The Box Man (17 page)

When he got back from school that day, in order to ensure his freedom around five o’clock, he made up some excuse to delay his mother’s shopping. About four forty,

after he had made sure that the practicing was over and that the usual final piece had begun, he at last got his mother out. After slipping on a pair of canvas gym shoes with the backs trodden down, and with his periscope under his arm, he sneaked out into the garden. Contrary to what he had imagined, the periscope would not reach the little window from this side of the board fence. Being caught in the act of peeking on this side of the fence might be rather more sticky. He felt that the chances of being challenged would be less by getting on the other side. As long as he didn’t expressly inform his victim that he was peeking … as long as his victim, even if she was aware that she was being spied on, kept on pretending to take no notice… he vaguely expected that a kind of collusion would arise between the person being spied on and the person spying. He certainly could not consider that the timid and reserved confession of love that peeking is was all that censurable.

D slipped under the board fence and came up on the other side. It was more damp than the garden of his own house. The space between the building and the fence was scarcely two feet wide, and it was rare that anyone entered; spongy liverwort formed a thick covering. Slipping in sideways, he crouched in the space between the toilet and the fence. He was lucky. The edge of the dust opening was open about two inches. Naturally he used the periscope horizontally. His breathing quickened and his chest hurt. Leaning back against the fence, he closed his eyes. After taking a breath, he adjusted the periscope and took his position. First of all, the porcelain toilet bowl came into view. It was not white as he had imagined it, but a baby blue. Yet the floor was of white tiles, and rubber sandals painted silver stood in a line. No matter how he adjusted the mirrors, the field of vision just shifted right and left and he was not able to establish the necessary angle. He must be calm. Since he was using the instrument horizontally, he would have to revolve the tube so as to see up and down. The walls were ply board printed with wood grain.

It seemed to him that time passed extremely slowly. The music too today seemed especially long. His whole body felt warm, and his breathing sounded like a whistle. His cranium opened with the pressure, and his eyeballs flew out like cork bullets. His mother would doubtless be coming back soon. The pretentious rhythms of the piano attacked the joints of his knees like some nervous disease. He was carried away by a compulsion to enter the house, to destroy the piano.

Nevertheless, the music somehow drew to an end. Soon came the several final bars he was accustomed to . then the final drawn out chord. D told himself not to expect too much, that to anticipate success the first time would be too presumptuous. Since the temperature today was high and the day dry, the number of times one urinated would necessarily be proportionately fewer. Yet, he could not but be expectant. D began to quiver. He could not get enough air through his nose alone. He left his mouth open, and his whole body was pulsating like a pump.

Suddenly a voice sounded next to his ear.

“And just who are you? What are you doing? And don’t try and get away. If you do report you.”

He cringed. He was pinned to the ground. He had no strength to shift his glance in order to see from what direction the voice was coming. His gasping breathing, he thought, was like the red, lighted end of a sparkler dangling at the end of its paper string.

“Go around in front and come in through the entrance.” The voice was not all that threatening, and that was a relief. “All right … get up . quickly now.” Quite definitely the voice seemed to come from the toilet. But he could see no one. From where and how, he wondered, could he be seen? “Don’t forget that weird piece of machinery there. Go directly round in front. The door’s not locked, and you can come right in.” Was she going to finish urinating, he wondered, or would she stop now? The position of his periscope was definitely wrong. “Do you understand? You’re not to run away. Now go around in front right away, and no loitering.”

It looked as if there were nothing for him to do except do as he was told. It certainly seemed out of the question to take to his heels. If he interpreted the warning not to run away as meaning that if he did not she would not report him to the school or to his parents, then whatever his punishment he had best get it over with here. In the state of mind of a lamb being led to slaughter and clutching his periscope that had proved useless to his breast, he circled the building and proceeded in the direction of the entrance. The door, which had always suggested to him the sensation of touching folds of flesh, had now changed to a feeling of concrete.

