Amerika (33 page)

And thus they sat on their little bench, waiting quietly. The woman ran incessantly back and forth between two tables, a tub, and the oven. From her frequent exclamations one could gather that her daughter was not well, so she had to take care of all the work alone, in other words, the serving and feeding of thirty tenants. Besides, the oven was defective, the food took forever: there was a thick soup simmering in two giant pots, and however often the woman checked it, using ladles and letting it drip down into the pots, it simply would not turn out right, and since this was probably due to the poor fire, she sat down in front of the oven door, almost on the floor, and stirred the glowing coals with a rake. The smoke filling the kitchen made her cough, sometimes so severely that she reached for a chair and for a while could do nothing but cough. She stated repeatedly that she was not going to provide them with breakfast that late in the day, having neither the time nor the inclination to do so. Since Karl and Robinson had been ordered to fetch the breakfast but could not possibly force her to provide it, they did not respond to such remarks and simply remained there, sitting quietly on their chairs.

The tenants' unwashed breakfast dishes still lay strewn about on chairs and footstools, on top of and underneath the tables, and even, crammed into a corner, on the floor. There were small coffeepots still containing some coffee or milk and also bits of leftover butter on a number of the little plates; a large tin box had fallen down, and a few biscuits had spilled out. In fact, if one used all of this, one could put together a breakfast that even Brunelda could not fault, so long as she did not discover its origins. Just as Karl was considering this possibility and glancing at the clock, which made him realize that they had already spent half an hour waiting and that Brunelda had perhaps grown furious and was inciting Delamarche against the servants, the woman, who was still coughing, shouted—while staring at Karl: “You can sit there, but you're not getting any breakfast. But in two hours you'll be getting your supper.”

“Come, Robinson,” said Karl, “we'll put the breakfast together.” “What,” cried the woman, lowering her head. “Please be reasonable,” said Karl, “why don't you want to give us our breakfast. We've been waiting for half an hour, which is certainly long enough. After all, you get reimbursed for all of this, and we certainly pay you better than everybody else. It's surely a nuisance for you that we're having breakfast at this late hour, but then we are your tenants and are accustomed to having a late breakfast, and you should also accommodate us a little too. Of course that will be especially difficult today owing to your daughter's illness, but then again we're prepared to put together a breakfast using those leftovers if there's no other way and you aren't prepared to give us any fresh food.”

But the woman had no desire to engage in a friendly conversation with anybody; to her mind, even the remnants of the communal breakfast were evidently too good for such tenants; still, she was fed up with the persistence of the two servants and so she seized a tray and thrust it up against Robinson's body; it took him a while to realize that he was meant to hold out the tray and accept the food that the woman would choose herself. In a great hurry she loaded the tray with a huge number of items, but the resulting heap looked more like a pile of dirty dishes than a breakfast that could actually be served. As the woman pushed them out and they hurried toward the door, bent over, as if fearful of being scolded or beaten, Karl took the tray out of Robinson's hands, for it did not seem sufficiently safe in Robinson's keeping.

In the corridor, once they were far enough from the landlady's door, Karl sat down on the floor with the tray, primarily to clean it, to gather items that belonged together by pouring the milk into a single container and scraping the various leftover pieces of butter onto a plate, and then to remove all traces of prior use, in other words, to clean the knives and spoons, and to cut off the half-eaten portions of the rolls, thereby improving the overall appearance. Robinson insisted that this was unnecessary work, claiming that their breakfast had often looked far worse, but Karl would not let Robinson deter him and was happy that the dirty-fingered Robinson would not be helping with this chore. In order to keep him quiet, Karl had immediately doled him out a few cakes, pouring the thick residue of hot chocolate into a little pot.

When they arrived at their apartment and Robinson reached without hesitation for the door handle, Karl restrained him, for it was not clear whether they were permitted to enter. “Why, of course,” said Robinson, “he's still doing her hair.” And Brunelda was indeed sitting in the armchair, legs spread wide apart, in the room, which had not yet been aired and in which the shutters were still closed; Delamarche, who stood behind her with his face inclined, was combing her hair, which was short and probably all tangled. Brunelda again wore a very loose-fitting dress, only this time it was light pink and perhaps a little shorter than the one she wore the day before, for one could see her coarsely woven white stockings almost as far as the knee. Having become impatient over the time it took to comb her hair, Brunelda flicked her thick red tongue between her lips; from time to time she cried, “But Delamarche!” and tore herself away from Delamarche, who waited quietly, comb raised in the air, for her to lower her head again.

