I grew to full manhood. Actually, five foot six, which is technically not full manhood in Doria, but you can own property. Over five foot three, you can own land. Under five foot three, you need permission from the Dictator.
The fiddlers, accompanied by a trio of windtube players, played with unfettered gusto. Their fingers flew at a brisk pace through the lively allegro. It was some folk tune that I had heard many times before, something about talking animals and nationalism. Several of the attendees listened closely and clapped along including Father. It was good to see him happy again even if for ignoble reasons. It was incredible how well they could keep in tune, in tempo and in touch without any discernable communication. There must be an inherent intimacy among them, I thought, one that is far too uncommon in the world. For all we love to celebrate musicians, they are notorious gatekeepers of their craft. Perhaps they perpetuate the mystery to provoke and maintain our fascination in them. Someday I hope to divine some understanding of their mystical arts.
At the arranged dinner, a professional toastmaster, or tamada, had been arranged for the evening. The man was a master of this art form. Early on, he turned to me and, foreshadowing the rest of the evening, remarked, “We call the man who drinks without a toast an alcoholic.”
Such gatherings would be a little raucous. Enormous quantities of alcohol would be drunk, but no one ever seemed seriously inebriated. They would emerge noisily from the house at one or two in the morning and try, often vainly, to find a ride home.
We were three healthy men. My brother Niels. My brother Julius. And myself. And while I participated little in the festivities, due to philosophical disagreements, I did attempt to demonstrate my abilities during the dancing portion of the night.
Finally, there was my childhood-love Lise. In addition to being the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, she was one of the few people I could have deep conversations with. I hadn’t talked to her in cycles and this was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. But I had nothing to go on, what was I even going to say? I resented the whole occasion to begin with, how could I feign such pleasantry? It was a hopeless endeavor.
The two of them sure seemed to spend a lot of time together. They conversed for what felt like hours. Interestingly, eavesdropping-time actually moves differently than real time. I don’t remember when but I think I heard that somewhere. In all that time, all I could catch were bits of her courteous laughter and his belabored punchlines. I never thought Niels especially funny; if you didn’t laugh at his jokes, he would just keep repeating them until he heard you. He was attentive, a little avuncular, tolerant in his judgements, fierce in his pride and nationalism and, of course ripped as-all-hell. Even at his age, his sexual escapades were legendary among his colleagues. Although, he never permitted himself so much as a good-night kiss with Lise. This had distressed me a little, though his affection for her was plain. Niels and Lise, dear Almighty, a scene of picturesque surrealism. But what could old, five foot six, Enriko do about it? For a moment, I felt exactly like Doria, actively watching a problem that I could do nothing to solve. Surrounded by friends, yet completely alone.
The attic door’s rusty hinges creaked a wheezy laugh. The room was just as silent and dusty as I remembered it. One could scream as loud as they wanted to and there would be no response apart from maybe a faint echo.
Enriko: HELLO!
Enirko: HELLO!
Enriko: HELLOOOOO!
Lise: Hello.
Enriko: Lise, what are you doing here?
Lise: Just checking in. I brought you something.
Enriko: You hAVe?
My inquisitive tone must have slipped straight into a voice crack. She handed me a container wrapped, with a delicate hand, in blue ribbons. Had she, of all people, remembered my cyclic anniversary? Grabbing the box, I sat down on the old dresser; it settled with a crunch. She sat next to me, peering over my shoulder to witness the unwrapping. Her expectant eyes indicating a breathless enthusiasm.
Enriko: It’s…a leaf.
Lise: Yes, but look at it. Isn’t it just perfect?
Enriko: I guess.
I gazed intently at the variegated veins, searching for answers. "It’s the thought that counts?" I supposed. But before I could so much utter a syllable of thanks, she gestured forcefully back at the box, smacking me accidentally in the process.
Enriko: Ow.
Lise: And this one too? Look.
Enriko: Very nice.
Lise: Oh, yeah.
Beguiled by the charmingly humble gesture, I smiled warmly at her. This seemed to please her about as much as everything else did. Good ol’ Lise, it was nice to see her again and even nicer to know she still thought of him at least a little. It was a little excessive vice versa. And now, she was superbly giddy, enough to kickstart another one of her evening pontifications.
Lise: Yes, I definitely think that this is the best of all possible worlds.
Enriko: Yeah… it’s certainly the most expensive.
Lise: Isn’t nature incredible, Enriko?
Enirko: Eh, I mean, to me, nature is, you know… I dunno, some insects and bugs and, big creatures eating little creatures. And plants eating plants and animals eating… It’s like an enormous restaurant. That’s the way I see it.
