A Shroud for Jesso (18 page)

“You can stop chewing that lip of yours, Kator. You’ll eat yourself up.”

“It annoys you, Jesso? I hope it stays with you each time you face a meal.”

“You know, when I can’t think of a dirty word from now on, I’ll say Kator.”

“It is remarkable. I have never felt like this before, Jesso. The thought of you does not make me hate
you.
It is more like hate of myself, and that is the worst state of all.”

But it never broke, just got tighter. They probed each other for the clearest pain and each winced when his own strikes struck where he wanted it.

“Your toothbrush, you say. Might that be my sister?”

“They never made a thing that was related to you, Kator.”

“You think she is yours, then?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“You are right, Jesso. It is the other way around.”

“To her you’re just a whoremaster.”

“And she doesn’t mind it, Jesso.”

“That’s good. It’s good she doesn’t really know you, Kator.”

Both of them stopped at the same time. They left the plane and found Kator’s limousine waiting. Kator stopped talking about his sister and Jesso stopped talking about his woman. But he had to think about her. He thought about her as the only sane spot in the strong twist of his hate, the only spot where hate had no meaning, and so he really thought of Renette for the first time. He found it was hard to think of her. He remembered the tone of her voice, the feel of her skin, the way she stood, but all those things were parts only and the whole woman was hard to think about. As if he knew her so well that there was no point in thinking of it. If he were questioning her, any part of her, it would be different. But there was nothing to question, nothing to think, because she was all his and no doubts.

They crossed the square with the Herrenhauser Allee opposite and both of them had the same thought. It was a hope. It was as if the end had to come now, and the tight pull between them soon had to crack.

But when it happened it didn’t crack and there was no drama. Neither wanted to think about it, so it happened as if nothing happened at all. The car slid up and stopped by the door. Hofer was there. They saw Hofer stand there in his striped pants and frock coat, and they didn’t fit, because no clothes are made to fit an old man.

Hofer opened the car door and Kator got out. He said, “How are you, Hofer? It is good to be back.”

Then Jesso got out and said, “Good to see you, Hofer.”

Hofer followed them into the hall, where he took Kator’s coat. Jesso wasn’t wearing any.

“Your mail is in the study,” said Hofer, and Kator went there.

The dim hall was big and clean. Jesso thought of going upstairs, to the end of the corridor maybe, but then he stayed downstairs and went to the kitchen. They gave him a cup of coffee and he had it there leaning against the long pantry shelf. The maid was putting a tea service away.

“How’s Frau von Lohe?” Jesso asked.

“Quite well, sir. She is resting.”

Quite well, sir. Jesso gave up and lit a cigarette. Then he asked for another cup of coffee. He had it finished before he knew how, and he stamped his cigarette out on the saucer. He kept crushing the butt as if he were trying to burn through the porcelain.

What was he waiting for? He pushed himself away from the pantry shelf and made for the door. When he found himself still holding the cup, he almost threw it against the wall. He went back to the pantry, put down the cup, and got out.

She was resting. She was lying on the bed, wearing a house thing that went down to her feet, and when Jesso came in she didn’t turn at first because she was sleeping.

“Renette,” he said, and he stood looking down at her. Then he said her name again, low this time, but his voice was much more urgent because suddenly waiting was almost like pain.

She had a nice way of waking up. She opened her eyes slowly, saw him, and smiled, and then she lay there a while longer.

“Renette, do you hear me? It’s done. We’ve got to move fast.”

“You’re back,” she said. “You didn’t take long.”

“Renette, did you….”

He stopped then because she sat up and yawned. But she had been listening. She sat up and took Jesso’s hands.

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “It’s over now and you have what you wanted.”

“Almost. Listen, Renette. I’ve got to go to the States. They paid off through some banks in the States. So before something goes sour, we got to jump.”

She got up, fully awake now.

“You have to leave, Jesso?”

“I said the money is in the States.”

“You have no money at all? I can—”

“Listen, Renette. Most of it is over there, so here’s what we do.” He sat down on the bed and pulled her down next to him. “I’m going to ask your brother for a passport. The one I got now couldn’t get across the street without his help, and I want him to fix me a good one.”

