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.”