You. Zoran Drvenkar

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СКАЧАТЬ a cloth and soapsuds until two gleaming white patches remained. Never again did you make the mistake of surprising your father in the bathroom. You learned to respect fear.

      As soon as your father was out of the bathroom, the preparations began. He checked all the windows, examined the front door, and the balcony door had to be secure as well before your mother was allowed to lower the shutters. You remember how she secretly reassured you, over and over again, that things would soon be back to normal, your father was going through a difficult phase. She was wrong. The drizzle was about to become a storm.

      Your father had plans.

      He took out library books about the conduct of war and taught you how to survive in the wilderness. Once he came home and told you and your brother to take a bullet out of his arm. He removed his shirt. There were his sinewy arms, there were the knotty muscles and no wound. Oskar knew what lay ahead. He burst into tears at the sight of the sinewy arms. Your father pointed at the box.

      The box was a battered metal trunk that had belonged to your grandfather. If anyone didn’t obey or burst into tears, he ended up in the trunk. You remember the smell, shoe polish and linseed oil. Your mother shut Oskar inside. No word of protest ever passed her lips. Oskar’s whimpering emerged from the suitcase like the sound of a trapped insect.

      Here, your father tapped you on the shoulder, here’s the bloody bullet. Get it out, Ragnar, get it out of there.

      You did everything right. You heated the knife over a Bunsen burner. You handed your father a bottle of schnapps and told him to drink it. Your mother held the bandage ready. You didn’t hesitate for a second and cut into your father’s flesh as if it were a slice of smoked pork on a plate. The picture is still very clear in front of your eyes—the way the blade sinks in and splits the skin, the way the blood runs down his arm, first hesitantly, then violently, and your father smiles at you and says: Well done, you’ve saved my life.

      Throughout the years your father didn’t let you and your brother go to bed before midnight. There were always shadows under your eyes. There was so much to do, so much to learn. He showed you war documentaries and taught you how to look after a gun. At the age of nine you could take a Luger apart and put it back together. You could tell the ammunition of different calibers apart and say which was best suited to which situation. You studied the human body for its most vulnerable spots.

      Even though your father never killed anyone himself, you learned from him and became his tool, while Oskar stumbled after you and couldn’t work out what was going on. He was simply too young. He was frightened, and you protected him. It worked. Your father focused his attention more and more on you, and Oskar was spared.

      You gave your brother that protection until today.

      From Monday evening till Friday night your family led a different life. Even though your father went to work during the day and you were able to resume normal life in the meantime, it was only on the weekends that you really had time to breathe. On Saturday and Sunday your father disappeared without a trace and no one mentioned it. For two days he stopped existing for you. You boys assumed he was carrying out secret missions or perhaps working for the army. Eight years passed before you penetrated his secret. Even now you don’t know if your mother was completely unaware of what was going on. How could she not have known? She wasn’t a weak woman, or a stupid one. But she had fallen for your father, which can turn any strong woman into a pitiful creature.

      Worst of all were the days of discipline. Your father was testing Oskar and you to see if you could keep your mouths shut. He wanted to know how far you would go to protect each other. He thought up games for it. Tell your brother a secret, he said to you. And so you bent down to Oskar and whispered in his ear. What secret did your big brother tell you? your father then asked Oskar, who immediately widened his eyes, held his breath, and shook his head. Sometimes your father ordered him to lie on the floor and then pressed Oskar’s little face into the carpet with one hand. Or else he pulled him up by his hair, until the tips of Oskar’s toes scrabbled above the floor. What secret did your big brother tell you? The same question, over and over again. Tears flowed down Oskar’s cheeks, he didn’t want to disappoint his father, he wanted to be big and strong and show what he had learned. Your father grabbed him by the throat. I can feel the secret, he said, it’s hidden in here, I can feel it, I can feel it really clearly. That was too much for Oskar, he slumped unconscious to the ground. Your father turned to you. Your brother was brave, he didn’t say anything. Now there’s just you. What’s your secret? What am I not supposed to find out? He threatened you with a lot of things, and you were the brave soldier and stood stiffly and looked past him, because eye contact was forbidden. He hit your mother to make you speak. Nothing. He asked you if you wanted him to rape her in front of your eyes. You shook your head and held your tongue. That was a mistake. You’re saying no to me? He took you into the bathroom, and there in the dark and with a wet towel over your head you cracked. It was too much. It was memory and it was the madness of a man who was your father and always found a way into your head. The secret came stammering over your lips. It was over. Your father led you in silence from the bathroom. He waited till your brother was conscious again, then he spat in your face and said, You’re a traitor and you would have gambled away your whole family’s lives. Your brother had to spit on you too and your mother wasn’t allowed to look at you for the rest of the evening.

      It was all a matter of discipline.

      Since that day more than thirty years ago you have known exactly what silence is worth. Today your father could do what he liked to you, he wouldn’t have a chance. You’ve learned from him.

      It takes Tanner and David forty minutes to find the boy. They bring him down to the swimming pool. David tries to tell you all the places they’ve been looking. You wave him away, you don’t want to hear it. They leave you alone.

      He looks like he’s about twelve, but you’re sure he’s older, otherwise he wouldn’t be in your son’s crowd and they wouldn’t be friends. You wait for him to meet your eye before you say, “Do you know who I am?”

      He shakes his head. He doesn’t know your face, but he knows your name.

      “My name is Ragnar Desche.”

      He ducks down, he actually ducks down. Good. His eyes flicker from left to right, he gradually realizes how much trouble he’s in.

      “Your girlfriend stood us up, that’s why you’re here, do you get that?”

      He nods, even though you’re sure he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You let it go, you want to get it over with as quickly as possible.

      “As I’m sure you’ll have noticed, I have a small problem here. You see the man in the armchair?”

      The boy turns his head.

      “His name is Oskar. He was my brother. Now do you understand why I brought you here?”

      The boy looks at you for a moment, then turns his head away. You can see the dark fluff trembling on his top lip. You should ask more questions, make him feel he has something to say.

      “Where do you come from?”

      “From here.”

      “And your parents?”

      “Slovenia.”

      “Do the Slovenians get on with the Serbs?”

      The boy’s eyes wander nervously around the room.

      If СКАЧАТЬ