“He will. He can—”

“He will like hell. Not unless you help me, Renette. You’ve got to pressure him some way so he gets me a passport quick, because the longer I wait from here on in, the more time he has to figure himself an angle.”

“Stay here,” she said. “We’ll go somewhere and you send for the money. You know, Jesso, we can—“

“Damn it, listen to me. We got to get to the States for this thing. There are angles you don’t know a thing about. Tax, immigration, and a dozen others. Your brother can play any one of them if he’s got the time.”

She got up and pushed her hands into the big pockets of her gown. It almost looked to Jesso as if she were suddenly twice as far away.

“Of course I’ll help you. Johannes will give you that passport.” She turned, leaned against the satin couch by the window. “How long will you be gone?”

“Perhaps—” Then he got up too. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

She just looked back at him. Jesso came closer.

“You’re going along, don’t you hear?”

“You don’t really have to go there, do you?”

He got very patient then. “Look, Renette. You’re arguing about something you don’t know a thing about. Pack something, get me that passport. I’ll get the tickets, and in a few days we’ll come back to—to whatever you had in mind. But don’t argue with me about this thing. It’s too big. You hear me?”

“Of course, I see what you mean.” She took her hands out of the pockets and started to hold her arms. There was a rare indecision in her posture. “Perhaps I mean this, Jesso. Over here, Jesso, I know you, I want you, we are what I know now. You and I. But over there you must be somebody else. I’ve never known you over there and your life is perhaps quite different. Perhaps not, Jesso, but I don’t know. I want you now, here, and not later and somewhere else. You must not start to think of me as something you own, keep around wherever you happen to be. It would not be the same. What we have between us is just the opposite of that. It is the very thing you have given me, Jesso, and it is freedom.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “I want you here. So I’ll wait for you here, Jesso.”

“Renette—”

“You said a few days only.”

She wasn’t going to budge and he knew it. So just a few days. She’d wait and he had to wait. But it didn’t feel right to him.

“You can’t stay here. Dear Johannes, you know, isn’t going to—”

She just laughed and started to turn. “I’m safe here, Jesso.” She walked to the dressing room.

He followed her and watched while she changed to a dress. He lit a cigarette and watched, leaning against the doorframe.

“Just one thing, Renette.” She looked up. “Stay close to the house, stay away from Helmut, and watch Kator like a hawk. When I get back here I don’t want any damage.”

“Yes, Jesso.”

“Now come along.”

He took her downstairs and Kator was in the library. One of the files was open and Kator was leafing through a folder. He stopped when he saw them and shut the drawer. It clanked like a metal door.

“You are overstaying your welcome, Jesso.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Good-by, then.” Kator carried his folder to the desk.

“I got something for you,” Jesso said, and he tossed Snell’s doctored passport on top of Kator’s folder. “And from you I want a going-away present.”

“Johannes, I want you to give Jesso a passport. A good one.”

Kator was leaning back with his hands across his front and there was no way of telling what he thought. For that matter, Jesso couldn’t even figure why Kator hadn’t made his move yet. Or perhaps he had, only the trap hadn’t sprung yet. Or maybe Kator was really through. The deal was closed and paid for and that was it. Kator might be that sort.

“When do you want it?” Kator asked.

If this was bluff, Jesso would play it the same way. “Tomorrow. At eight.”

“Very well,” Kator said. “I still have your pictures.”

Jesso felt flat. Kator had been easy before, but not that easy.

“Provided one thing,” Kator said.

Here it came.

“My sister remains behind.”

If that was his angle, he was welcome to it. Jesso looked at Renette and she looked back. She played it well and made the right kind of face. It had been easy.

“Have the passport ready,” Jesso said. “She’ll stay.” Then he took Renette’s arm and they left the room.

When they got out to the hall they didn’t know where to go. They didn’t know why they felt that way, because everything had gone all right and in only a few days Jesso would be back. They walked into the garden and for a while they leaned over the stone ballustrade of the terrace and looked at the winding walks.

“He didn’t even make a stir,” Jesso said.

“I told you he wouldn’t,” Renette said.