“It's taken so long,” Brunelda said to no one in particular, and then to Karl: “If you want to satisfy us, you'll have to be a little more nimble. You shouldn't regard that lazy glutton Robinson as a model. You've probably already had your breakfast somewhere, but listen: Next time I won't stand for this.”

This was very unjust, to be sure, and Robinson too shook his head and moved his lips, though without making a sound; however, Karl realized that the only way to win over these masters was by showing them work of unquestionable quality. So he drew a low Japanese table from a nook, covered it with a cloth, and set up the items they had brought. Anybody who had seen this breakfast come about could not help but be satisfied with how everything had turned out, but as Karl had to admit, there were still a few shortcomings.

Fortunately, Brunelda was hungry. Though nodding agreeably at Karl as he prepared everything, she frequently hindered him by picking out little mouthfuls prematurely with her soft fat hand, possibly squashing everything. “He did a good job,” she said, smacking her lips, and drew Delamarche, who had left the comb in her hair for possible later use, onto a chair beside her. At the sight of the food even Delamarche became friendly; both were very hungry, and their hands rushed to and fro over the little table. Karl realized that if one wished to satisfy these people, one always had to bring back all one could and, remembering that he had left various usable food items lying about on the floor, said: “This first time I didn't know how everything should be set up, but I'll do a better job next time.” Yet even as he spoke he remembered whom he was addressing; he had become much too caught up in the details of this affair. Brunelda nodded contentedly at Delamarche and rewarded Karl by passing him a handful of biscuits.

FRAGMENTS

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( 1 )

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BRUNELDA'S DEPARTURE

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O
ne morning Karl pushed the invalid cart in which Brunelda was seated through the front gate. It was not as early as he had hoped. They had agreed to undertake the exodus while it was still night so as not to cause a stir in the streets, which would have been unavoidable by day, no matter how modestly Brunelda tried to cover herself in a great gray cloth. Yet carrying her downstairs had taken too long despite the most helpful assistance from the student, who as became evident on this occasion was much weaker than Karl. Brunelda behaved decently, hardly sighed, and sought to ease the work of her carriers any way she could. Nevertheless, they were obliged to set her down on every fifth step so that she and they could take the most necessary breaks. It was a cool morning; in the corridor gusts of cold air blew about as in a cellar, but Karl and the student were covered in perspiration, and during the breaks each had to dry his face with a corner of Brunelda's shawl, which she graciously handed them. Two hours elapsed before they reached the ground floor, where the little cart had stood since the previous evening. At first it would take a little work to lift Brunelda into the cart, but then the whole thing could be considered a success, since the cart could be pushed along quite easily, thanks to the large wheels, and the only remaining concern was that the little cart might fall apart under Brunelda's weight. Still, one had to take that risk, for it would not really be possible to take along a replacement cart such as the one the student had half-jokingly offered to provide for them and even to push himself. Then they took leave of the student and very warmly at that; all of the previous disagreements between Brunelda and the student appeared to have been forgotten; the student even apologized for the insult he had given when Brunelda was ill; however, Brunelda declared that all was long forgotten and that he had more than made amends. Finally, she asked the student to be so kind as to accept as a memento of herself, a dollar, which she laboriously extricated from one of her many skirts. That gift was significant, especially considering Brunelda's notorious stinginess, and the student was indeed very pleased, so much so that he threw the coin high in the air. But then he had to go looking for it on the ground, and Karl was obliged to assist him; Karl found it at last under Brunelda's cart. Of course, Karl and the student found it easier to say goodbye; they simply shook hands, expressing the conviction that each would see the other again and that at least one of them—the student claimed this of Karl, and Karl in turn of the student—would by then have accomplished something worthy of fame, though that had unfortunately not come about yet. Then in good spirits Karl seized the handle and pushed the cart through the gate. The student watched, waving with a handkerchief, until they vanished from sight. Karl often nodded back; Brunelda would also have liked to turn around, but such movements were too strenuous for her. So as to make it possible for her to say one last goodbye, once they had reached the bottom of the street Karl pushed the cart around in a full circle so that Brunelda too could see the student, who seized the opportunity and began to wave his handkerchief with special zeal.

