The Thought Gang by Tibor Fischer

Author:Tibor Fischer [Fischer, T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: [2010.07.04]
Publisher: [Côte d’Azur]
Published: 1993-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Saturday

As far as I can tell, Saturday had the requisite number of seconds and hours. Looking out of the window it appeared that Toulon hadn’t decided to stop existing, which would have solved my problem.

Sunday

Late in the evening, Hube returned from Paris. From his eyes I could see that more than just travel had happened, that there were events seeking buccal escape.

‘Well?’

‘I spent the night with her,’ he confirmed. He had more precisely spent the night under her bed to satisfy his desire to be close to her, to milk her proximity and ‘to breathe her breath’. He had watched her out on duty, and then had broken into her flat to sleep under her. He remained immobile and silent during the nocturnal hours, taking in her shiftings, throatings, lungings. As his zeb dawn infiltrated, he thought how much he wanted to talk to her so he waited until she went to the bathroom, let himself out and then rang her doorbell.

‘We met twelve years ago, and I’m sorry to disturb you, but I can’t stop thinking about you.’

They went and had breakfast.

‘Did she remember you?’

‘No.’

‘Did she know who you were?’

‘I think she did.’

‘Are you going to see her again?’

‘No. Once was enough. They can build-up a picture of a dinosaur from one bone, can’t they? That breakfast was enough for me to know.’ He showed a photograph of them seated at the table. ‘Can you tell how long we’ve known each other?’ It was true, the eyes were on the same line; they glanced as one. ‘We’re all moments. That’s a moment. I can make the memories. That she exists is enough.’

♦

‘Do you take milk with your tea or not?’ said Cecile. That was the only thing she said that wasn’t a complaint. Politeness didn’t cramp her moaning. She had more whine than the Zuluf has oil, though her domestic state was grim. Her thirteen year-old son sat with the patience of someone who knows he only has to wait a few more years before he can join a death squad, and who was eagerly awaiting another opportunity to stub out cigarettes on his seven year-old sister.

(Decile’s invalid mother was upstairs playing computer games. ‘On her sixty-fifth birthday she said to me: ‘I’ve worked hard all my life, I worked hard bringing you up, I worked hard looking after your father, I worked hard looking after the grandchildren; I’ve done more than most, now I’m going to play computer games’.’

Her estranged husband was estranged.

Jocelyne gave me a sorry-but-be-patient glance. I wasn’t bothered, I studied the zebra-wood cabinet. Cecile was perfect.

♦

I shouldn’t have got in the car. But the trouble is, with no specific task to avoid, no chores to shirk, no inkling of ink from the killer opus, why not? I listened to Hube when he said: ‘Let’s go to a football match.’

My interest in football is and has always been zero. I went to a football match for the first and last time when I was twelve and too small to argue successfully against an uncle.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.