“But he meant to. What if we were going together? That’s how he meant it.”

“I know,” she said. She took some gravel and tossed little stones at a flower bed. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Jesso said nothing and Renette tossed some more stones.

“Renette. It does matter.”

“What he did?”

“No, you. That you won’t come.”

“That doesn’t matter either. Because you agreed.”

“You make it sound easy,” he said, and hearing his own voice, he wondered at the change in it.

“Jesso,” she said. “You sound like good-by.”

“Like hell.”

But when they stood there longer, not speaking, the damp air, maybe, or the lead in the low sky got to him, and Renette too didn’t feel the ease any more and the sure sense of herself, and when he said, “Come,” she followed him, very eager, and they went upstairs without saying anything and closed the door behind them.

Then they made love as if it were the only time, with no before and no after.

He watched the runway fall away and then the city where it lay flat below with a green park spreading at one end and factory chimneys at the other. It disappeared after a while as they entered the overcast. Jesso pulled out his passport again. The green cover was properly worn and inside there were his name and his picture and his signature, and there was nothing wrong with any of it as far as he could tell. He stuck it back in his pocket with the envelope and the airplane tickets. One of them said Hannover to Frankfurt-am-Main and the other one hadn’t been used yet. It said Frankfurt-am-Main to New York. There was a return ticket too. A week at the most and he’d be back. Everything was running so smoothly that he would be back even sooner.

Jesso sat in his seat and didn’t feel right, even though the feeling made no sense. Renette? How could he feel uneasy about something he wanted so much and had altogether? Helmut? Why waste time thinking about a thing like him? Perhaps Kator. He thought of Kator when the plane went down at Frankfurt, when he got off and went along the airport corridor to the other ramp. His connecting flight was there. Jesso stood in the line that went through customs, and if there was any reason to think of Kator, this was it. Maybe the passport wasn’t as good as it looked. Almost Jesso’s turn in line. Maybe they’d take one look, pull him out, and that was Kator’s play. Jesso could see the two guys in green, customs officers. Two German policemen with those crazy shakos on their heads, like flowerpots. And two M.P.'s. They wore khaki and white for the occasion.

The line moved and Jesso stepped closer. He had a very calm thought and it was that he’d kill somebody if they tried to pull him out.
“Pass, bitte,”
and Jesso handed it over. Then he got it back and walked through the gate. Then the plane, the stewardess who was a living doll from Cleveland, Ohio, and the seat. The seat. The plane took off and that was that.

He didn’t take a deep breath of relief, because he hadn’t been holding his breath. It was a weird state to know that nothing was right and to find nothing wrong that he could do anything about; and weirder still to know that even inside of him nothing was happening. They shipped eels that way, curled inside a block of ice in suspended animation. The whole trip went by without any real passage of time. He didn’t come out of it until the pilot invited everyone over the loud-speaker to look down below, the United States coast was coming up. Jesso thought it was the weirdest yet to be going in one direction in order to go in the other.

Jesso had only one suitcase and got through customs fast. He took a taxi from Idlewild and they made the Queens Midtown Tunnel in less than an hour. It was five in the morning. He knew a nice family hotel on Forty-fifth Street and he took a room at $7.50 with bath. Then he went to sleep until nine. He woke up the way he rarely did, with a quick, wide-awake jump, but there were just the Chinese mandarins on the wallpaper and the thing with the house rules on the door. He showered and shaved and wanted breakfast. There was a hamburger place across the street and he had an English muffin with jam and drank coffee.

That was at nine-forty-five. He smoked a cigarette in the taxi and from nine-thirty till three in the afternoon he kept the same cab going from one bank to the next. He got some cash and a lot of traveler’s checks. They cost a fortune, but that was the least of his worries. He was stepping out of a bank stuffing an envelope into his brief case when he came awake as he hadn’t been since the trip had started. Manufacturers Trust Company, it said next to him on the brass plate. That time in Delf’s office with nothing on his mind but racking up a list of New York banks, that’s when he had picked Manufacturers Trust. He would; he knew it well enough. He shouldn’t have, because Gluck’s office was in the building right across the street.