The Drinker (6 page)

11

I was firmly decided not to return too soon. Let her play about there for a bit on her own; I couldn’t do a thing right, anyway. The whole business had bored me for some time past: now I had a more interesting task on hand, better suited to my present mood—my fight with Magda! Let her match herself against me, and she would find out how much the cleverer I was, and how much more I knew about the law!

I was on my way again, my brief-case under my arm, through a lovely though rather hot day at the end of spring. The Queen of Alcohol—I had neglected her for far too long—she certainly wasn’t dull. Apart from that, it was time I got my shoes back. Nobody was going to say that in my drunkenness I had scattered my clothes over half Europe. Nobody, not even Magda. It was quite clear what this capable lady intended, to whom I had been married up till now. Divorce, all very well, but divorces aren’t arranged so quickly as that; certain preparations have to be made, e.g., an examination by the doctor. Magda had been on good terms with Dr Mansfeld for years. He had always treated her whenever she was ill. I knew him less, I never had much the matter with me. She would probably talk him over to her way of thinking and then I should probably be put under restraint in a home for inebriates. That’s what my fine Magda would like: her husband shut up in a home, preferably third-class of course, while she gets her hands on his property and runs the firm. But there were other doctors, more clever and capable than good old Dr Mansfeld who was only an ordinary G.P., after all: right away within the next few days I would go to one or more of them and get certificates attesting to my perfect health. With such a target before my eyes it should be easy not to drink for a day or two before my visit to the doctor. She would soon find out whom she had to deal with, would Magda; despite fifteen years of married life, she didn’t know her husband at all! Anyway, before I’d give up my property to her, I’d sooner burn the house down over her head, that was certain.

So my thoughts ran, on my way to the village inn, and the filling-in of all the details shortened the journey for me in the most agreeable fashion. For instance, I could dwell on the idea of being shut up in some institution cell, disciplined with cold water and fed on bad food, while Magda ate veal cutlets and asparagus in our pretty dining-room. Tears of self-pity nearly came into my eyes at the thought of my hard lot and Magda’s injustice. In between times, I fed my sandwiches to the village ducks and geese, for as usual lately, I wasn’t in the least hungry, and every so often I dived behind a hedge and took a drink. I never quite lost the feeling of shame that I, Erwin Sommer, was hiding behind a hedge, pouring schnaps into myself like the lowest tramp. I could never take it for granted, I never became quite so blunted. But it just had to be, it couldn’t be otherwise.

I had finished the bottle shortly before reaching my goal. I threw the bottle into the ditch and began my last five minutes’ walk. It was striking noon from the village steeple; before me, behind me, and all around, the villagers were coming from the fields, with hoes and spades over their shoulders. Some of them greeted me, some gave me keen sidelong looks, and others nudged each other, pulled faces and laughed as they passed me by. It may only have been the usual critical village attitude to townsfolk, but I had the suspicion that it might be noticeable I had been drinking, perhaps, or that something about my clothing was disarranged. I was already acquainted with the fact that the worst thing about alcohol was the feeling of uncertainty it gave, as if something was not quite right. You can look in the mirror as often as you like, look your clothes over, try every button, but when you have had something to drink, you are never sure that you have not overlooked something, something quite obvious that has been neglected despite the closest attention. One has similar experiences in dreams, one moves quite happily in the most exclusive society, and suddenly discovers that one has forgotten to put one’s trousers on. Well then, I found it irksome to be so stared at, and besides, it occurred to me that this busy noonday hour would not be the right time for me to go looking for my pretty one. I turned aside into a field path and threw myself down on the grass under a shady bush. At once I fell asleep, into that pitch-black sleep that alcohol induces, in which one is, so to speak, extinguished, one dies a modified death. There are no more dreams, no notion of light and life—off into nothingness!

When I woke up, the sun was already low. I must have been asleep for four, perhaps five hours. As usual nowadays, my sleep had not refreshed me, I woke up old and tired, a shaky feeling in my limbs. My bones were stiff when I stood up; and I found walking very difficult. But I knew by now that all this would be better as soon as I had had my first few drinks, and I hurried to reach the inn.

I had chosen a good time: the bar-room was empty again, there was nobody behind the bar either. Stiffly, I let myself fall into a wicker chair and called for some service. First a woman’s head appeared in the crack of the door; it wasn’t my pale pretty one however, but an unkempt red-nosed elderly character, and then a fat woman looked in, calling “Coming, coming!” and opened the door by the stairway which I had climbed that night, led blindly by the hand.

“Elinor, Elinor, come down!” cried the landlady. She once again assured me that I would be served, and disappeared into the kitchen. So her name was Elinor. I hadn’t been so far out with Elsabe. But Elinor was very good, rather better really. Elinor suited her,
Elinor la reine d’alcool
. Very nice too!