Lise: Yes, but if Almighty created it, it has to be beautiful, even if His plan’s not apparent to us at the moment.
My attention turned, dropping the leaves back into the box. Maybe she had changed after all. Was she no longer the free-thinking skeptic of their youth? After all my rationalism and resistance to the ideas imposed by years of seminary school, was she not quite as resilient?
Enriko: Lise, what if there is no Almighty?
Lise: Enriko of Doria, are you joking?
She asked with a nervous half-chuckle, but I couldn’t have been more serious. I stood up to regain some composure, not that I had much to begin with.
Enriko: No, seriously. What if we're just a bunch of absurd people who are running around with no rhyme or reason?
Lise: But if there is no Almighty, then life has no meaning. Why go on living? Why not just commit suicide?
Enriko: Well, let's not get hysterical. I could be wrong. I'd hate to blow my brains out, then read in the papers they found something.
There were many claims and sightings over the years. I never found any of them particularly convincing. Time had whittled down enough faith to reveal some inquiry deep within me but never enough to take drastic actions, only to pose controversial questions. I possessed no strong convictions either way.
Lise: Enriko. Let me show you how absurd your position is. Alright, let's say there is no Almighty, and each man is free to do exactly as he chooses. Well, what prevents you from murdering somebody?
Enriko: Well, murder's immoral.
Lise: Immorality is subjective.
Enriko: Yes, but subjectivity is objective.
Lise: Not in any rational scheme of perception.
Enriko: Perception is irrational. It implies imminence.
Lise: But judgment of any system or a priori relation of phenomena exists in any rational, or metaphysical or at least epistemological contradiction to an abstracted empirical concept such as being, or to be, or to occur in the thing itself, or of the thing itself.
Enriko: Yeah, I've said that many times.
Lise: Enriko, we must believe in Almighty.
Enriko: If I could just see a miracle, just one miracle. If I could see a burning bush, or the seas part, or... Or my Uncle Sasha pick up a check.
Lise: We should go back downstairs. By now the last yellow streaks of the sunset are vanishing behind the Eastern Hills. Soon the dark blanket of night shall settle over us all.
Enriko: Hey, you've been going to finishing school.
She stood up and headed out, perhaps out of annoyance of my impetuosity. Was I too rash? Debating faith, suicide and murder was certainly not the conversational itinerary I was expecting. But that was part of why Lise was such great conversation, you never knew what to expect. Yet as her footsteps echoed to the door, I was struck by a sudden realization of my dwindling opportunity. There were still so many things left unsaid and questions left unanswered —a particularly nagging one on my mind at the time. But this discussion was already on its way out.
Enriko: Hey, wait!
She turned with more patience than I anticipated and what appeared to be just the tiniest bit of trepidation in her eyes.
Enriko: I’ve got a question for you.
Lise: What is it?
It nagged at me for the last time. My hands fell into a twiddling mess trying to swat it. In an attempt to quell the feeling, I—wincing my eyes and turning my gaze—sputtered it out.
Enriko: Are you dating any Dorians I should know about?
She seemed as eager to continue as I was. Maybe that was troubling?
Lise: Well, Hans has proposed. And he's very sweet and wealthy. But the age difference is too great.
Enriko: How big?
Lise: I'm 28 and he's 81.
Enriko: Oh, that is big.
Lise: When I'm 50, he'll be, um, 103.
Enriko: That's a bad age for a man. They slow up a lot.
It unnerved me a little to think of all the older men who sought Lise’s affection, especially ones whose age gap was large enough to sail a ship through. But I suppose comparable age was a point in my favor. I was not getting older by the day. Well…bad example.
Lise: Oh, and Antoine has made his intentions clear. But he deals in herring, and he always smells of herring. He even bought me herring-scented cologne.
Enriko: Oh really? That's probably why the cat follows you around.
I was starting to question whether I wanted this information or not. Were these parables of unrequited love an invitation or an indictment? As with most things about her, it was impossible to pin down.
Lise: Love is everything, Enriko. I wanna meet some man and scale the heights of passion. Some man who embodies the three great aspects of love. Intellectual, spiritual and sensual.
Enriko: Well, there's not too many of us around, but it can be done.
Lise: So many women settle cheaply.
Enriko: I know. Poor things.
I too had seen many other women engage in foolish relationship over the cycles. And for what?
Lise: They marry for money.
Enriko: Money! Ha! Well, money…
Lise: But I tell you, I feel as though my life would be wasted if I didn't love deeply with a man whose mind I respected, whose spirituality equaled mine, and who had the same lustful appetite for sensual passion that drives me insane.
Enriko: You're an incredibly complex woman.