Immediately inside the door was a spacious music room with a piano. He saw the sound absorbent wood dotted with holes that gave him an itchy sensation just looking at it. On the floor lay a green carpet. At the same time as he closed the door behind him another inner door opened, and the lady instructor entered. Behind her came the sound of flushing water. She had evidently finished urinating after he had been discovered. In a corner of his conscience her white buttocks projecting into the toilet bowl overlapped with the swirl of the flushing. Since he could not raise his face he experienced an oppression as if he were face to face with her naked buttocks.

“I’ll lock the door,” she said, going around in back of him, and there was the sound of a key turning over. “You’re not ashamed, are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Your voice is beginning to change. What you did is natural, I suppose, but I hate dirty acts. You are probably ashamed, but I am a lot more. To the extent you’re embarrassed you make me feel embarrassed too. What are we to do? If I gloss it over, you’ll just repeat the same thing… .”

“No, I won’t.”

“I wonder.”

“I really won’t.”

“But even so, I can’t very well let you go completely unpunished, can I. I think it would be best to make you experience the same feelings that you caused me.”

The lady teacher turned to the piano and suddenly began to let her fingers run over the keyboard. It was a section of the piece she habitually played last of all. It was splendid, like piled marbles, quite different from the sound audible through the wall. It was like a silken flag softly streaming in the breeze. Increasingly D thought himself wretched and dirty, and finally he was unable to stop the overflow of tears.

“What do you think of this piece?”

“Oh, I like it.”

“Do you really?”

“I like it very much.”

“Do you know who the composer was?”

“It was Chopin. Wonderful, marvelous Chopin.” Suddenly she stopped playing the piano and stood up. “Well, then, take off your clothes. Strip naked. I’ll go in the other room.”

D did not at once take in what she had said. Even when the lady teacher had withdrawn, he simply remained standing absently for some time.

“What’s wrong? Why are you so slow?” came her voice from the other side of the door. “I’m looking at you right now through the keyhole. If you really think you embarrassed me, you can surely do what I ask.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“But I told you! Take off your clothes. Since you put me in exactly the same position, no excuses now.”

“Won’t you forgive me?”

“Certainly not. Would it be better if I reported it to your father or your mother?”

D was defeated. His stomach sank to his bladder, and his chest seemed to become hollow. He didn’t particularly dislike getting naked. Concerning that point, in his own way he assumed that they would come to a mutual understanding. But he was not at all self confident. If he were to strip, like it or not, he was sure to get an erection. Would the lady instructor ever pardon his reacting like that? he wondered. It was unbelievable that she would. She would get angry and this time would certainly not overlook his offense. Or if not that, she would hold her sides with laughter. Whichever, he was too miserable. Since he realized that he was so wretched, he wondered if his erection would not go down a bit. But it wouldn’t work. Just by thinking of being naked he had already started to get a hard on. Even while he was being laughed at, his erection would keep on growing.

He resigned himself. Braving his own ugliness, he took off his coat, stripped away his shirt, and lowering his trousers, he was stark naked. He was firmly erect. Yet there was no reaction. Beyond the door everything remained perfectly quiet. It was not simply that there was no sound, but a hush like some substance was cowering there. Her gaze, turning into black light, came piercing through the keyhole. From his field of vision the color vanished and there was only chiaroscuro. Sensation vanished from the soles of his feet. As he tottered along he began to pass water. It was not urine, but a seminal emission. He could not stop himself once he had started. He fell on his knees, and covering his face with his hands, he pretended to cry. There were, of course, no tears. In an instant his viscera dried up like a beach at dawn.

“Do you understand now?” Her voice on the other side of the door was dry too. He nodded. Indeed, he understood very well. He understood profoundly, more than his nod to her indicated, more than he himself realized.

“You had better go home now.”

The inner door opened a crack, and the key to the front door that came flying in fell soundlessly to the floor. It was a door he could have opened without a key from the inside.

