I cracked up. The tone of her voice, those hands on her hips, and what she was talking about, just cracked me up. Both of us broke into that kid-silly laughter that happens when you're too tired or giddy to be in control of either yourself or your emotions. Forty-year-old Luc walking around her apartment in a pair of lilac panties with little white flowers over the crotch was too much.
While we laughed, I unconsciously took the snapshot and put it straight up by one of its corners on the tip of my finger, as if to balance it there. But when I took my other hand away, the picture stayed perched, vertically, on the finger. It didn't move, not even a bit. Fascinated, I wiggled my whole hand, but the card stayed straight up. I looked at Maris, but she was staring goggle eyed.
"Walker, how do you do that?"
"I don't know. It's just happening."
"Come on, tell me. It's wonderful! Can you do other tricks?"
Uncomfortable now, I took the picture off my finger then put it back. It stood just as straight as a moment before. I took it off and put it on – again and again, until I got the jitters. Maris was enchanted.
That night I dreamed I was an infant lying in a crib of gold and fur. A woman with very long amber hair spilling around her face was looking down at me. Although I was very young, no more than a few months old, I understood her when she spoke.
"I've done everything, but I never knew there were so many names: Klodwig, Mamertus, Markwart, Nepomuk. People coming from everywhere, everywhere, with new names: Odo, Onno, Ratbod, Ratward, Pankratius . . ."
She put her face in her hands and began to cry.
That is all I remember of the dream. When I woke, Maris was lying asleep across my left arm, so I could barely feel my fingers out there on the edge of my body. It was strange, a night thing, knowing part of you was near but gone at the same time.
4.
I was making a commercial for mineral water the day Luc arrived in Vienna. But somehow I knew he was there. From the moment he stepped off the train at the Westbahnhof and started looking for a phone booth, I knew. And that didn't really surprise me; I'd had the feeling all along I would instinctively know when he approached Maris's and my planet. He was simply too dangerous a force: a meteor careening out of control, that gave off all kinds of waves as it sped across space toward us.
He arrived at seven in the morning and by seven-ten was on the phone with Nicholas, demanding to know where Maris was. Nicholas was a heavy sleeper and usually didn't go to bed until very late. It isn't hard to imagine how he felt when he realized who was calling. Eva Sylvian said she had no idea who it was because Nicholas spoke to the Frenchman in a quiet and reasonable voice. The only strange thing was he said "nein" every few words. Eva was only half-awake when the call came through, but she said she distinctly remembered Nicholas saying no at least ten times in the short conversation.
Where was she? Nicholas had better tell him right now. Nein.
Just give him a phone number where she could be reached. That way she could decide for herself if she wanted to see him. Nein.
Did Sylvian realize what Luc could do to him if he kept up this shit? Nein.
Und so weiter.
Nicholas was flying to Tel Aviv the next day to meet with an Israeli producer. Because he'd be gone a while, we three had had a farewell coffee together a week before. Naturally, Luc came up in the conversation. But after screaming with laughter at the Luc-in-Maris's-underwear story, Nicholas brushed him off as if he were a fly on his hand. Even if "that idiot" did show up, he would be taken care of. Maris asked how, but only got a smile and a vague shrug for an answer. My director friend loved intrigue and strange situations. Our adventure in Munich had made him happy for weeks afterward. In retrospect, I know he was delighted to have Luc in Vienna that day, because Nicholas had been planning a scene with him ever since we'd returned.
So, instead of packing his bag for Israel that morning, he surprised Luc by making a date to meet in front of the Burg Theatre at noon. Eva was wide awake by then and watched her husband across the bed smile like a bandit who has just cracked a safe. He made two other calls before getting up and whistling all the way to the shower. Life was about to become art.
The whore's name was Helene Kцstlich (Delicious) who, from afar, looked a good deal like Maris. Nicholas had also given her a photograph so that when the time came, she could make herself up to look as much as possible like the woman in the picture. He'd used Helene to play a bit part in one of his films, so she was glad to do him a favor.
Goldstar owned an old but perfectly kept Jaguar sedan that had been given to him the year he won the European boxing championship. Behind the wheel he looked like an Easter Island statue with arms. Originally, he'd offered to beat Luc up, but Nicholas wanted something more interesting than that: He wanted theatre.
He called Helene Delicious, told her to put on the "Maris look," and dress in the sluttiest outfit she had. Today was the day! Goldstar picked both of them up and drove to the Burg Theatre. Although it was the middle of December, he was attired in an all-white polyester suit and a hideous matching red tie and shirt Nicholas had supplied for the occasion. The three of them must have looked like they were going to a photo session with Diane Arbus.
When they arrived at the theatre, Luc was nowhere to be seen. Ten minutes later he came ambling out of the Cafй Landtmann next door, cool as could be. Nicholas got out and happily walked over to meet him. Luc looked his way, then at the car. From that distance he could only dimly see the woman inside. Was it Maris? In a gold lame dress with a neckline that fell below his line of vision? Topped by a foxy Tina Turner wig? And who was the gorilla sitting next to her? "Maris" waved at Luc at the same time the gorilla started climbing out of the car. Nicholas had directed Goldstar to take his time so his entrance would be that much more impressive.
Luc asked what was going on. Nicholas innocently said Maris had agreed to see him, but first he would have to ask permission of "her friend," who was fast approaching.
The conversation that followed between the two men went something like this, after Goldstar took out a knife and held it open to his own nose.
"You want her back? You can't have her. That ends that discussion. You want to fuck her? First you have to fuck with me.
"She told me about you, asshole. You like to slap girls around and then walk around in their underpants? Why don't you come to work for me, too? I'll let you wear all those things – bra, silk panties . . . We'll even buy you some Tampax too: to put up your ass! I bet you got a nice ass, huh? Tight, very fuckable."
To Luc's credit, he stayed calm and asked nicely if he could speak to Maris a moment. Goldstar turned and yelled the request back to the car. Helene Delicious rolled down the window and gave them the finger.
"I guess that means no, Luc." Goldstar folded the knife and put it back in his pocket. "Maybe she doesn't like guys who kick her ass, then wear her underpants. You got to be one or the other, you know? You got to be one or the other, right, Nicholas?"
On the phone to us later, Nicholas said Goldstar overdid it a little, but it worked. Maris said it sounded like he overdid it about 500 percent. But I could tell she was both tickled and relieved. No matter how brave a front she'd put on since the bad days in Munich, knowing Luc was simmering in his crazy juices somewhere on the same continent worried her terribly. At night she spoke in her sleep. Although I didn't tell her, what she said was too often loud and frantic and disturbing. Walking into a restaurant, she'd seen someone who looked so much like him that she'd started to bolt. Only at the last moment did she realize the man's hair color was completely different. Maris isn't the kind of person who runs away from things. I sensed this from the first, and it's still so now.