The Character of Rain by Amelie Nothomb

Author:Amelie Nothomb [Nothomb, Amélie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312302481
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

I SPENT MY NIGHTS standing on my pillow, gripping the bars of my crib, staring at my father and mother as if preparing notes for a behavioral study about them. They felt a growing unease about this. The steadiness of my gaze intimidated them to the point that they started to lose sleep. It was time I slept somewhere other than in their room.

I was moved into a kind of attic, which thrilled me. Here was a whole new ceiling to look at, and from a first glance the cracks seemed more expressive than those on the ceiling in my parents’ bedroom, the ones I had been observing for the previous two and a half years. There were also piles of objects to subject to my avid visual interrogation: trunks, old clothes, a deflated kiddy pool, beaten-up tennis racquets, and boxes.

Soon I was staring at the boxes, thinking that what-ever they contained must be very precious. The crib was much too high for me to climb out and investigate for myself, much as I wanted to.

At the end of April, a wonderful new thing happened: the window in my room was left open at night. I didn’t think I had ever slept with an open window, and what an incredible thing it turned out to be. I could register all those strange sounds that those who sleep remain ignorant of, interpreting what they meant, endowing them with meaning. My crib was placed directly below the window, and when the night breeze blew the curtains open I saw the violet sky. It was comforting to learn that night was not jet black.

My favorite noise was the distant barking of some unidentifiable and tormented dog, which I baptized Yorukoé—“evening voice.” His howling irritated the entire neighborhood, but I thought it possessed a melancholy beauty. I wanted to know why the animal was in such pain.

The sweet night air flowed through the window and straight into my bed. I drank it in and became intoxicated. I would have loved the universe for nothing else than for this alone.

My hearing and sense of smell worked full time during these endless April nights. The desire to look out the screenless window was almost overpowering.

The window was like a porthole in the dark hold of a ship. It drew me irresistibly.

One night I couldn’t bear it any longer. Climbing to the top of the bars, I stretched my arms as far as they would go and found that my hands could just touch the sill. Drunk with success, I managed to haul myself up and perch my upper body on the window ledge.

I peered out into the nocturnal landscape, gazing wonderingly at the dark silhouettes of the mountains, the majestic roofs of the neighboring houses, the phosphorescence of the cherry trees in bloom, the mystery of the dark streets.

I wanted to lean out farther, so that I could see the spot in the side yard where Nishio-san hung the laundry. When I shifted my weight, the inevitable happened.

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