The door of the hospital that I finally reached is locked, and a card announcing that there. are no examinations today has been hung out. In the back the friendly dog sniffs hoarsely through its nose. I ring the bell. Being impatient, I push on it without letting up. There is an indication that someone is coming. Suddenly the door is flung open, and the girl with wide open arms hastily invites me in. She walks away toward the inside as she says something quickly. I do not really catch what she says, but apparently she is grumbling to herself, mistaking me for the fake box man (or the fake doctor). The best thing is to correct this sort of misapprehension at once. Coughing, I begin to explain.

“I’m not the doctor. I’m the real thing … the genuine article. The former photographer who was waiting under the bridge last night… .”

With parted lips she quickly scrutinizes me from top to toe. Her expression is vague with surprise.

“I’m in a quandary,” she says. “You didn’t keep your promise, did you. Take off your box right away. Maybe you don’t know it, but …”

“Oh, yes, I do. You’re talking about the doctor. I saw him a little while ago in the street.”

“Take it off … please.”

“But I can’t. That’s why I came running in such a hurry.”

“That won’t work … not at the point we’re at.”

“But I’m naked. Stark naked. After I saw you at the hospital I took a shower at the bathhouse and was waiting for the underclothes I washed to dry. I’ve got to put something on before I can leave the box. I planned to come here after disposing of it. Because I want you to see how I keep my promises. But I fell asleep. I slept so hard it was like being rolled over and crushed under a construction roller. Furthermore, I had a series of dreams, and since I could not sleep in them, although I remained lying down until a while ago, I’m still suffering from lack of sleep. But when I opened my eyes, my underclothes and trousers that had been hung out to dry had vanished. What a mess! I had the impression that near dawn I had had a dream in which a lot of children raced around with a flag attached to the end of a pole, but perhaps it wasn’t a dream but actually happened. When I thought about it I had the feeling that it wasn’t a flag but my trousers. I didn’t know what to do. Somewhere, somehow, I had to get at least some trousers. I would find some trousers, any old rags would do. As I thought about it, I headed in the direction of the town, whereupon a box man, exactly the same as I, was walking in the area at the end of the embankment. Too late, I thought. I had no time for trousers. I had to get to the hospital.”

Suddenly she begins to laugh. Supporting her body bent double on her heels, she shakes with laughter. At first the laughter is unpleasant and jeering; but in the midst of it the sting leaves it, and it turns into amused laughter. She finishes laughing, relaxed, and her tone changes to a cheerful and friendly one.

“I don’t mind if you’re naked. A promise is a promise.” “I’m sorry. Can’t you lend me some trousers? Any old ones will do.”

“Well, then, I’ll strip too. Anyway you mean to take my picture, I imagine. We don’t have to be shy, do we, with both of us naked?”

“There’s not much point in seeing a man naked, is there?”

“Oh, you’re wrong,” she replies expressionlessly, beginning at once to take off her clothes. Blouse … skirt … brassiere. “I don’t like that box. I can’t stand it another second.”

She stands without reserve before me naked. About her lips there is a touch of teasing. But in her eyes lurks dark entreaty. She is naked, but she doesn’t seem to be at all. Being naked suits her too well, But that is not true of me. The lower half of my body, particularly, that peeks out from the box is exceedingly comical, I imagine. “Close your eyes a while. Turn in that direction.”

“All right,” she says, her voice filled with laughter, and turning her back, she leans her shoulder against the wall of the corridor. As I take off my boots, I have the feeling that my whole body is shaking slightly. Quietly I extricate myself from the box, noiselessly approach her from behind, and put a hand on her shoulder. As she does not try to resist, I reduce the distance between us even more. I tell myself emphatically as I do so that I must forever maintain this closeness.

“Is it all right? What if the doctor should come back?” “He won’t. He doesn’t even want to …”

“The smell of your hair is so good.”

“What a beautiful, firm ass …”

“I confess … I was a fake.”

“Ssh … don’t say any more… .”

“But these notes are the real thing. They’re the will the real box man gave me to keep.”