is over

I’m just a station on your way I know I’m not your lover
.

Well I lived with a child of snow when I was a soldier

And I fought every man for her until the nights grew colder

She used to wear her hair like you except when she was sleeping

And then she’d weave it on a loom of smoke and gold and breathing …

“What does that mean?” Anna whispered. “What does all that mean?”

Abel ran his fingers through her hair again, and his hand wandered down and stayed on her throat. “It means everything,” he whispered back. “And nothing.”

And why are you so quiet now standing there in the doorway?

You chose your journey long before you came upon this highway …

Travelling lady, stay a while until the night is over

I’m just a station on your way I know I’m not your lover …

“I thought about not coming back,” Abel said suddenly. “Of disappearing. Somewhere.”

Anna nodded. “It wasn’t an outing. You ran away. From Marinke. Michelle never called. Of course she didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, did she?”

“I told you I’m not answering any questions.”

She took his hand in hers and made it glide lower, under her T-shirt. It was a surprisingly hesitant hand; it very nearly fought against hers. Then the hand lay on her left breast, and she wondered if she could somehow manage to get rid of her bra without destroying the moment. In movies, these things happened so naturally; people were never wearing impractical clothing; there were never any hooks and eyes or buttons to get in the way.

“Anna,” whispered Abel. “I’m not sure …”

“Isn’t it enough if I’m sure?”

“But Micha …” He gave up and kept his hand where it was. And then he kissed her. And she thought, this is our third kiss, and wondered if it would be possible to count all the kisses in a lifetime or if there would be too many after a while. Though, with Abel, there wouldn’t be much danger of losing track. She tasted blood in his mouth—her lips must have cracked with the cold—or was she just imagining that? She tasted the sea, in which he had been floating unconscious, as a sea lion, inside a fairy tale. She tasted the
picture of a black net and of the sails that fell down like withered leaves … she wondered if she would ever meet him alone, without Micha.

With that guy, you’ll only have a relationship based on fucking, she heard Gitta say. Anything but, she thought. Oh, Gitta, anything but …

And then she heard the door—and voices in the hall. Never had a kiss ended so abruptly. Anna opened her eyes, looked at Abel, and smiled. He didn’t smile. He jumped up. She stood up, too, more slowly, and took his hand. “Wait,” she said quietly. “Don’t run away. Please. They don’t bite, you know.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

“Of course you should,” she said.

Micha woke up and yawned. “What’s going on?” she asked sleepily.

“We gotta go,” Abel said.

He looked around, in a panic, as if he wanted to run out into the yard and flee over the roofs. He pulled his hand from Anna’s. He seemed totally lost in the big living room, in the blue air, lost in an ocean full of clinking pieces of ice.

The living room door opened, and Magnus and Linda came in at almost the same time. Linda stopped, surprised. Then she smiled.

“I see,” she said, and now, she wasn’t smiling anymore; she was laughing, a gentle, blue laugh. “Does that explain it?”

“What?” Anna asked.

“Your secretiveness,” Magnus answered, shaking his head, setting his bag onto an armchair. “Yep, looks like that explains it.”

Abel didn’t say anything; he looked from Linda to Magnus and back again, like an animal in a trap, his eyes flickering nervously.

“This is Abel,” Anna said. “And that’s his sister, Micha.”

“Hello, Micha,” Linda said.

Magnus put out a hand, and Abel understood, with minimal delay, what was expected, and shook it. He still hadn’t said a word.

“Nice to meet you,” Magnus said in his low bass voice. “Are you at school with Anna?”

Abel nodded.

“I need some coffee urgently,” Magnus declared and turned toward the kitchen. “Anyone care to join me?”

“Micha probably doesn’t drink coffee,” Linda said. “Maybe hot chocolate would be the better choice?”

“Hot chocolate is a very good choice,” Micha said. “You have an awfully nice house. And so many books! I have been swinging in Anna’s hammock …”

“Micha,” Abel said and took her hand. “We have to go now.”

“Why do we have to go?” Micha asked. “Is it that late? We don’t have an appointment, do we? We could just …”

“Come on.” Abel pulled her in the direction of the door.

“Abel …” Anna said.

“Thank you for the offer of coffee,” Abel said putting on his parka. “But we actually do have an appointment. We totally forgot about the time.”

He helped Micha into her pink down jacket with the artificial fur collar, and before she could say any more, he shoved her out the door. Then he shut the door behind them.

Anna opened it again. “What the hell are you doing?” she called. “Come back, you idiot!”

But Abel had already lifted Micha onto the carrier of his bike.

“No,” he said. “Try to understand. There are too many thorns on the island of the rose people.”

“There weren’t any thorns until now!” Anna said in despair. “Until
right
now …”

“Think of what happened in the Mittendrin,” Abel said, and now his voice was sharp like the edges of ice floes in an ocean. “Come on. You said that they will be happy to see you, all these fine friends of yours, and then? What happened then? It will be the same with your parents.” He shook his head and got onto his bike.

“What’s he talking about?” Micha asked.

“I don’t think he knows,” Anna replied and went back in. She slammed the door shut behind her and tried to breathe steadily. Magnus came from the kitchen, carrying a cup.

“Heavens,” he said and put the cup down onto the dresser in the hall. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to Anna.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Wipe your tears away, I thought,” Magnus said.

“Strange.” Anna stared at the handkerchief in her hand. “This seems to happen to me a lot lately … that I’m crying and don’t even realize.”

“Come into the living room with me,” Magnus said in a commanding tone that he very rarely used. “And have a cup of coffee with us or a glass of whiskey, or whatever. But now, you’ll tell us what this is all about.”

“Okay,” said Anna.

They talked late into the night—or, rather, she talked. She was a traitor. She knew she was a traitor. It was none of Magnus and Linda’s business how Abel and Micha lived. But suddenly, it was as
if a dam had broken, a dam behind which more tears lay, a flood of tears, a flood of stammered, drowned words and half descriptions.

Linda made sandwiches so the tears had something on which to fall. Magnus put the whiskey aside and opened a bottle of white wine instead.

And in the end, he said, “Anna?”

“Yes?” Anna asked.

“What do you want us to do?” He looked at her, earnestly; it was an important question. “Tell us what you want us to do … to help. I am a very critical person. I’m not sure if I approve of this, but in love … you might think this is a stupid remark … but in love, there is no criticism. In love, there is no rationality. I’ll give you money if you need it. I will make calls on his behalf. Tell me what we should do.”

“I don’t know,” Anna said. “If I knew, everything would be easy. He won’t take money—he says he doesn’t want charity. He doesn’t want anyone to interfere. On some days, he acts like he doesn’t even know me. And after today … I …”

“Please, don’t start crying again,” Linda said gently, gently rubbing Anna’s back. “Everything will turn out all right.”

On Saturday, the body of a man was found under the sand and snow on the beach in Eldena. In the pocket of his leather jacket, there was a wallet with a driver’s license identifying him as Sören Marinke. He had been forty-four years old. His woolen sweater and the sheepskin lining of his jacket were stiff with frozen blood. Shot in the neck, the radio announcer reported.