He decided to place his trust in a part of himself that was not his head and that — unlike his head — had never betrayed him.
45. Whence
Fanny was smart and had figured out her options a long time ago — there would be either proud silence, followed by unexpected retreat; or a bubbly, chatty attempt at re-education with the end-goal of caging the specimen. In the first case, the person in question acquired a romantic aura and became the source of suffering. In the second case, he inevitably turned out to be a miserable loser who quickly lost her interest.
In some distant, youthful past she had tried both alternatives, and both had ended with the need to replace the object of love, either immediately or after a period of solitude. When she established beyond doubt that the result was the same either way, she changed her approach. Thus her life became something like a think tank with a mission to discover a winning strategy.
So far her think tank’s best product was the icy beauty that projected its competence like an indomitable fortress. Buttressed with moderate additions of wide-ranging consumerist appeal.
But she could still hear the voiceless call of the bien-être, reminding her that this was not it. And yet, proud of her trophies, proud of her sophisticated self-made product called “Fanny,” Fanny kept going. Anger served her as a battering ram, fear gave her the self-containing rigidity of armor.
When Valentin had entered her field of vision, so young and ridiculous, she had given him three days, a week at most.
For some inexplicable reason, however, he was still around, two months later. He seemed absorbed by problems of his own. She never managed to get a coherent story out of him. Then that girl, his twin, also appeared. And the whole Christmas brouhaha.
Fanny was back from Athens, but the fretful desire for something different was still there. She was sitting in the reception room of her gallery, staring idly.
How was she to find him, that little boy, Valentin, who, on top of everything, bore an idle name suggesting love?
He had left with his sister. Fanny had almost had to throw them out in order to put a stop to their insistent offer to help with the cleaning. Poor things, they imagined that she would clean with her own bare hands.
She couldn’t understand why she was unable to get these two creatures out of her mind. They belonged to a world that had no overlap with hers. She had allowed some mix-up to happen, only because, when she had come home that late afternoon on Christmas Eve, she had found brother and sister sitting by a lit fire and a decorated Christmas tree. At first, she had been dumbfounded by their half-entreating suggestion to organize a party. These two disgracefully innocuous creatures had dared think the Snow Queen’s palace might be open to guests.
But then something had just switched in her, unnoticed. She only remembered that at some point she did not want to refuse them anything anymore. As if the spirit of Christmas had sent them down to her and they had won her over. How could that have happened?
There had to be some kind of explanation. They were very odd together. They had a strong family resemblance, as all twins, but so much so that you simply couldn’t take your eyes off them. Incredibly beautiful, although in an unsophisticated way. Not to her taste. But still, if she could only compare them to something and get rid of their ridiculous spellbinding charm. And surprise, surprise — they looked like elves! Valentin, whom she knew from before, had not made that impression on her when alone. It worked only in combination with his sister.
Fanny was enchanted by the thought, feeling that she could finally be free. She would now be able to go back to her previous life. It wasn’t Valentin who intrigued her so. Thank goodness! But this face, half-boy and half-girl, which they shared together. She remembered that they had produced the same effect on Mr. V.
She decided to call at her mother’s place and wish her and Mr. V. a happy New Year.
46. The Thing One Cannot Do Without
No one knew where Boris was. He himself made sure to forget where he was, absorbed, as usual, in whatever he was doing. He was sitting and speaking into a Dictaphone, transferring his voice to the tape — a one-way process, in the order of things.
Christmas fireworks crackled outside, but Boris was oblivious to them. No sound or light could reach him. Over time he had mastered his ability to isolate himself completely, as if in a coffin, extinguishing his senses, letting his neurons do their work and communicate on their own. The voice he was recording on the tape could hardly be called his voice. Those who had heard it speak were so few. Apart from that little girl, Margarita. But she was of no importance.
Maria had appeared as the only possible other person in his life. He had recognized her at first sight. He met her in the street, the only place where there was any probability of meeting her, as he did not socialize with people at all. He had stopped short in his stride and turned to follow her. She immediately turned back and he saw her looking at him with her eyes, the color of fog. They were in front of her house and she invited him to come in.
The rest was of no importance. What happened was simply the stuff of fairy tales. In just a few short pages an entire life unfolded. The astonishing thing was that he always imagined something like this would never happen to him. There. He came in and… he came out.
Now he was back to where he had always been. And where he would have remained, if it wasn’t for that little girl, Margarita, who had fallen asleep in his suitcase.
And if it wasn’t for his own voice, which he heard through her ears. But after all, that also would come to be of no importance. Just like everything else.
47. Snow
When Maria failed to come back before nightfall, the old couple became worried. The baby was quiet. The old woman prepared milk, according to her own recipe, and the baby liked it very much. Everything was fine with the child, but it was getting dark outside, it was snowing, and they didn’t know what to do. There was no such thing as a telephone in the house.
When it became completely dark, the old man put on his fur coat, took a gas lamp and went outside to try and wade his way through the snow to the nearest neighbors. They had a telephone.
Time passed. The baby fell asleep again, the wick of the other gas lamp was visibly coming to its end, and the old woman was bustling about the house, doing her unending chores.
At a certain point the old man came back, covered in snow, and stomped his feet at the threshold. He said that tomorrow, when it was daylight again, they were to send people to look for Maria.
48. New Year’s and Other Kinds of Beginnings
During the week between Christmas and New Year’s, while Fanny was in Athens, while Philip was struggling to listen to his body and not to his head, while Mr. V. and Madame loved each other, while Raya played hide-and-seek with her daughter, while Boris was away, and while Rallie and her friends were barely surviving, Valentin and Margarita were alone in the house.
It wasn’t the first time. Every now and then, Maria would disappear for a few days and they wouldn’t know where she was.
When an unfamiliar voice on the phone asked if Maria was at home, Margarita was alone. There followed a long and painful conversation, equally confusing for both parties. Then the phone fell silent for another day.
When it rang again, Valentin recognized the voice of his father. But hardly. Now the voice prohibited contradiction; it demanded. It insisted that Valentin come to the hospital to see his father immediately, but no mention of this should be made to Margarita.