And then I heard her coming down the stairs, not at all gazelle-footed by the way; the door banged open, and in she came. She must have been asleep, her hair was not so neat and carefully pinned as usual, and her light dress was rather rumpled and untidy. She stood for a moment and looked across to me. She did not recognise me at once, she was looking into the sun. Then she cried quite cheerfully: “Oh, it’s only old pop who likes schnaps so much!”, and ran upstairs again. I didn’t really mind this novel and rather painful greeting. I was only pleased at such an unaffected reception. I had been a bit doubtful how she would receive me after my departure over the shed roof that night. But now everything was all right, and I waited patiently for five minutes until she appeared again, spick-and-span. She came straight over to my table, gave me her hand like an old friend, and said amiably, “I thought you were never coming back! What have you been doing all this time? Are you bankrupt now?”

“Not yet,
ma reine,”
I said, smiling too, “but for the time being I’ve handed the business over to my wife, from whom, by the way, I’m getting a divorce. What do you think of that, my pretty one? Perhaps in eight weeks I’ll be on the market. Quite well-preserved, aren’t I?”

She looked at me for a moment, and then the smile vanished from her face, and she said rather coolly and in a businesslike tone, “One schaps, was it? Or a whole bottle again?”

“Quite right, my golden one,” I cried, “a whole bottle again! And another bottle of champagne for yourself!”

“Not in the daytime,” she answered shortly, and went away. A moment later I had plenty to drink, of this coarse watery-coloured stuff that I already liked better than cognac. But except for that, I didn’t get much for my money that afternoon. Elinor was constantly busy, in and out of the barroom, and we could only exchange a few words from time to time.

Upset by this, I drank more than usual, and after about an hour and a half, Elinor had to bring me another bottle, and I realised myself that I was very drunk. Then a few young fellows came in, among them that bricklayer with whom Elinor had been talking so intimately; and just to attract the girl to my table (which only succeeded for a few minutes) I let them all sit with me and ordered for each one whatever he wanted. In a short time my table offered a wild spectacle. Beer and schnaps glasses, wine and champagne bottles stood on it in wild confusion, and around it were grouped a horde of wildly talking, shouting, laughing, gesticulating figures, and I was the wildest and drunkest of the lot. I felt myself absolutely liberated, I really was a stone hurtling into the abyss—I absolutely ceased to think.

In all our uproar we did not hear the car pull up, and when two gentlemen came in we hardly noticed them. I was just shouting some protestation or other to the man opposite me—he wasn’t even listening—when suddenly I stopped as if a hand had been clapped over my mouth, for one of these gentlemen, who had sat down at the next table, greeted me with a friendly “Good evening,” and this gentleman was Dr Mansfeld. I didn’t know the other gentleman. Even my drinking companions fell silent; and though they saw that nothing further was happening, that the gentlemen at the next table were quietly drinking their beer, deep in conversation, even then the old jollity did not return. One after the other, they faded away, and at last I was left alone in this wilderness of glasses and bottles, and I looked in vain for Elinor; she did not come to restore order to the chaos. Probably she was outside the door flirting with the young bricklayer, who was doubtless a lover of hers. After the wild abandon of a few moments ago, a deep depression fell over me, I gnawed my lips and shot suspicious glances at the neighbouring table, where they were taking no notice of me at all. My suspicions were aroused, I wondered whether Dr Mansfeld had turned up here by mere coincidence in the course of going the round of his practice, or whether Magda had asked him to come. I racked my brains to remember whether in my drunkenness I might have given Magda the name of this little resort of mine, or whether I might have let slip some indication so that it was not difficult to trace—but I could not remember. The second gentleman seemed familiar to me but I couldn’t quite place him.…

I could have done with another drink, and the brandy bottle was close enough at hand, but in front of the two guests at the next table I did not dare to fill my glass. I told myself that in view of the state of this table and my wild behaviour of a short time ago, nothing could make matters worse, and yet I still didn’t dare.

At last Elinor came back into the bar-room. I called her to me and quietly asked her for the bill. While she totted up a row of figures on her pad, standing bent over me and hiding me rather from the view of the next table, I swallowed down two or three quick mouthfuls. Then I carefully corked the bottle and thrust it into my brief-case. Elinor gave a sharp glance at what I was doing and, indicating the next table, she whispered with raised eyebrows: “Friends?” I merely shrugged my shoulders. The bill was so steep that it took nearly all my money down to the last mark, and left only a quite inadequate tip for Elinor. She looked at me again with raised eyebrows, and whispered: “Cleaned out?”

I answered just as quietly, “I know where to get more. Till the next time,
ma reine.”

She nodded lightly.

