Table of Contents
About the Author and Translator
Also by Jutta Richter
The Cat, Or, How I Lost Eternity
The Summer of the Pike
Sometimes we just gotta get away.
Anywhere it’s summer.
To the south . . . maybe.
To the sea . . . maybe.
Off we go and it smells like sun and wind.
Off we go and it smells like fish and tar and brine.
Off we go and the swallows are seagulls.
We turn the corner.
There’s the station.
And beyond the station,
We know for sure,
Beyond the station lies the sea.
THERE ARE GOOD DAYS, too.
The days of the farmers’ market, where the sellers give away their goods at the end for free. A container of overripe strawberries. Or the bananas with the brown spots. And the last of the cold sausages from the grill, along with the stale bread.
On the good days, Cosmos and Niner sit by the river in the evenings. They sit on the sandy beach, where the little fires are burning. The driftwood fires. The others sit a little farther down. Bald Pete and Harmonica Johnny, Red Elsa and Buddy Sloop with his glass eye. But Cosmos won’t have anything to do with that bunch. Those are the bums, the drunkards, the beach pirates, the bridge sleepers.
“We don’t belong here, Niner. Not us!” Cosmos says.
The container of overripe strawberries stands between them. And two plastic bags, bursting with everything Cosmos owns. Cosmos guards those bags like the apple of his eye. No one is allowed to look inside, not even Niner.
“You keep your paws off, sonny!” says Cosmos. “That’s my personal property!”
And Niner admires Cosmos because he’s all grown up and wears a baseball cap. And because he always pulls through, one way or another.
Cosmos is strong.
Cosmos knows his way around.
You can depend on Cosmos, though you can’t tell by looking at him, ’cause he turned out a bit too scrawny.
His eyes didn’t. They’re big and black and wise, a little like a crow’s, and when he’s angry those eyes shoot sparks. Then no one dares to touch him. Not even Bald Pete.
Cosmos has been out on the streets since forever. Or at least that’s what he says.
And actually Niner can’t imagine it any other way.
Cosmos knows everything.
Niner is a different story. Niner is only nine.
Niner has cold feet most of the time.
Niner ducks away.
The only thing Niner does well is balance; balance and climb. Niner climbs up house walls.
He used to practice climbing. Until just a week ago.
Mama had always left the window open, secretly. She left the window open all night. So Niner could climb in while everyone was sleeping.
“You’ve got to stay out of his way,” she had said. “The best thing is not to come till nighttime. At night he’s sleeping, and he can’t hurt you. I’ll leave the window open,” Mama said. “I’ll leave your dinner on the kitchen table. But you must be really quiet, understand? Just make yourself invisible, and nothing will happen to you.”
But then something happened to Mama, and they took her away in an ambulance with blue lights.
Now the window’s closed and Niner can’t get in. And there’s no dinner on the table. Not for eight days now.
THAT WAS THE FIRST time Niner was left all alone. Alone on the street, alone in the city, eight days and nights. And if he hadn’t met Cosmos, he wouldn’t have had a chance.
“You look like you ran away from home, and you walk like you want to be found.”
“And how would you know?”
“Because you jumped when I called out to you instead of turning around slowly. Now leave me alone!”
And Cosmos walked on. But after he’d taken a few steps, Niner ran after him.
“Wait up! Wait for me! Where’re you going?”
Cosmos pretended not to hear.
“I wanna go to the sea!”
Cosmos still pretended not to hear.
“It’s warm by the sea!” Niner yelled. “By the sea, it’s summer. By the sea, there are houses standing empty. We could go to the sea together.”
Suddenly, Cosmos stood still and looked like someone who knew exactly how to get to the sea.
“To the sea together?”
“Yeah. Together, you and me. I’m Niner,” he said, bowing and holding his hand out to Cosmos.
Cosmos shook it and said, “Cosmos. I’m Cosmos.”
ON THE GOOD DAYS, Cosmos and Niner sit by the river in the evenings. Behind them is the embankment, and behind that, a high retaining wall. Above are the gardens with the koi ponds. And among the gardens are white villas with alarm systems and columns, and the broad terraces that always seem so empty and deserted, ’cause there’s never anyone there in the evenings. Not even in the summer.
On the good days, Cosmos and Niner sit by the
