The History of Love: A Novel by Nicole Krauss

Author:Nicole Krauss [Krauss, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Norton
Published: 2011-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

I SAT HUNCHED over The Incredible, Fantastic Adventures of Frankie, Toothless Girl Wonder by a Leopold Gursky who wasn’t me. I didn’t open the cover. I listened to the rain running through the roof gutters.

I left the library. Crossing the street, I was hit head-on by a brutal loneliness. I felt dark and hollow. Abandoned, unnoticed, forgotten, I stood on the sidewalk, a nothing, a gatherer of dust. People hurried past me. And everyone who walked by was happier than I. I felt the old envy. I would have given anything to be one of them.

There was a woman I once knew. She was locked out and I helped her. She saw one of my cards, I used to scatter them behind me like bread crumbs. She called, and I got there as fast as I could. It was Thanksgiving, and no one had to say that neither of us had anyplace to go. The lock sprung open under my touch. Maybe she thought it was the sign of a different kind of talent. Inside, a lingering smell of fried onions, a poster of Matisse, or maybe Monet. No! Modigliani. I remember now because it was a naked woman, and to flatter her I said: Is it you? It had been a long time since I’d been with a woman. I could smell the grease on my hands, and the smell of my armpits. She invited me to sit down and cooked us a meal. I excused myself to comb my hair and try to wash myself in the bathroom. When I came out she was standing in her underwear in the dark. There was a neon sign across the street, and it cast a blue shadow on her legs. I wanted to tell her that it was OK if she didn’t want to look at my face.

A few months later, she called me again. She asked me to make a copy of her key. I was happy for her. That she wouldn’t be alone anymore. It’s not that I felt sorry for myself. But I wanted to say to her, It would be easier if you just asked him, the one who the key is for, to take it to the hardware store. And yet. I made two copies. One I gave to her, and one I kept. For a long time I carried it in my pocket, just to pretend.

One day it struck me that I could let myself in anywhere. I’d never thought about it before. I was an immigrant, it took a long time to get over the fear that they’d send me back. I lived in fear of making a mistake. Once I missed six trains because I couldn’t figure out how to ask for a ticket. Another man might have just got on board. But. Not a Jew from Poland who’s afraid that if he even so much as forgets to flush the toilet he’ll get deported. I tried to keep my head down. I locked and unlocked and that’s what I did.

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