Maybe This Time

a meadow – places he thought were known only to the two of them. However, there she was, reclining or standing with others in these places, laughing and serious and mischievous, alone or with someone or in a group.

He let his gaze wander, again and again, from person to person, looking for her or for the one whose eyes she sought. One picture showed the two of them in a group. They looked startled, as couples always are in such situations.

Water dripped in the bathroom. He followed the sound and sat on the side of the bath.

Drops fell from the shower head. She had taken a shower before leaving the house. He turned the tap on and off, and on again, and held his hand, and then his arm, under the stream of water. He looked at the dress she had worn to work and thought of a time they had gone to the zoo, when they had seen a lamb being born. She had drawn his attention to it, calling him by the wrong name.

It was dark now. He turned on the light and then switched it off when he realized that it could be seen from outside.

Perhaps she was out there just then, perhaps she was crossing the park or sitting in the cafe, looking up towards him, right now, at this moment. Perhaps she had been doing so the whole time, just as he had often done when he had arranged to meet friends at the cafe so that he could sit with them on the terrace. But in truth it was only to be near her or simply watch the light in her window go on or off.

He often followed her right up to her house. He watched her go through the door and disappear inside. He sat beneath the willow or in the park waiting to see if she would come to the window and pull the shades or open the window and smoke a cigarette, looking down on the square or over to the playground, the swing or the boat, wherever.

Once he actually passed the house and, by chance, looked up as she stood by her window. For a second he thought she had waved to him or made a sign. But since he couldn’t be sure whether it was meant for him or not, he continued on his way without looking back.

He had been drawn to the places they had shared and had returned to them again and again. But that was years ago.

The phone rang again. An irritated man’s voice on the answering machine asked how much longer she intended to keep him waiting and whether he should come up to her flat.

She didn’t come and at this stage surely wouldn’t. It was impossible to say what she had planned for him or why she had wanted him to see what he had seen here.

She had rung him a few days earlier. Her voice had been clear and matter-of-fact, as it always was when she was nervous. She had asked him to come at the exact time when she was out of the house.

One day he left, without planning and for no reason. She didn’t ask why. She just let it happen.

The phone rang again. It stopped after the first ring. There was the smell of fresh paint and bread. In the bathroom the water was still dripping. He thought he could hear a key turning in the lock.

Then a Door Opens and Swings Shut

The woman stopped me on my way to her neighbours. They were friends of mine who had invited me to visit. She waved me over to her house next door to theirs. From a distance, she had probably mistaken me for someone she knew. That, at least, is what I thought. Yet, even in her living room, she looked at me as if I were a long- overdue guest. Whenever I took a step back, she came closer again. And even though she seemed somewhat confused, I could sense how keenly she watched my every movement.

A huge array of dolls sat, lay and stood on shelves that lined the walls and jutted out into the room, as well as in niches set at regular intervals. On the sofa and all over the floor too, the dolls stood and lay in a jumble, old and new, clothed and naked, but all of them intact. Young, middle-aged and old. A few of them seemed to take pride of place. They sat on their own seats or in their own spaces. Set apart, they stood out from the crowd.

My children, the woman said. Reaching for them one after the other, she hugged them briefly, then returned them where they belonged. They all made something of themselves, she said. Each one is successful. Salon Annie, Salon Elly, Salon Gerda. And they’re all here with me. She sat down on the sofa and combed their hair with a clothes brush.

I stood watching her for a long time until she asked me to sit down too. Grooming her children distracted her, but every now and again she looked at me, steadily and attentively, sympathetically even, and with a level of scrutiny I hadn’t experienced for ages. She couldn’t really have been interested in me. After all she seemed to think I was someone she knew well, someone who was close to her, someone she was seeing again after a long absence.

The affection in her gaze was hard to bear because I had already decided to leave.

We sat facing each other silently for a while. Then she said, I’ll get Karl. Isn’t that why you’re here?

I had no idea what she was talking about, but she obviously didn’t expect an answer. She stood up and walked out of the room, leaving me alone, surrounded by all her dolls. I heard furniture being pushed aside, chests being opened, and now and again the creaking of a cupboard door or window. She left me alone for an uncomfortably long time, alone with her dolls. I considered the best way to escape without offending her unduly. After all, I was expected elsewhere.

Just then I heard her through the door. Karl would never forgive me if he missed seeing you. I don’t want that responsibility, you understand. He’s been waiting for you such a long time, ever since he was a child. All these years he has been asking and asking for you.

I got up and leaned against the door to hear better.

Why did you leave him, she said, he’s always asking me that. I certainly can’t explain it. He waited all this time, and now, finally, here you are. He’s just getting ready for you, she said. You know, in the end he didn’t believe me any more. He didn’t believe in you either. Believe in you being there for him, I mean.

For a moment there was silence in the room and I already had my hand on the doorknob when the woman returned. She was holding a doll in her arms like a child. She came over to me and took me by the hand. She looked at me in embarrassment, but not without a certain pride. Then she led me back to the sofa, sat down and asked me to sit too. I took the chair facing the sofa. I had no idea how I would ever escape.

This is Karl, she said, and gently stroked the doll’s hair. Without thinking, I brushed the hair off my forehead in a matching gesture. Look at his face, she said.

The doll had my name. And now, as the woman drew my attention to the doll’s face, I noticed how much it resembled me.

He’ll come back one day, I always told him, she said straightening the doll’s rumpled waistcoat. He will somehow have to come to terms with you. Why you left him and why you are here now, she continued. It’s a bit much for him. That’s why he’s not saying anything. But you’ll get used to each other. It’s not always easy with him because he keeps asking questions. She suddenly stopped and stared into space, staring right through me as if I were no longer there.

My name is Karl, I said, but the woman didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to handle the situation or how to deal with my new friend – a friend I was obviously starting to accept.

He’s not a bad kid, she said. Peculiar, yes, but you already knew that and, let’s face it, you’re all he’s got. And he’s been waiting ever since you abandoned him. That’s when he came to me. He can’t talk to you about it, at least not yet. But things will work out now you’ve finally come back. And now I’ll leave the two of you alone, she said, and stood up and left the room.

She had sat the doll on the sofa, right where she had been sitting. I noticed it looked exactly like me and wore the same clothes. It sat facing me on the sofa and stared me in the eye with interest. I was tempted to reach out and touch it, but at the same time I recoiled from it.

The resemblance was already striking, but it seemed to increase the more I looked.

Karl, I thought. The little fellow had my name. I looked him in the eye and at that moment remembered how, when I was a child, my mother would call me by my brother’s name whenever she was upset or wanted to punish me. Over the years I had got used to it. Now that she was in a nursing home, she did it often, and it was hard to tell if this was a slip of the tongue or if she really took me for my brother.