Lise: I guess you could say I'm half saint, half whore.
Enriko: Here's hoping I get the half that eats.
The tension was killing me. I had to know. The moment seemed perfect, indeed too perfect. Not sure how that was even possible, but it felt appropriate. There were too many thoughts in my head. Damn things, I could never make a good judgement with them flying around in there. But before any more thinking could be done, she spoke words which I’d been waiting my whole life to hear. Yes, she was right. Oh, this was the best of all possible worlds!
Lise: Enriko.
Enriko: Yes?
Lise: I have a confession to make.
Lise: Ever since you and I were little children,
Lise: I've been in love…
Lise: With your brother Niels.
Enriko: It's only natur... Niels?
This was the worst of all possible worlds.
Eniko: You're kidding! He can barely write his name in the ground with a stick.
Lise: He has true animal magnetism.
Enriko: Animal magnetism? All that talk about some perfect love and you're hot for Niels?
Lise: He kissed me.
Enriko: Any place I should know?
Lise: It warmed the cockles of my heart.
Enriko: That’s just great. Nothing like hot cockles.
Lise: I think he's going to ask me to marry him.
Enriko: But he's a gambler and a drinker, with a barbaric mentality.
Lise: Isn’t he your brother?
Enriko: Don’t get me wrong, I love him like a brother. Just not one of mine.
I couldn’t believe it. Betrayed by my own brother. Years of being nice to him…wasted. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind at the time that it was a personal attack. It couldn’t have been accidental. He was always better than me at everything and this just another show of skill. A demonstration of superiority. A reminder of the status quo in the form of a letter attached to the arrow lodged in my back. Almighty, I was so embarrassed. I wished everyone else was dead.
Lise: Do you hear that commotion? What's going on downstairs?
All the remaining guests—sober or otherwise—had flooded into the conference room. It was used sparingly in our house, it seemed mostly to be a tidy space to put by the window so that lookers-on would marvel at our façade of opulence. Standing in the doorway was the local letterboy, James. The attendees gathered around him in droves, berating him with an onslaught of questions. Breathlessly, he attempted to appeal to the best of his ability. Much of the room was huddled in separate circles. Some whispering, some arguing and plenty more drinking. Julius stood against the table in the middle of the room, examining a tabletop map with probing fingers. A couple of others watched, nodded and stroked beards. When we entered the room, I attempted to stay relatively inconspicuous as I had been for most of the evening but Lise’s ostentatious garments were difficult to ignore.
Julius: Have you heard the news? The Phrygian Principal has invaded Doria.
Enriko: Why? Is he out of Vodka?
Julius: At least, a chance to taste the glories of battle.
The evening was worsening by the second. All my protests were entirely in vain. How would the Undergrounders react? Were they even still around? Did they get caught and detained? I needed to leave and some time to think.
Enriko: Well, check with me when it's over, Julius. I’ll be in the game room.
Uncle Nikolai: No, Enriko. You're going to fight.
Somehow, Uncle Nikolai must have overheard something. I turned around to see his domineering figure towering over me.
Enriko: ‘You’re going to fight’? You're gonna have your head examined.
Niels: We leave the day after tomorrow.
Enriko: Fellas, I'm a pacifist. I don't believe in war.
Uncle Nikolai: He doesn't believe in war. Hah!
He turned to face some of the other folks.
Enriko: Hey, would you keep it down?
Uncle Nikolai: The Principal, now he believes in war. Haahahahaaah!
His laughter reverberated through the corridors of the whole house. In a swift motion, he turned to me and spoke with a softer, somber and humorless tone. It was drastic and haunting. Each syllable sent chills down my spine. Was this his real voice? Was his joviality some kind of affectation or was this?
Uncle Nikolai: What are you going to do when the Phrygian soldiers rape your sister?
Enriko: I-I-I don't have a sister.
Uncle Nikolai: That's no answer.
Enriko: Who they gonna rape, Niels? They'll throw up.
Father must’ve caught something too, perhaps his son’s name.
Pierre: Don't disgrace me in front of my friends!
Enriko: What good is war? We kill a few Phrygians, they kill a few Dorians, and then next thing you know, it's laundry day. I’m not going.
Despite my best efforts, by this point, everyone was listening.
Marie: Are you speaking of draft evasion? That’s terrible!
Enriko: Well, it’s not as good as tax evasion, but I’m still gonna do it.
Lise: Enriko, you can’t be serious, you're talking about Mother Doria.
Enriko: She's not my mother. My mother’s standing right here and she’s not gonna let her youngest baby get shrapnel in his gums.
Marie: Get away from me.
