Adam and Evelyn (5 page)

“Let me out!” Adam cried. Evelyn tried to say something more, but several strands of hair got blown across her mouth.

“Adam,” she said, now that they were standing face-to-face, “what you’re up to is not funny.”

“And what am I supposed to be up to?”

“Nothing. Zilch. Hasn’t it got through that thick skull of yours, what happened yesterday, what you did?”

“I love you.”

“You’ve thought of that too late.”

“I want us to be together.”

“And I don’t!” Evelyn let Adam maneuver her to the front of the car, so that she wasn’t standing in the road.

“And you’re going to leave me alone now, got it? Besides which it’s cruelty to animals. Drafts can be fatal for her.”

Evelyn looped her hair into a knot as she tried to talk above the noise of passing traffic. It was all Adam could do not to reach out an arm and pull her to him.

“We can vacation together, the four of us, those two and—”

“Leave me alone! That’s all I want from you.”

“Are the sandals another one of his presents?”

Evelyn let out a screech. “That’s none of your damn business!”

“Have you taken up smoking again?”

“None of your business!” She snapped her fingers. “Not this much.” She bungled the second snap.

She ran ahead to the Passat.

“You’re crushing the hat!”

Evelyn waved him off without even turning around. The knot in her hair came undone.

“It’s pointless, pointless!” he heard her say as she got into the car.

She slammed the door, the Passat sped away. The distance between the two cars grew rapidly. But, much to his satisfaction, he still managed to catch sight of the straw hat vanishing from the back window.

ADAM SMILED
—Michael was obeying the speed limit. They drove through Meerane, where one row of buildings always reminded him of his toy train set. Adam was startled when the Passat signaled a turn. They were turning onto the autobahn in the direction of Karl-Marx-Stadt. The autobahn was the riverbed where he was supposed to lose the trail. But what difference did it make if they shook him off here or in Czechoslovakia. Even if they spent the cousin’s Westmarks to stay somewhere else on Lake Balaton, rather than with Pepi’s family, he would find them. And that was what it was all about. And at some point Evelyn would realize just how serious he was.

He almost lost control on the curve of the on ramp. Then he had to yield to a long caravan of cars. But just a few kilometers beyond Glauchau he again caught sight of the red Passat up ahead, doing barely a hundred. Adam even passed it. At first he thought he would pretend not to notice, but then turned his head and waved. Michael smiled, the women were back to talking—and smoking.

He floored it as they started uphill. Once they had the long grade behind them and were on the other side of Karl-Marx-Stadt, Adam picked up speed. The red Passat did the same. Adam suddenly let up on the throttle and looked in the rearview mirror, ready to take the exit at the last moment along with the Passat.

Approaching Dresden, Michael signaled well before the Wilsdruff
gas station. Adam threaded into the lane on the right, the Passat took the one to the left, so that Evelyn got out right beside him. She disappeared together with Simone.

Adam turned off his engine and opened the door. It was hardly worth it for him to get gas, but who knew if these couple of extra liters might not come in handy.

“We’ve met before,” Michael called. He had leaned across the passenger seat and thrust a hand toward the open window. “Michael, Mona’s cousin.”

“I know,” Adam said and took two steps in his direction. “Hello.” Talking with men from the West, even if they were older than he was, always made Adam feel uncomfortable.

“We’ve got quite some drive ahead of us!” Michael shouted.

“You can say that again.” Adam looked at Michael’s hand, the fingertips resting on the rolled-down window. The brown splotches on the index and middle fingers formed an oval. A man with nicotine stains like that was out of the question for Evelyn.

“See you later,” Michael said.

“Where you headed?”

“Dresden, main station, Mona knows the way. I can’t very well chauffeur two women over the border in my Passat.”

“Well then,” Adam said and, making sure it was in neutral, pushed his Wartburg ahead. When the women returned he noticed goose bumps on Evelyn’s forearms.

Adam stayed calm and cool when the Passat pulled out first.

