Return From The Stars Part 22

"That you. . . would take me away."

"Yes "

"And he?"

"Then I shouldn't talk to him?" I asked, feeling stupid.

"Talk? You want to do it yourself?"

"Who else?"

"It has to be. . . the end?"

Something was choking me; I cleared my throat.

"Really, there's no other way."

"I thought it would be . . . a mesk."

"A what?"

"You don't know?"

"I understand nothing. No. I don't know. What is that?" I said, feeling an ominous chill. Again I had hit upon one of those sudden blanks, a mire of misunderstanding.

"It is like this. A man. . . a woman. . . if someone meets a person. . . if he wants, for a certain period of time. . . You really know nothing about this?"

"Wait, Eri. I don't know, but I think I'm beginning to. Is it something provisional, a kind of temporary suspension, an episode?"

"No," she said, and her eyes grew round. "You don't know what it is. . . I don't exactly know how it works myself," she admitted. "I've only heard about it. I thought that that was why you. . ."

"Eri, I'm completely in the dark. d.a.m.ned if I understand any of this. Does it have. . . ? In any case, it is connected in some way with marriage, right?"

"Well, yes. You go to an office, and there, I'm not exactly sure, but anyway, after that it's. . . it's. . ."

"It's what?"

"Independent. So that nothing can be said. No one. Including him. . ."

"So it is, after all. . . it is a kind of legalization -- well, h.e.l.l! -- a legalization of infidelity?"

"No. Yes. That is, it is not infidelity then -- no one speaks of it like that. I know what that means; I learned about it. There is no infidelity because, well, because after all Seon and I are only for a year."

"Wha-a-at?" I said, because I thought that I was not hearing correctly. "And what does that mean, for a year? Marriage for a year? For one year? Why?"

"It is a trial."

"Ye G.o.ds and little fishes! A trial. And what is a mesk? A notification for the following year?"

"I don't know what you mean. It is. . . it means that if the couple separates after a year, well, then the other arrangement becomes binding. Like a wedding."

"The mesk?"

"Yes."

"And if not, then what?"

"Then nothing. It has no significance."

"Aha, I think I see now. No. No mesk. Till death do us part. You know what that means?"

"I do. Mr. Bregg?"

"Yes."

"I'm completing my graduate studies in archeology this year. . ."

"I understand. You're letting me know that by taking you for an idiot I'm only making an idiot of myself."

She smiled.

"You put it too strongly."

"Yes. I'm sorry. Well, Eri, may I talk to him?"

"About what?"

My jaw fell. Here we go again, I thought.

"Well, what do you, for Christ's. . ." I bit my tongue. "About us."

"But that just isn't done."

"It isn't? Ah. Well, all right. And what is done?"

"One goes through the separation procedure. But, Mr. Bregg, really. . . I. . . can't do it this way."

"And in what way can you?"

She gave a helpless shrug.

"Does this mean we are back where we began yesterday evening?" I asked. "Don't be angry with me, Eri, for speaking like this, I am doubly handicapped, you see. I'm not familiar with all the formalities, customs, with what should be done and what shouldn't, even on a daily basis, so when it comes to things like. . ."

"No, I know. I know. But he and I. . . I. . . Seon. . ."

"I understand," I said. "Look here. Let's sit down."

"I think better when I stand."

"Please. Listen, Eri. I know what I should do. I should take you, as I said, and go away somewhere -- and I don't know how I have this certainty. Perhaps it only comes from my boundless stupidity. But it seems to me that eventually you could be happy with me. Yes. At the same time I -- observe -- am the type who. . . well, in a word, I don't want to do that. To force you. Thus the whole responsibility for my decision -- let's call it that -- falls on you. In other words, to make me be a swine not from the right side, but only from the left. Yes. I see that clearly. Very clearly. So now tell me just one thing -- what do you prefer?"

"The right."

"What?"

"The right side of the swine."

I began to laugh. Perhaps a little hysterically.

"My G.o.d. Yes. Good. Then I can talk to him? Afterward. That is, I would come back here alone. . ."

"No."

"It isn't done like that? Perhaps not, but I feel I ought to, Eri."

"No. I. . . please, please. Really. No!"

Suddenly tears fell from her eyes. I put my arms around her.

"Eri! No. It's no, then. I'll do whatever you want, but don't cry. I beg you. Because. . . don't cry. Stop, all right? But then. . . cry if you. . . I don't. . ."

"I didn't know that it could be. . . so. . ." she sobbed.

