hair spilled out over his undershirt, his belt buckle was undone. Adam squatted on the toilet. He listened to catch the melody and then to the other soundsthe man emitted as he washed his face. The faucet was turned off. The man called out something, repeated it as if waiting for an answer; then suddenly he began to sing—and left the restroom singing.
When Adam stepped up to the washbasin he found a little bar of soap lying on the rim, still in its wrapper, just for him.
Michael’s bottle of beer was still standing in front of the Wartburg. Adam held it up to check if it was empty, and poured what was left in the gutter.
Pulling his legs up, he lay down on the backseat and stared directly down at Evelyn’s straw hat, which lay on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Although he was tired, he couldn’t fall asleep. He was amazed at how loud it was. Faces were constantly appearing at the windows, peering inside, “curious about an old-timer,” as one of them said. And every time they jumped back, startled to see him in there.
The next morning he was awakened by a loud bang. He sat up. A street sweeper was making its way along, morning traffic was already picking up.
The hotel door was wide open. But instead of the man from last night, a young woman with wispy pale blond hair was at the reception desk. She glanced up briefly and did not return his greeting.
He sat down in one of the clunky chairs in the lobby. When the blond woman barked at him in Czech, he said, “I’m waiting for someone,” and crossed his legs. He raised his head only when the elevator doors opened or people came out of the breakfast room. There was the aroma of coffee. He watched the woman water the plants in the tubs next to the reception desk and snip off dead leaves with her long white fingernails.
Adam was awakened by a bony hand on his shoulder. “I’m waiting for my wife, Evelyn Schumann,” he said.
He heard the waiter pass on Evelyn’s name, but the pale blond behind the counter shook her head. Adam walked over to her and asked about Michael. “Michael, Michael,” he repeated. Finally the blond turned the big book on the counter around toward him andpointed to an entry where “1 + 2” had been crossed out with red diagonal lines.
“They’ve left,” the waiter said. “You’ll have to look elsewhere.”
Adam stared at him. The waiter said nothing and finally shrugged.
“Hm, yes, I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere then,” Adam said and took his departure with a firm handshake.
12
ANOTHER WOMAN
ABOUT TWENTY KILOMETERS before Brno, Adam stopped for gas at the rest area Devět křížů. He then found a parking space not far from the cafeteria. He made for the men’s toilet, his bag slung over his shoulder and containing his shaving gear, camera, and a fresh shirt. The washroom seemed designed for people like him, there was soap and a shelf mounted below the mirror. The water stayed cold, though. He carefully began to shave. He almost cut himself when a hefty man who was shaking water from his hands bumped his elbow. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror. The man, his forearm tattooed with a busty mermaid, grumbled something that Adam took for an apology. He washed his armpits, put on his fresh shirt, tied the old one around his hips.
As he entered the restaurant sultry with kitchen steam, he started to sweat. Cigarette smoke hung above people’s heads, it smelled of beer. Adam reached for a tray. Although it was wet, he laid his utensils on it and waited for the line to edge forward. Standing amid occupied tables, a family rotated helplessly in a circle, overloaded trays in hand. The babble of voices was repeatedly broken by bursts of laughter, as if this were some sort of party. Adam ordered pork and dumplings, took the last two rolls with salami decorated with a blob of mayonnaise, a slice of cream cake, and a bottle of green soda. He pulled back anempty seat he found at a window table and asked, “Možno?”
When Adam stepped up to the washbasin he found a little bar of soap lying on the rim, still in its wrapper, just for him.
Michael’s bottle of beer was still standing in front of the Wartburg. Adam held it up to check if it was empty, and poured what was left in the gutter.
Pulling his legs up, he lay down on the backseat and stared directly down at Evelyn’s straw hat, which lay on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Although he was tired, he couldn’t fall asleep. He was amazed at how loud it was. Faces were constantly appearing at the windows, peering inside, “curious about an old-timer,” as one of them said. And every time they jumped back, startled to see him in there.
The next morning he was awakened by a loud bang. He sat up. A street sweeper was making its way along, morning traffic was already picking up.
The hotel door was wide open. But instead of the man from last night, a young woman with wispy pale blond hair was at the reception desk. She glanced up briefly and did not return his greeting.
He sat down in one of the clunky chairs in the lobby. When the blond woman barked at him in Czech, he said, “I’m waiting for someone,” and crossed his legs. He raised his head only when the elevator doors opened or people came out of the breakfast room. There was the aroma of coffee. He watched the woman water the plants in the tubs next to the reception desk and snip off dead leaves with her long white fingernails.
Adam was awakened by a bony hand on his shoulder. “I’m waiting for my wife, Evelyn Schumann,” he said.
He heard the waiter pass on Evelyn’s name, but the pale blond behind the counter shook her head. Adam walked over to her and asked about Michael. “Michael, Michael,” he repeated. Finally the blond turned the big book on the counter around toward him andpointed to an entry where “1 + 2” had been crossed out with red diagonal lines.
“They’ve left,” the waiter said. “You’ll have to look elsewhere.”
Adam stared at him. The waiter said nothing and finally shrugged.
“Hm, yes, I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere then,” Adam said and took his departure with a firm handshake.
12
ANOTHER WOMAN
ABOUT TWENTY KILOMETERS before Brno, Adam stopped for gas at the rest area Devět křížů. He then found a parking space not far from the cafeteria. He made for the men’s toilet, his bag slung over his shoulder and containing his shaving gear, camera, and a fresh shirt. The washroom seemed designed for people like him, there was soap and a shelf mounted below the mirror. The water stayed cold, though. He carefully began to shave. He almost cut himself when a hefty man who was shaking water from his hands bumped his elbow. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror. The man, his forearm tattooed with a busty mermaid, grumbled something that Adam took for an apology. He washed his armpits, put on his fresh shirt, tied the old one around his hips.
As he entered the restaurant sultry with kitchen steam, he started to sweat. Cigarette smoke hung above people’s heads, it smelled of beer. Adam reached for a tray. Although it was wet, he laid his utensils on it and waited for the line to edge forward. Standing amid occupied tables, a family rotated helplessly in a circle, overloaded trays in hand. The babble of voices was repeatedly broken by bursts of laughter, as if this were some sort of party. Adam ordered pork and dumplings, took the last two rolls with salami decorated with a blob of mayonnaise, a slice of cream cake, and a bottle of green soda. He pulled back anempty seat he found at a window table and asked, “Možno?”
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