Karl, however, then said that they should not make any further stops since they had a long journey ahead and had left much later than anticipated. And indeed one could already see carriages here and there, and even a few isolated figures heading to work. By that remark Karl had meant only what he had in fact said, but in her tactful way Brunelda had understood it differently and now covered herself entirely in her gray shawl. Karl did not object to this; true, having the handcart covered with a gray shawl was quite conspicuous, but incomparably less so than if one were to carry Brunelda in there without any covering. He pushed the cart very carefully; before turning a corner, he always looked into the next street first and only then left the cart, if necessary, and went forward alone; whenever he anticipated a possibly unpleasant encounter, he waited until it could be avoided or even decided to go down an entirely different street. And since he had studied every possible route, there was never any danger of having to make a big detour. Of course, there were still some obstacles to be feared, yet one couldn't really have foreseen the particulars. For instance, all of a sudden, in a street that sloped gently uphill, could be easily surveyed, and, pleasantly enough, was quite empty—Karl turned this to his advantage by hurrying up—a policeman stepped from a dark corner at one of the front gates and asked Karl what he was carrying in his carefully covered cart. Yet despite the severe looks he directed at Karl, the policeman had to laugh when he lifted the cover and saw Brunelda's overheated and frightened face. “What?” he said. “I thought you had ten bags of potatoes and now it's only one woman? Where are you going? Who are you?” Brunelda did not dare to look at the policeman and simply gazed at Karl, clearly doubting that even he could save her anymore. Karl had enough experience with policemen, though; none of this seemed dangerous. “But Miss,” he said, “show the officer the document you've got.” “Oh yes,” said Brunelda, and she searched for it in such a hopeless manner that she now began to seem truly suspect. “The young miss,” said the policeman with obvious irony, “won't be able to find the document.” “Oh, but she will,” said Karl calmly. “She certainly has it and has simply misplaced it.” He now searched for it himself and soon pulled it out from behind Brunelda's back. The policeman merely gave it a cursory glance. “So that's it,” the policeman said, laughing. “She's that sort of young miss. And your job, little fellow, is to make arrangements and transport her? Is that really the best job you can find?” Karl simply shrugged his shoulders; once again the police were meddling. “Well, pleasant trip,” said the policeman when he did not receive an answer. There was probably a certain contempt in the policeman's tone, which caused Karl to leave without saying goodbye; after all, it was better to arouse the contempt of the police than to attract their attention.

Shortly afterward he experienced what was possibly an even more unpleasant encounter. For approaching him was a man, pushing a cart laden with large milk cans, who was extremely eager to learn what lay beneath the gray cloth on Karl's cart. Although it was unlikely that he was heading in the same direction as Karl, he stayed beside him in spite of the unpredictable turns Karl would suddenly take. At first he settled for remarks such as “You must be carrying a heavy load” or “You didn't load the cart properly; something up on top is bound to fall off.” Then he asked bluntly: “What are you carrying under that cloth?” Karl said: “What concern is it of yours?” But since this only made the man all the more curious, Karl finally said: “Apples.” “You have so many apples,” the man said in astonishment, repeating the remark over and over again. “That's an entire harvest,” he said. “Well, yes,” said Karl. But whether he did not believe Karl or whether he wanted to annoy him, he carried this even further, and—all without breaking his stride—began to reach out his hand toward the cloth, as if in jest, and finally he even had the audacity to tug at the cloth. The things Brunelda had to endure! Out of consideration for her, Karl did not want to get into a fight with the man and therefore entered through the next open gate, as though that were his destination. “This is where I live,” he said. “Thanks for the company.” The man remained at the gate, looking in astonishment at Karl, who was prepared to walk all the way across the first courtyard. The man could no longer be in any doubt as to Karl's intentions, but in order to satisfy his malice one last time, he left his cart, pursued Karl on tiptoes, and gave the cloth such a sharp tug that he almost exposed Brunelda's face. “Just to give your apples a little air,” he said, and ran off. Karl swallowed even that insult, for it would free him from that man at last. Then he guided the cart into a corner of the yard where several boxes afforded some privacy and where he could say a few soothing words to Brunelda. But he had to spend a great deal of time cajoling her, since she wept a great deal and implored him in all seriousness that they should stay behind the boxes all day and not set off again until nightfall. Perhaps he alone could not have convinced her how misguided that would have been, but when someone at the far end of the pile threw an empty box to the ground, making a resounding noise in the empty courtyard, she was so startled that, without even daring to say another word, she pulled the cloth up over herself and was probably more than happy when Karl resolved to set off right away.