I carried her around the room.

"Don't cry, Eri. . . You know what? We will go away for. . . a month. How about that? Then later, if you want, you can return."

"Please," she said, "please."

I put her down.

"Not like that? I don't know anything. I thought. . ."

"Oh, the way you are! Should do, shouldn't do. I don't want this! I don't!"

"The right side grows larger all the time," I said with an unexpected coldness. "Very well, then, Eri. I won't consult you any more. Get dressed. We'll eat breakfast and go."

She looked at me with her tear-streaked face. Was strangely intent. Frowned. I had the impression that she wanted to say something and that it would not be flattering to me. But she only sighed and went out without a word. I sat at the table. This sudden decision of mine -- like something out of a romance about pirates -- had been a thing of the moment. In fact I was as resolute as a weather vane. I felt like a heel. How could I? How could I? I asked myself. Oh, what a mess!

In the half-open doorway stood Olaf.

"Old man," he said, "I am very sorry. It is the height of indiscretion, but I heard. Couldn't help hearing. You should close your door, and besides, you have such a healthy voice. Hal -- you surpa.s.s yourself. What do you want from the girl, that she should throw herself into your arms because once you went down into that hole on. . . ?"

"Olaf!" I snarled.

"Only calm can save us. So the archeologist has found a nice site. A hundred and sixty years, that's already antiquity, isn't it?"

"Your sense of humor. . ."

"Doesn't appeal to you. I know. Nor does it to me. But where would I be, old man, if I couldn't see through you? At your funeral, that's where. Hal, Hal. . ."

"I know my name."

"What is it you want? Come, Chaplain, fall in. Let's eat and take off."

"I don't even know where to go."

"By chance, I do. Along the sh.o.r.e there are still some small cabins to rent. You two take the car. . ."

"What do you mean -- you take the car. . . ?"

"What else? You prefer the Holy Trinity? Chaplain. . ."

"Olaf, if you don't stop it. . ."

"All right. I know. You'd like to make everybody happy: me, her, that Seol or Seon -- no, it won't work. Hal, we'll leave together. You can drop me off at Houl. I'll take an ulder from there."

"Well," I said, "a nice vacation I'm giving you!"

"I'm not complaining, so don't you. Perhaps something will come of it. But enough for now. Come on."

Breakfast took place in a strange atmosphere. Olaf spoke more than usual, but into the air. Eri and I hardly said a word. Afterward, the white robot brought the gleeder, and Olaf took it to Clavestra to get the car. The idea came to him at the last minute. An hour later the car was in the garden, I loaded it with my belongings, Eri also brought her things -- not all her things, it seemed to me, but I didn't ask; we did not, in fact, converse at all. And so, on a sunny day that grew very hot, we drove first to Houl -- a little out of our way -- and Olaf got out there; it was only in the car that he told me he had rented a cottage for us.

There was no farewell as such.

"Listen," I said, "if I let you know . . . you'll come?"

"Sure. I'll send you my address."

"Write to the post office at Houl," I said.

He gave me his firm hand. How many hands like that were left on Earth? I held it so hard that my fingers cracked, then, not looking back, I got behind the wheel. We drove for less than an hour. Olaf had told me where to find the little house. It was small -- four rooms, no pool -- but at the beach, right on the sea. Pa.s.sing rows of brightly colored cottages scattered across the hills, we saw the ocean from the road. Even before it appeared, we heard its m.u.f.fled, distant thunder.

From time to time I glanced at Eri. She was silent, stiff, only rarely did she look out at the changing landscape. The house -- our house -- was supposed to be blue, with an orange roof. Touching my lips with my tongue, I could taste salt. The road turned and ran parallel to the sandy sh.o.r.eline. The ocean, its waves seemingly motionless because of the distance, joined its voice to the roar of the straining engine.

The cottage was one of the last along the road. A tiny garden, its bushes gray from the salt spray, bore the traces of a recent storm. The waves must have come right up to the low fence: here and there lay empty sh.e.l.ls. The slanting roof jutted out in front, like the fancifully folded brim of a flat hat, and gave a great deal of shade. Behind a large, gra.s.sy dune the neighboring cottage could be seen, some six hundred paces away. Below, on the half-moon beach, were the tiny shapes of people.

I opened the car door.

"Eri."

She got out without a word. If only I knew what was going on behind that furrowed forehead. She walked beside me to the door.

"No, not like that," I said. "You're not supposed to walk across the threshold."

"Why?"

I lifted her up.