He gives me his identity card and other papers. I throw everything into the fire.
I ask, "Why do you want to leave?"
"That's not your business. Show me the way, that's all I ask. I'll give you all the money I have."
He puts banknotes on the table.
I say, "It's no great sacrifice to leave that much behind. Anyway it's not worth anything on the other side."
He says, "But here, for a young fellow like you, it's worth quite a bit."
I throw the bills into the fire.
"You know, I don't need money that much. I have everything I want here."
We watch the money burn. I say, "You can't cross the frontier without risking your life."
The man says, "I know."
I say, "You should also know that I could turn you in right now. There's a border post right across from my house, and I collaborate with them. I'm an informer."
Very pale, the man says, "An informer, at your age?"
"Age has nothing to do with it. I've turned in a number of people who wanted to cross the frontier. I see and report on everything that goes on in the forest."
"But why?"
"Because sometimes they send in plants to see if I inform on them or not. Until now I was forced to report them whether they were plants or not."
"Why until now?"
"Because tomorrow I'm crossing the frontier with you. I want to get out of here too."
A little before noon the next day we cross the frontier.
The man walks in front and doesn't have a hope. Near the second barrier a land mine goes off and takes him with it. I walk behind him and risk nothing.
I watch the empty square until late into the night. When I finally go to bed, I dream.
I go down to the river; my brother is there, sitting on the bank, fishing. I sit down beside him.
"You getting many?"
"No. I was waiting for you."
He stands and packs up his rod. "It's been a long time since there were fish here. There isn't even water anymore."
He reaches for a rock and throws it at the other rocks in the dried-up river.
We walk toward town. I stop in front of a house with green shutters. My brother says, "Yes, it was our house. You recognized it."
I say, "Yes, but it wasn't here before. It was in another town."
My brother corrects me: "In another life. And now it's here and it's empty."
We reach Central Square.
In front of the bookshop door two little boys are sitting on the stairs that lead up to the living quarters.
My brother says, 'Those are my sons. Their mother is gone."
We go into the kitchen. My brother makes the evening meal. The children eat in silence, not raising their eyes.
I say, 'They're happy, your sons."
"Very happy. I'm going to put them to bed."
When he returns he says, "Let's go to my room."
We go into the large room and my brother retrieves a bottle hidden behind the books on the shelves.
"This is all that's left. The barrels are empty."
We drink. My brother strokes the red plush tablecloth.
"You see, nothing's changed. I kept everything. Even this hideous tablecloth. Tomorrow you can move in to the house."
I say, "I don't want to. I'd rather play with your children."
My brother says, "My children don't play."
"What do they do?"
"They are preparing to make it through life."
I say, "I made it through life and haven't found anything."
My brother says, "There's nothing to find. What were you looking for?"
"You. It's because of you that I came back."
My brother laughs. "Because of me? You know very well that I'm just a dream. You must accept that. There is nothing anywhere."
I am cold and stand up.
"It's late. I have to go back."
"Go back? Where?"
'To the hotel."
"What hotel? You're at home here. I'm going to introduce you to our parents."
"Our parents? Where are they?"
My brother points at the brown door that leads into the other half of the apartment.
'There. They're asleep."
'Together?"
"As ever."
I say, "They shouldn't be woken up."
My brother says, "Why not? They'll be overjoyed to see you after all these years."
I step backward toward the door.
"No, no, I don't want to see them again."
My brother grabs my arm. "You don't want to, you don't have to. I see them every day. You should see them at least once, just once!"
My brother pulls me toward the brown door; with my free hand I grab a very heavy glass ashtray from the table and hit him on the back of the neck with it.
My brother's forehead slams into the door and he falls. There is blood on the floor all around his head.
I leave the house and sit on a bench. An enormous moon lights the empty square.
An old man stops in front of me and asks for a cigarette. I offer him one, as well as a light.
He stays there, standing in front of me, smoking his cigarette.
After a few moments he asks, "So, then, you killed him?"
I say, "Yes."
The old man says, "You did what you had to do. That's good. Few people do what must be done."
I say, "It was because he wanted to open the door."
"You did well. It was good that you stopped him. You had to kill him. With that everything falls into order, the order of things."
I say, "But he won't be here anymore. Order doesn't mean much to me if he isn't here anymore."
The old man says, "On the contrary. From now on he'll always be with you wherever you go."
The old man moves off; he rings at the door of a little house and goes in.
When I wake up the square has already been busy for quite some time. People are moving around it on foot or by bicycle. There are very few cars. The shops are open, including the bookseller's. The hotel corridors are being vacuumed.
I open my door and call out to the cleaning woman: "Could you bring me a cup of coffee?"
She turns around; it is a young woman with very black hair.
'I'm not allowed to serve the guests, sir, I'm just a cleaning woman. We don't have room service. There's a restaurant and a bar."
I go back into my room, brush my teeth, shower, then climb back in under the covers. I'mcold.
There is a knock at the door. The cleaning woman comes in and sets a tray down on the night table.
"You can pay for the coffee at the bar whenever you like."
She lies down beside me on the bed and offers me her lips. I turn my head away.
"No, my lovely one. I'm old and ill."
She stands and says, "I have very little money. The work I do is very badly paid. I'd like to give my son a dirt bike as a birthday present. And I have no husband."
"I understand."
I give her a banknote without knowing if it is too little or too much; I still haven't figured out the prices of things here.
Around three in the afternoon I go out.
I walk slowly. Nevertheless, after half an hour I come to the end of the town. Where Grandmother's house used to be there is a very well-maintained athletic field. Children are playing on it.
For a long time I sit on the riverbank, then I return to town. I pass through the old section, the little streets around the castle; I climb up to the cemetery but cannot find Grandmother's grave.
Every day I walk like this for hours on end through every part of town. Especially through the narrow streets where the houses have sunk into the earth and their windows are at ground level. Sometimes I sit in a park or on the low walls of the castle or on a tomb in the cemetery. When I'm hungry I go into a little bistro and eat what it has to offer. Then I drink with the workers. No one recognizes me, no one remembers me.