Mother Night Part 19

"Is that your your country's flag, too?" said the boss wryly. country's flag, too?" said the boss wryly.

"I'd have to look at it more closely," said Kraft.

"How does it feel to have such a long and distinguished career come to an end?" the boss asked Kraft.

"All careers do end," said Kraft. "That's something I've known for a long time."

"Maybe they'll make a movie of your life," said the boss.

Kraft smiled. "Maybe," he said. "I would want a lot of money for the rights."

"There's only one actor who could really play the part, though," said the boss. "He might be hard to get."

"Oh?" said Kraft. "Who is that?"

"Charlie Chaplin," said the boss. "Who else could play a spy who was steadily drunk from 1941 until 1948? Who else could play a Russian spy who built an apparatus composed almost entirely of American agents?"

Kraft's urbanity dropped away, revealing him as a pale and puckered old man. "That's not true!" he said.

"Ask your superiors, if you don't believe me," said the boss.

"They know?" said Kraft.

"They finally caught on," said the boss. "You were on your way home to a bullet in the back of your neck."

"Why did you save me?" said Kraft.

"Call it sentimentality," said the boss.

Kraft thought his situation over, and schizophrenia rescued him neatly. "None of this really concerns me," he said and his urbanity returned.

"Why not?" said the boss.

"Because I'm a painter," said Kraft. "That's the main thing I am."

"Be sure to bring your paintbox to prison," said the boss. He switched his attention to Resi. "You, of course, are Resi Noth," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"Have you enjoyed your little stay in our country?" said the boss.

"What am I supposed to say?" said Resi.

"Anything you like," said the boss. "If you have any complaints, I'll pa.s.s them on to the proper authorities. We're trying to increase the tourist trade from Europe, you know."

"You say very funny things," she said unsmilingly. "I am sorry I can't say funny things back. This is not a funny time for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the boss lightly.

"You aren't sorry," said Resi. "I am the only person who is sorry.

"I am sorry I have nothing to live for," said Resi. "All I have is love for one man, but that man does not love me. He is so used up that he can't love any more. There is nothing left of him but curiosity and a pair of eyes.

"I can't say anything funny," said Resi. "But I can show you something interesting."

Resi seemed to dab her lip with a finger. What she really did was put a little capsule of cyanide in her mouth.

"I will show you a woman who dies for love," she said.

Right then and there, Resi Noth pitched into my arms, stone dead.

40.

FREEDOM AGAIN...

I WAS ARRESTED WAS ARRESTED along with everyone else in the house. I was released within an hour, thanks, I suppose, to the intercession of my Blue Fairy G.o.dmother. The place where I was held so briefly was an unmarked office in the Empire State Building. along with everyone else in the house. I was released within an hour, thanks, I suppose, to the intercession of my Blue Fairy G.o.dmother. The place where I was held so briefly was an unmarked office in the Empire State Building.

An agent took me down on an elevator and out onto the sidewalk, restoring me to the mainstream of life. I took perhaps fifty steps down the sidewalk, and then I stopped.

I froze.

It was not guilt that froze me. I had taught myself never to feel guilt.

It was not a ghastly sense of loss that froze me. I had taught myself to covet nothing.

It was not a loathing of death that froze me. I had taught myself to think of death as a friend.

It was not heartbroken rage against injustice that froze me. I had taught myself that a human being might as well look for diamond tiaras in the gutter as for rewards and punishments that were fair.

It was not the thought that I was so unloved that froze me. I had taught myself to do without love.

It was not the thought that G.o.d was cruel that froze me. I had taught myself never to expect anything from Him.

What froze me was the fact that I had absolutely no reason to move in any direction. What had made me move through so many dead and pointless years was curiosity.

Now even that had flickered out.

How long I stood frozen there, I cannot say. If I was ever going to move again, someone else was going to have to furnish the reason for moving.

Somebody did.

A policeman watched me for a while, and then he came over to me, and he said, "You all right?"

"Yes," I said.

"You've been standing here a long time," he said.

"I know," I said.

"You waiting for somebody?" he said.

"No," I said.

"Better move on, don't you think?" he said.

"Yes, sir," I said.

And I moved on.

41.

CHEMICALS ...

FROM THE E EMPIRE State Building I walked downtown. I walked all the way to my old home in Greenwich Village, to Resi's and my and Kraft's old home. State Building I walked downtown. I walked all the way to my old home in Greenwich Village, to Resi's and my and Kraft's old home.

I smoked cigarettes all the way, began to think of myself as a lightning bug.

I encountered many fellow lightning bugs. Sometimes I gave the cheery red signal first, sometimes they. And I left the seash.e.l.l roar and the aurora borealis of the city's heart farther and farther behind me.

The hour was late. I began to catch signals of fellow lightning bugs trapped in upper stories.

Somewhere a siren, a tax-supported mourner, wailed.

When I got at last to my building, my home, all windows were dark save one on the second floor, one window in the apartment of young Dr. Abraham Epstein.

He, too, was a light ning bug.

He glowed; I glowed back.

Somewhere a motorcycle started up, sounded like a string of firecrackers.

A black cat crossed between me and the door of the building. "Ralph?" it said.

The entrance hall of the building was dark, too. The ceiling light did not respond to the switch. I struck a match, saw that the mailboxes had all been broken into.

In the wavering light of the match and the formless surroundings, the bent and gaping doors of the mailboxes might have been the doors of cells in a jail in a burning city somewhere.

My match attracted a patrolman. He was young and lonesome.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"I live here," I said. "This is my home."

"Any identification?" he said.

So I gave him some identification, told him the attic was mine.

"You're the reason for all this trouble," he said. He wasn't scolding me. He was simply interested.

"If you say so," I said.

"I'm surprised you came back," he said.

"I'll go away again," I said.

"I can't order you to go away," he said. "I'm just surprised you came back."

"It's all right for me to go upstairs?" I said.

"It's your home," he said. "n.o.body can keep you out of it."

"Thank you," I said.

"Don't thank me," he said. "It's a free country, and everybody gets protected exactly alike." He said this pleasantly. He was giving me a lesson in civics.

"That's certainly the way to run a country," I said.

"I don't know if you're kidding me or not," he said, "but that's right."

"I'm not kidding you," I said. "I swear I'm not." This simple oath of allegiance satisfied him.

"My father was killed on Iwo Jima," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I guess there were good people killed on both sides," he said.

"I think that's true," I said.

"You think there'll be another one?" he said.

"Another what?" I said.

"Another war," he said.

"Yes," I said.