A Treatise on Shelling Beans (42 page)

In the end I had him climb up on the countertop, stand next to me, and hand me tools or take them from me, because it was hard for me to reach his outstretched hand when he was standing on the floor, and I couldn’t always bend down. He pulled up a chair, climbed onto it, stood next to me, but not even that prevented him from talking.

“There were times that from the first glance you could tell the hat wasn’t right for the face, but the client said he thought this one looked best on him. You’d wonder who he was seeing that he’d chosen that particular one. Unfortunately you couldn’t say, That one doesn’t suit you, because it might sound like you were questioning not the hat but his face. What am I saying, face, it was as if you were questioning the image of himself that he carried. And after all, that’s something everyone has a perfect right to, everyone bears that image within themselves …”

“I dropped a screw. Could you climb down and find it?” Once again I was trying to interrupt him.

He popped down almost like a spring, he was agile for his age. And wouldn’t you believe it, he found the screw at once. You or I would have hunted all over for it. All he did was step down from the chair, lean over and pick it up. He climbed back just as quickly.

“Maybe it was like you were questioning his own unsatisfied need for himself, his thirst for himself, his longing for himself, because each of us allows ourselves something like that, it helps us to live. And you have to respect that in a client. Profit isn’t the most important thing when you’ve been dealing with hats as long as I have. Besides, you outgrow the desire for profit, especially when you’re nearer rather than further from the boundless place where profit counts for nothing at all. When you start to measure out your life with all the hats you’ve sold. When you’re visited more and more often by doubt about whether
everyone was satisfied with the hats they bought. If I’d been certain of that I would have said, All praise to the hat. Unfortunately, I’m not. Despite the fact that even before the previous war, when I was more or less your age, I worked as a clerk in a hat shop. I began life with hats, so to speak, and I’m ending it with them. That includes two world wars. You might think that when it comes to hats I know everything. It turns out though that I don’t. And please believe me, young man, I learned this wise lesson only when my shop was taken over by the government. Though it is what it is, as you can see. In this way I was punished for daring to believe that I knew anything. Whereas in reality, what on earth do I know, as it turns out. The more so if you take as the highest measure of knowledge that you don’t even know that you don’t know, however much you know.”

This time I told him an untruth, saying I’d dropped another screw. And imagine this, he got down, found it, climbed back up and handed it to me. After that I stopped trying.

“Pass me the bulb and the lampshade, then you can step down.”

I replaced the shade and screwed in the light bulb.

“There’s nothing more can be done here,” I said. “Now it all depends on what the wiring’s like. Turn the switch.”

He turned it, the light came on. No, he didn’t explode with joy. He simply said:

“Oh, the light’s working.” He turned the switch again, the light went off. He turned it on again, off again, on, off. All at once he was gripped by a kind of anxiety:

“When you leave, will it still come on?”

“Sure it will,” I reassured him. “But all this is a stop-gap measure. You need to replace the fittings, the wiring, everything. And don’t delay.”

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, holding me back, because I was getting ready to leave.

“Nothing.”

“But I have to give you something for your troubles. Wait a minute,” he said, pausing to think. He suddenly went up to the display and took down the brown felt hat. “I can’t sell you a hat from the display. But at least try it on. You’ll see yourself that it’s too big for you. I wouldn’t like you to go away unconvinced.”

I put it on and looked in the mirror, while he put one of the dull-colored hats in the display.

“See? It’s too big, like I told you. And brown felt makes it look even bigger next to your young face.”

The hat fell down over my ears. Plus, when I saw my reflection in the mirror I started wondering if that was me with the hat on my head. Have you ever had those kinds of doubts about whether you are you? I’ve had them all my life. I always felt as if I was divided within myself into one person who knew it was him and another person who felt no closeness with himself. Into one person, shall we say, who knows he’s going to die, and one person who rejects the idea that it’s him and thinks someone else is going to die in his stead. I’ve never been able to be together long enough even just to sympathize with myself. Let me tell you, a person shouldn’t think too much about himself, or even more go probing himself. He is the way he is, and that ought to be enough. And whether he’s himself or not, let that be resolved in due course.