Though the streets were becoming increasingly animated, the cart did not attract as much attention as Karl had feared. It might even have been wiser to pick another time for this move. Should another such journey become necessary, Karl would risk setting off at noon. Without encountering any worse annoyance, he turned into the dark narrow street where Enterprise No. 25 was located. The manager stood by the door, holding his watch, and squinting. “Are you always so unpunctual?” he asked. “There were obstacles of various kinds,” said Karl. “Naturally, there always are,” said the manager. “But here in this building we make no allowance for them. Mark my words!” Karl barely heeded such speeches; everyone took advantage of his power and yelled at his underlings. But once you became used to that, it sounded no different than the regular ticking of a clock. But what
did
startle him as he pushed his cart along the corridor was the dirt lying everywhere, though he had admittedly expected something of the sort. However, on closer scrutiny, the dirt was inexplicable. The stone floor in the corridor had been swept almost clean, the paint on the walls was relatively new, not much dust had collected on the artificial palms, but everything was greasy and repulsive; it was as if everything had been subjected to such abuse that no amount of cleaning could remedy it. Whenever Karl arrived somewhere, he liked to think about the improvements that could be made and how pleasant it would be to get started right away, however endless the work required. But in this case he did not know what could be done. Slowly he removed the cloth from Brunelda. “Welcome, miss,” the manager said in an affected manner; there could be no doubt that Brunelda made a favorable impression on him. Brunelda had no sooner noticed this than she turned it to her advantage, as Karl noticed with satisfaction. All the fear of those last hours disappeared. She

( 2 )

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A
t a street corner Karl saw a poster with the following announcement: “Today on the racetrack in Clayton the theater in Oklahama is taking on staff, from six o'clock in the morning until midnight! The great Theater of Oklahama is calling you! It is calling only today, only this once! Anyone who misses this opportunity shall miss it forever! Anyone who is thinking of his future belongs in our midst! All are welcome! Anyone who wants to become an artist should contact us! We are a theater that can make use of everyone, each in his place! And we congratulate here and now those who have decided in our favor. At twelve o'clock everything shall close and won't open again! Accursed be those who don't believe us! And now, off to Clayton!”

Many people stood in front of the poster, yet it appeared to meet with scant approval. There were so many posters, no one believed in posters anymore. And this poster was even more implausible than such posters tend to be. Above all, it had one great flaw; there was nothing about wages. If the pay had been worthwhile, the poster would have mentioned it; it wouldn't have omitted what was most enticing. No one wants to be an artist, but everyone wants to be paid for his work.

The poster offered Karl one great enticement. “Everyone is welcome,” it said. Everyone—in other words, Karl too. Everything he had ever done was forgotten, no one would reproach him anymore. And he could sign up for work that was not shameful and could be advertised openly! And they promised just as openly that he too would be taken on. He certainly could ask for no better; he just wanted to start off at last in some respectable career, and perhaps this was it. For even if all of that boasting on the poster was a lie, and even if the great Theater of Oklahama was merely a little strolling circus, it wanted to hire people, and that was good enough. Karl did not read the poster a second time, but glanced through it to find the sentence: “Everyone is welcome.”

At first he thought of going to Clayton on foot, but that would have taken three hours of vigorous marching, and he would have arrived there only to discover that all available positions were filled. According to the poster, there was no limit on the numbers to be taken on, but that was how such job offers were always phrased. Karl realized that he would either have to give up on the prospect of this job or else take the train. He counted out his money; were it not for this trip, it would have lasted eight days; he pushed the small coins to and fro in the palm of his hand. A gentleman who had been watching him patted him on the shoulder and said: “Good luck for your trip to Clayton.” Karl nodded silently and went on counting. But before long he made up his mind, separated out the money for the trip, and ran to the subway.

After getting out in Clayton, he heard the clamor of a great many trumpets. It was a confused clamor, the trumpets were not in tune; they were being played quite heedlessly. Still, this did not bother Karl since it merely confirmed in his mind that the Theater of Oklahama was a large enterprise. But on stepping out of the station, where he could survey the entire complex spread out before him, he saw that it was far bigger than he could possibly have imagined, and he could not understand how an enterprise of this kind was able to go to such expense merely for the purpose of adding staff. In front of the entrance to the racetrack was a long, low platform on which hundreds of women, dressed as angels in white robes with large wings on their backs, blew long trumpets that shone like gold. But they were not directly on the platform; each stood on her own pedestal, which however was not visible, for it was completely covered by the angels' long billowing robes. Since the pedestals were very high, a good two meters tall, the figures of these women looked gigantic, though this impression of great size was somewhat marred by their small heads; even their loose hair was too short and looked almost ridiculous, as it hung down between their large wings and down along their sides. To avoid seeming monotonous, pedestals of greatly differing sizes had been used; some women were not much larger than life size, while others alongside them soared so high that one imagined that the lightest gust of wind could imperil them. And now all of these women blew their trumpets.