Suddenly, Love

16

THE WINTER HAS BECOME HARSHER, AND IRENA’S EFFORTS to lift Ernst from the depression into which he has sunk all fail. She stands before him and lists all the dishes she has prepared. If he doesn’t respond, she recites the list again, and if he doesn’t respond to that, she knows she mustn’t disturb him further.

Ernst writes until late at night and sleeps no more than four hours. “At my age, there’s no need for too much sleep.” His opinion is firm. Irena feels that four hours of sleep are not enough. True, Ernst dozes off in the afternoon, but he doesn’t sleep. “Don’t pay attention to me,” he says when depression assails him. Irena complies with his request and doesn’t enter his room unless he calls her. In her heart she knows that Ernst’s depression arrives as a stubborn and intransigent wave and that until it passes he will lie curled up in bed.

Last fall Ernst took some bundles of manuscripts out of a drawer and said to Irena, “These are the books I wrote and never finished.”

“One day you’ll sit down and finish them,” Irena said, and hoped he would not contradict her.

“I’ll never finish them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re unworthy.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, frightened at his words.

Ernst struggles with life and with writing. He cannot change his life, but he is trying to give a new form to his writing. It is no longer descriptions of experiences and a mass of details, but only what is most necessary. For years he tried to write about human beings without any ethnic traits. He called his heroes Eldorado, Homer, and other names taken from ancient myths. They fought for justice, loyalty, and purity. But since Irena’s arrival in his home, many things in his life have changed. For years he tried to avoid contemplating his life, to ignore it, to build floating towers on it. Now his life is coming back to him like a spirit returning from the dead, and he knows that it seeks correction.

Rain falls without pause, the drops covering the windows. Most likely Ernst won’t go out to the café today. He’s sitting at his desk, copying. When Ernst copies something, it means he has a passage or a chapter that he wants to preserve. When he makes a copy, his handwriting is clear and without flourishes. He sits at his desk until noon.

“There’s fresh vegetable soup,” Irena announces ceremoniously.

“Thank you.”

Irena knows that there’s nothing like vegetable soup to lift Ernst out of the darkness. His struggle against depression is fierce. There were times when he lay in bed all day, but now Irena won’t allow him to give in to his pain. She invents all sorts of ruses and temptations to bring him to the table. Good food, she believes, can extricate him from his distress.

Sometimes, to make him happy, Irena wears her embroidered blouse and matching skirt, and she puts on makeup and earrings. Ernst is very pleased to see Irena in festive clothing.

I’ll do whatever you ask me to do, she wants to tell him. Ernst usually refuses to accept help. Even when he’s weak, he doesn’t want her to support him, not to mention wash him. Ernst is a proud man, and his pride is evident in his erect bearing. After the operation he was forced to accept assistance, but only to a slight degree. I’ll live as long as my legs can carry me. If I can’t walk, life is meaningless. When he goes out, striding confidently along, his weakness is not visible.

Irena serves Ernst soup and asks, “Is it good?”

“Very tasty.” That’s the answer she likes to hear. It’s a sign that the depression is lifting and that the light will soon return to his face.

“How is it outside?”

“Rainy and windy.”

“But now it seems to have stopped.”

As Ernst sits and sips the soup, his usual demeanor gradually returns, and a thin, ironic smile pinches his lips. Irena knows that smile very well. In a moment he will make some critical remark about himself or his situation. After lunch he shaves, dresses, and says, “I’m going to the café.”

“It’s cold out.”

“I like the cold.”

Ernst puts on his gray suit and his winter coat, wraps a thin woolen scarf around his neck, and says, “See you later.” After he leaves Irena feels a secret pride in her success, and for a long while she is wrapped in joy.