Indeed, it seemed everyone was keeping their distance. It reminded me of my birth but with measurable embarrassment and immeasurable shame.
Pierre: I can't believe what I'm seeing.
Julius: Our brother has a yellow streak down his back.
Enriko: No, it’s not down. It runs across.
Lise: Enriko, you're a coward!
Enriko: Yes, but I’m a militant coward.
Niels: Enriko. Medals... We'll get medals.
Enriko: Take it easy, will you Niels? You've gotta cut down on your raw meat.
Mother: He'll go and he'll fight. And I hope they will put him in the front lines.
Enriko: Thanks a lot, Mum. My mother, folks.
The rabble had been roused alright. The crowd returned to its huddled chatter. What unseemly idealism. How disappointing for someone of such potential. Where did his parents go so wrong? Father couldn’t even muster the strength for a disdainful look. It was as if it was no longer a superficial, the disappointment was now deep inside him. Not even Mother, who—though infrequently—had always been the face of parental tenderness, would give so much as a momentary sidelong glance. I had not known it then but that morning’s blueberry blintz—my favorite—would be my last. There was only one person, though begrudgingly so, would even listen to me.
Enriko: This is crazy. I can't shoot a gun. I was meant to write poetry. Lise, I'm not the army type. I slept with the light on ‘til I was 21. I can't shower with other men.
I had never seen her roll her eyes before. Even with her coldness, I was still hopelessly attracted to her. But not worthy of reply, I slipped out of the room. Still in earshot, Niels began gathering everyone up in the center of the room. Peeking through the doorway, I wondered, was he standing on a chair or was he really just that tall?
Niels: Friends. My friends. On the eve of this glorious occasion, I have an announcement to make. Because we go into battle, perhaps never to see our loved ones again, I wish to announce that tomorrow I intend to marry.
I had taken up the spotlight for too long and Niels—the punctual superstar—was ready to reclaim it. Maybe he was doing me a favor, attempting to distract the fickle attention of the audience so that maybe my ostracization would be prolonged a day or two.
Niels: I'm going to take as my bride a woman I have grown up with.
I was happy for her and to a lesser extent him too. I’d like to imagine that I played some small role in the circumstances that lead them to one another. Who knows, if I had my way and was never born maybe they would have never found true love. I am blessed with the gift of finding solace in the happiness of others. Something much of our species would benefit trem—
Niels: Mary Anning.
Wait, what?
Enirko: Wait, what?
Lise: Wait, what?!
There were several rounds of applause. Niels took them with a shocking degree of grace. It wasn’t humble but it was graceful. Surprised, she looked at him with sad, indignant eyes.
Lise: Niels…
Niels: I'm sorry. I should have told you.
My first thought—as soon as I had understood what had happened—was not for my old childhood friend pitifully heartbroken before my eyes; not amazement at the prospect that Niels, my own brother, was about to get married; not the recognition that this might be the last time I see my family again. No, clear as a bell, my thought had been I still have a chance, she’ll need someone, there’s nobody else, it can be me.
I had caught myself in an instant. But it was too late. I was aghast at my self-involvement, at the contemptible egotism I had revealed to myself in this moment of crisis. I was appalled to find them, even momentarily, with me-so…vigorous, busy, planning future courses of action, oblivious to everything except myself. What I detested most was the absolute unselfconsciousness of my ego. It made no apologies, gave no quarter, and plunged on. It was unwholesome. I knew it would be impossible to tear it out, root and branch. I would have to work on it patiently, reason with it, distract it, maybe even threaten it.
But in this momentary self-reflection, someone else had been soul-searching as well.
Lise: I also have an announcement to make. Tomorrow, I too get married. Yes, I have been proposed to and have accepted the hand of Hans Albrecht Bethe.
It was unbelievable to me. A 53-year age gap was apparently not a deal-breaker for her. Hans was, of course, touched by the gesture. He took his walking stick and rose out of his chair, moving toward her. He approached with caution but not evidently enough. In an instant, he dropped his cane, grabbing his chest. It was a heart attack. Many flocked to his aid. Lise’s inappropriate sigh of relief was disguised under her—perhaps less appropriate—nervous laugh.
Lise: Yes... I mean Antoine Becquerel, the herring merchant.
The fish man? Seriously? I was in disbelief; my days of seminary school came flooding back to me. If the Almighty was there, he seemed to want a rise out of me. Truly, this was the was the worst kind of discrimination. The kind that affected me.
Whether or not I was going to war, it was clear I would not be at home anytime soon. When I was to be taken by carriage out to the training camp, the last yellow streak would vanish behind the Eastern Hills and soon the dark blanket of night would settle over us all. I was out of time, out of tune and out of touch.
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