Standing in front of the mirror, with the outsized hat on my head, staring at my own reflection, I became painfully aware of that division inside myself.

“Are you shaving already?” he suddenly asked. I was taken unawares, and over there, in the mirror, I went red as a beetroot.

“Of course,” I said, though I don’t think it came out very confidently.

“How often a week?” He wouldn’t let up, as though he had some purpose in mind.

“It depends.”

“Don’t take offense, young man. I’d guess at the most once a week, on Sundays. I’m asking because brown felt isn’t a good match for a face that’s only
shaved once a week. Actually, it’s the worst match. Aside from the fact that this one is too big.”

He caught me off balance with that remark, and I pulled the hat further down over my eyes, hoping it might not look quite so big.

“Not like that. Why hide your face?” He came up and tipped the hat back. “While your face is young it should be exposed, let the youth in it shine. It won’t be able to shine when it’s furrowed with wrinkles. Before the war it was mostly government workers that bought brown felt hats. In that respect nothing’s changed. Whenever they come to do inventory, there’s always one or another of them will ask if by any chance I have a brown felt hat. I don’t, how could I? Never mind that, they pick out another hat or a cap, usually forgetting to pay. And that’s the difference. Obviously I’m not going to say anything. I have to pay for it out of my own pocket. Though how can I do that when a month’s salary doesn’t cover a month’s living expenses. Those guys ignore the fact that it’s all state-owned, whereas me, I have nothing on my conscience. I mean, what could I have on my conscience in a place like this, you can see for yourself. This is all there is. Except that, unfortunately, it depends on them whether you have something on your conscience. Your conscience is state-owned too. There’s no longer any need for God to remind us about our conscience. Hang on, maybe a bit further back, so your hair shows a little in the front.”

He moved the hat so the brim pointed way up. And though I didn’t think I could wear it that way, he said:

“There, like that. That’s better. A lot better. Take a closer look in the mirror.” He pulled it down again slightly. “No, it’s too big after all. Too big. There’s no way of arranging it so you can’t tell.” Then, stepping back from me, as if he was disappointed: “Anyway, why are you in such a hurry to get a hat? You’ll have plenty of time to wear hats. You’re young, maybe you’ll live to see all sorts of different sizes, styles, colors. Someone has to have hope that someone else will live to see it. And who should have hope if not you young people. I’m too old
now for hope, too old for this new world. That’s what the government people told me, that this is a new world and that I don’t understand it because I’m too old. I’d gone there to ask why the state was taking over my shop, they should just buy it from me. I wouldn’t be crazy about selling it, but I’d do it. It was then that one of them told me I don’t understand a thing. This is a revolution, citizen. I asked him, What does that mean? Revolution is revolution, the point is you have to believe in it. Don’t ask any more questions, citizen. Just sign here. No need to read it. Of course I signed. I even thanked him for being so kind as to tell me I don’t understand anything. Perhaps you’d like a peaked cap?” He went behind the counter and started taking peaked caps down from the shelves, one two, three. “Here, maybe this one. It’s even your size. Or this one. Or perhaps this one. This one’d suit you better. Of all kinds of headwear, peaked caps bring out youth the most. Though maybe you don’t want to look young? If that’s the case, when are you going to be young? Now is your only chance to look young. There isn’t all that much youth in a person’s life. Especially if their life goes on and on. And it can’t be put off till later. It’s another matter that the present times are not too favorable for youth. These days even the young don’t know they’re young.”

“Come on, things are not so bad,” I said, daring to disagree, because as I stood in front of the mirror there was no doubt in my mind that at least on the outside I was young.