Now I had to get up and walk, under the watchful eyes of the gentlemen at the next table. I took my brief-case and made sure in advance on which hook my hat was hanging so that I shouldn’t have to search round for it as I went out. Then I stood up. I felt I could manage. I would have to move slowly and very carefully, and then it would be all right. After all, I only needed to get out of the village to one first sheltering bush, or better still, a happy thought!—I only needed to lock myself up in the toilet here, and I could sleep as long as I wanted to. I had fresh provisions with me.

Already I had politely said “Good evening” to the next table as I got up, and now I was at the door only a step from salvation, when a voice behind me said: “Oh, just a moment, Herr Sommer!”

It gave me such a start, I nearly fell.

“I beg your pardon?” I cried in an unnecessarily loud voice. The doctor had taken hold of my arm and supported me.

“Did I startle you? I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, nothing,” I said, embarrassed. “It must have been this wretched carpet I stumbled over.…” And I looked crossly at the carpet which lay quite smooth.

“I only wanted to ask you, Herr Sommer,” Dr Mansfeld went on, “if I might perhaps offer you a lift home in my car.”

He paused, and then said smilingly, “We’ve been celebrating a bit, haven’t we? Never mind, we all like to do that occasionally. But getting home might be a bit hard going, mightn’t it? So you come with us.”

He took me amiably but firmly under the arm. The other gentleman had paid and now he came over to us. “May I introduce you?” said the doctor, “Herr Sommer—Dr Stiebing, our district medical officer.”

With that he took me out of the inn and over to the car. I followed him like a sheep to the slaughter—the district medical officer!

So it was not chance, after all. It was a cleverly laid trap! That damned Magda! She wanted to get the better of me. She acted fast, I must admit. But I was clever too, I would have to play a part, be cunning, counter guile with guile.

“Well,” I suddenly laughed merrily, “two doctors, they should be able to manage a poor drunkard, eh? Have mercy on me gentlemen!” With that, I sat in the back of the car, while the other two gentlemen, also laughing, took their seats in front. We were just about to start when Elinor came running out of the house. She was carrying an ugly parcel wrapped up in newspaper, and she handed it into the open car. She said in a loud voice: “Here’s your shoes that you forgot the other night!” She gave a sneering laugh as she looked at me with her big white face and colourless eyes. Her mouth was very red.

After an embarrassed silence, the doctor asked, “Shall we go now?”

I answered, “Yes,” and the car moved off.

12

I am quite unable to describe how I felt during that journey. Abysmal desperation alternated with a paralysing apathy which terrified me even in that state of mind. It was as if I lay imprisoned in some heavy nightmare, close to waking all the time and yet unable to waken, and becoming involved in ever deeper and more fearful horrors. On a seat beside me lay the parcel containing my shoes. The newspaper had burst open and I saw them, smeared and dusty. I looked at one of the soles: dreadful, simply dreadful what pretty Elinor had done, worthy of a queen of schnaps.

“Yes,” I thought, “that’s how alcohol tortures and makes fools of its disciples. It’s the only thing capable of such dumb-founding surprises. One thinks one is safe, one has acted the part well, one has overcome the worst, and suddenly it thrusts its devil’s face forward, flays your breast with its claws, leaves you trembling, destroys your dignity.…
La reine d’alcool
—if I ever see you again, you won’t have a good time with me, Elinor!”

I could stand it no longer. With a glance I made sure that the two gentlemen were deep in conversation. I drew the bottle out of the case, uncorked it, and took a few long pulls. But I had not thought of the driving mirror.

“Not too much now, and not too fast, my dear Herr Sommer,” said Dr Mansfeld, and lifted a warning hand from the steering wheel. “We would like to have a sensible talk with you later.”

The scoundrel, the glib medical scoundrel! Now that he had me in his car, he let the mask drop, I wasn’t being driven to my home, but to some medical discussion at which just by chance the district health officer happened to be present!

From then on I was absolutely calm and collected. The schnaps I had just drunk lent me new strength and concentration. I had a firm aim in view—to get this discussion deferred by hook or by crook; later on, certainly, under circumstances more favourable for me, but today, outwitted like this by order of her ladyship—no thank you, my dear!

The car went on and on. Already we were on the outskirts of town and so far I’d had no opportunity to withdraw my partnership in this journey. But then a big locomotive pulling two trucks came rather suddenly out of the goods-yard. The doctor put his brakes on and pulled over to the left side of the road, and in the meantime I had gently opened the car door; and now that the train had passed and the doctor was accelerating again, I jumped lightly out, staggered for a moment, threatened to fall and then caught myself. I stood, waved my hand after the car to give passers-by the impression that this sudden descent had been with the knowledge of the people in it, and then walked off briskly, taking the right fork in the road, along the goods-yard fence, to a small dilapidated colony which the townsfolk call the “shed district.” I shook with inner laughter to think that the two clever doctors would bring no more back from their expedition than the drunkard’s shoes.