very silence, Thomas thought. The innermost essence of silence: the silence of death. Everything ends. Everything has ended. A long time passed and a short time passed. The late afternoon light fell softly through the armor-plated window. A glimpse of greenish sky. The cell was impersonal, lacking any trace of their father, who had lived here for four weeks. Maybe the staff had cleaned it up before they’d arrived. The nurse popped her head in the room. The car was ready. Jenny sniffled and shot a final glance at the body on the cot. When they exited the cell, they saw two porters rolling the folded-up stretcher from one end of the hallway to the other; they also saw the thick plastic body bag their father would be stuffed into, but they didn’t stop to see him being wheeled off. The nurse followed them out and shook their hands. Then they signed a piece of paper, and the package with their father’s possessions was placed into Thomas’s hand. The heavy doors fell shut behind them. Jenny looked about for the ambulance when they were outside in the fresh air, but neither one of them could see it. “Maybe it’s parked on the other side of the prison,” Jenny said. A bird tweeted cheerfully in a tree above them. “Don’t you think? Don’t you think there’s a parking lot on the other side?” She sounded so anxious. “Yes, probably,” he said. She tucked her arm under his. “I’m quite certain there’s a parking lot over there, aren’t you?” Then they walked along the huge, wet lawns observing the green and rose-pink sky, and as though automatically they headed in the direction of the train station cafeteria, where they sat next to the window and ordered the weak coffee they served with a whole lot of sugar. They froze like icicles. “We’re parentless now,” Jenny said, her lips quivering. Then she went silent. It was as if they were children again, slouching wordlessly at a small gray table under a slightly too-bright source of light. Just like they used to in the evenings in the kitchen at home. There’s something childish about us, Thomas thought. That’s what we have in common.
Patricia clutches his arm and picks up the pace. The sun’s so clear and strong that it stings their eyes. In the light, her dark hair has a reddish sheen. She squeezes his arm. “Can you and Maloney hire Alice for the store? She needs to get out of that apartment. You think she could clean, or something?”
“I don’t know, we’ve already got Eva, you know. I can’t just fire her. And every position is filled. Peter’s apprenticing. We won’t be rid of him for another two years.”
“I just think we ought to help her, Thomas. She’s smart enough, don’t you think? And after all, she’s your only niece. And mine. She’s the only child in the family.”
“She’s not a child.”
“Yes, she is. An overgrown child.”
“Didn’t you mention a job at the museum?”
“I’ll look into it tomorrow. I just thought it would be good for her to spend time with you, that you could maybe train her.”
He scrutinizes her.
“What?” she asks.
“Do you really think it’d be good for her to spend time with me? Don’t you think it’d be better for her to get away from all this shit as fast as she can, especially her mother and her family? She’s young. She could get the fuck out of here.”
“Get away? How? With what? They’re living off nothing. Now they have this Ernesto eating their food, too, it looks like.”
“And some food it is.”
“Yeah, that soup was something else.”
“It was inedible.”
“But back to Alice—she’ll have to save up some money before she can start her own life. Wouldn’t you agree?”
They’ve reached the platform and can see the approach road as well as scattered fields planted with evergreens. In other places the evergreens are interspersed with wild, young deciduous trees and thickets. A yard with tall stacks of brown cardboard surrounds a shed and the squat gray building of a recycling center. To the right of that, a discount supermarket. They can just make out the river that snakes around Jenny’s part of the city. As if the river’s avoiding this tainted area, where the schools are terrible and the child mortality rate, poor nutrition, learning difficulties, criminality, and drug abuse are well above the median. Jenny has lived out here since Alice was born. Back then there was hope; there were new constructions—parks, playgrounds, schools with façades painted in bright colors. There was a community center, a library, a sports arena. Here, it was believed, the children would play in the fresh air and the adults would help each other build a real community. Everyone would thrive. In less than twenty years the whole project has hit the skids. Now there’s neither money nor the will to do anything about it. All the idealistic students who’d begun their lives out here have long since departed, handing the area to those forced to remain.
“Isn’t that right, Thomas? She needs to save money.”
He nods distractedly.
“Could you at least talk to Maloney? He knows Jenny too. Would you do that?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll try.”
“Should we to go to the movies?”
The train rolls in. Before he does anything else, Thomas wants to go home with his packets. But of course he can’t say that.
That’s how he ends up seeing a two and a half hour-long film, as the packets dig deeper and deeper into the skin of his belly. He doesn’t dare shift them. He tries to fall asleep. Patricia squeezes his now clammy hand and eats popcorn with the other. The film has prolonged stretches without dialogue. It’s set in an attractive but crumbling city. Patricia whispers: “Look at that. See how beautifully it’s filmed.” Every sex scene turns Thomas on, and that doesn’t help ease his discomfort. He slurps soda, which gradually grows lukewarm and flat, and then he dozes off, but Patricia yanks on his arm. “You’re snoring!” He wants to straighten himself up in his seat, but he can’t because of the packets. When the film’s over, she insists that they eat a proper dinner after eating that awful soup, and she pulls him through the streets and down alleys and even deeper into the oldest quarter in the city down more alleys, until they stand outside the narrow, black-lacquered door of a little restaurant. There she orders kebab and several salads and a bottle of red wine that has a thick and revolting taste of raisins and barrels of oak. Still, they swig it down rather quickly, and when it’s empty, Patricia takes his face in her hands and pulls him across the table, planting a wet kiss on his mouth. “I love you,” she says hoarsely, smiling in the glow of the candlelight. “Last night was amazing. You’re so wonderful, honey.”
He leans back in his chair. “I thought you said I was strange?”
“You are strange. And wonderful.”
“So are you. Are you ovulating?” He can’t help himself.
“If I’m ovulating then that’s my business.” Patricia glares at him, cool, disappointed. “And if you want to know when I’m ovulating, then you’ll have to pay attention to my cycle yourself. And if you don’t want to get me pregnant when I’m ovulating, then you’ll have to take care of that yourself. I love you even when I’m ovulating, Thomas. But seriously, why must you ruin my happiness at being here with you? Why do you feel this need to do that?” As she talks, she shakes her head slightly.
“You know very well it has nothing to do with you, hon. I just don’t want kids. We’ve discussed this a thousand times. I don’t want kids, Patricia. I really don’t.”
“And