“Appearances, appearances, young man. It’s dangerous to trust yourself so readily, especially as you can only see yourself in the mirror. You should think carefully about the brown felt hat, all the more since it’s too big. The moment you came in, there was something in your face that troubled me. I mean, I know faces. My whole life I’ve been finding hats to match faces. And for that you need both experience and distrust. With every face, you have to ignore its vulnerability and first expose separately the eyes, the forehead, eyebrows, nose, mouth, cheeks, the whole thing, in minute detail so to speak. Then piece it back together again in all its fuzziness or excessive clarity, reduce it all the way to indistinctness, so nothing prevents you from seeing its special mark that’s
hidden, hidden deep as can be, but that exists in every face. Yes indeed, the face reaches deep inside a person. And each one needs a different kind of hat. Then it’s much easier to pick the right hat. Though at the same time you have to remember that in the process of choosing we also have to deal with the other side of the equation, since hats can be fussy too, crabby even. At times they can mislead you so badly you forget what you’re trying to match to what, the hat to the face or the face to the hat. Let me tell you, it hurt when a hat rejected a face but the client liked the way he looked in it. I felt sorry for every rejected face, though I ought to have been on the side of the hat. Not just because hats have been my whole life, that everything has revolved around them. Each new day would rise from behind my hats and go down again behind them at the end, so to speak. Hats swirled in my thoughts, my desires, my longings, my ideas. To the point that whenever I tried to imagine humanity to myself, it was always as an infinity of hats. There were times I started to wonder whether I wasn’t a hat myself. Though on whose head? On whose head? So I admit that when the state took over my shop I felt a sense of relief, young man. It was as if someone had released me from some duty. More, that I’d been set free. I won’t deny there was also regret, maybe even despair, but above all it was relief. Take the hat off a moment.”

I removed it, he took it from me and went behind the counter. He bent down and vanished from view, as if he were looking for something stowed away somewhere deep. I could only hear his voice from under the counter:

“There should be a newspaper down here someplace. A client left it one time. I don’t read the newspapers. Ah, here it is.” He reappeared. “Step up closer, please. And watch carefully. Fold the newspaper more or less to the width of this inner lining. Not too thick, or it’ll end up being too small for you.” He slipped the newspaper under the lining of the hat and pressed it flat, working his way around the whole circumference. “Here, now try it on. At least it won’t wobble about on your head. Or fall down over your eyes. If you take it off, just make sure you never set it upside down. The same when you hang it up, make sure
the inside of the hat never shows. And most important of all, when you raise your hat to greet someone, never do it from too far off. The newspaper could fall out before you pass the person you’re greeting. And for goodness’ sake never ever lift the hat too high. You only need to raise it just above your head, or even just lift it up a little. It can be a big gesture, but the hat itself should only just be tipped upward. Let’s give it a try. I’ll give you a different hat and put yours on, I’ll show you.”

He gave me one of the dull-colored ones and had me step back by the display. He put the brown felt hat on and retreated to the counter.

“Oh yes, we should put the light on, since we have light now. It’ll be easier to see. All right, so we’re walking towards one another. Really slowly, like in a slow-motion film. There’s no reason to hurry. You’re approaching me, I’m approaching you. I’m the one who’s supposed to say hello first, and you’ll return the greeting. What I mean is, you’re not you, I’m you, as I’ve got the hat with the newspaper in the lining. Pay careful attention. We’re walking. I don’t greet you yet, we’re still too far apart. Only now, when we’re almost passing each other. And you don’t greet me, I greet you. You have to return my greeting. Don’t snatch the hat off your head like that, the newspaper could fall out. Never mind that I’m wearing the brown felt hat, you’re the one who’s practicing. You raise your hand over your hat, like this. Slowly. Or like this, in a big broad gesture, depending on who you’re saying hello to. It looks as if you’re going to lift your hat almost to the height of your outstretched arm, but in fact as you pass one another you don’t remove your hat at all, or you only raise it up very slightly. Sometimes a gesture alone can serve as a greeting. But don’t forget to look back after you pass, just in case. Because if it turns out the other person has looked back as well, you can make an additional motion with your hand as if you were just replacing the hat on your head after the greeting. Let’s try it one more time. This time you have the hat with the newspaper, and I’ll take yours, and we’ll switch roles. We’ll see how you manage. Come over here, to my place, I’ll go over by the display.”