He let the car coast down into the Elbe Valley. He gazed across to Dresden’s steeples, the Rathaus tower, as well as the television tower on the ridge of hills farther up the river, where it turned so hazy you could only surmise the rocky plateaus to the right and left that marked the river’s entrance into the Elbe Sandstone Mountains.

Adam decided to take the first exit, followed the direction signs, and got lost. Not until the minaret of the old tobacco factory rose up before him did he know where he was again.

He found a parking space on the square in front of the station. He left a window cracked and slipped his camera into his shoulder bag. He couldn’t spot a red Passat anywhere.

The Pannonia, leaving for Sofia via Budapest, was scheduled for a little past three, in about half an hour. The Metropol, ending in Budapest, didn’t depart until seven thirty in the evening. He traced his finger down the columns of the schedule—he hadn’t missed any.

Adam lined up at the wurst stand. The three of them would probably make an afternoon of it in Dresden and not leave till evening, since if they took the Pannonia they would arrive in the middle of the night. It annoyed him that they had got such a late start. You could drive to Lake Balaton in one day. He decided to drive on alone and wait for Evelyn at Pepi’s—who wasn’t just her friend after all.

Adam asked for two bockwursts, collected his change from the saucer, hung his pack around his neck, and was just about to pick up his wurst and buns from the counter, and there were the three of them hurrying past—Evelyn with the hat, the green tent-bag under her arm, her heels click-clacking. Michael was carrying her suitcase on his shoulder, something Adam had seen only in old movies. Simone slid across the tiles in her sandals. They made for the upper-level platform at the south end of the station and started straight up the first set of stairs. Prague, departure 14:39. Why hadn’t he thought of Prague?

He passed an elderly man panting up the stairs, who suddenly stopped, bent over, his two suitcases set at an angle to the steps. For a moment it looked as if he would lose his balance. With one bun crammed in his mouth, the other pressed to the cardboard tray of wursts, Adam picked up one of the suitcases and carried it to the top. The man dragged the other one up with both hands. No sooner were they at the top than Adam heard the departure whistle. He threw open a door of the nearest car, heaved one suitcase in, then the other, helped the man in the gray suit up, and slammed the door behind him. Adam extracted the bun from his mouth, the train pulled out, the man’s hands were moving behind the window.

Michael was coming toward him. He was twirling Evelyn’s straw hat on his raised index finger. Adam waited for Michael to recognize him.

“Want one?” Michael shook his head, but then reached out his hand at last. He took the second bun too.

They sat down on a bench. Adam held the cardboard rectangle in his hand like an ashtray, although Michael didn’t dip his wurst in the mustard unless Adam gestured for him to do so.

“Where you headed now?”

“We’re going to meet in Prague.”

“By way of Zinnwald?”

“Mona thinks Bad Schandau is better.”

“Everybody goes the Elbe route.”

“I don’t know the roads,” Michael said.

“Didn’t she want her hat?”

“Oh sure.”

“Probably afraid she’d lose it, was that it?”

“Hm. You think Zinnwald is better?”

Adam nodded, dragged the tip of his wurst through the last of the mustard, and stuffed the tray into the overflowing litter basket.

In the main concourse Adam stopped in front of a schedule.

“At the base of the statue of Wenceslas on his horse, every hour on the hour,” Michael said.

They left Dresden heading south. As they waited at one of the last stoplights, Adam hastily filled the white thermos cup with coffee and drank it down. As if on order, the taste of vacation returned, and Adam could in fact think of nothing he would rather be doing than sitting behind the wheel of his car, on his way to Lake Balaton. His only worry was Elfi.

BETWEEN ALTENBERG
and Zinnwald, where serpentine curves wound toward the ridge of the eastern Ore Mountains, Adam drove off at a rest stop. Two men were hunkered down at a table, one of whom Adam first took to be his garageman, because he was staring directly at him as if he recognized him.

Michael followed Adam into the woods. They stood side by side as they peed down the slope. From down below came a foul odor.

“I’ve still got one of Evelyn’s bags with me,” Michael said, not turning his head.

“That’s not a good idea.”

“You think?”

“Yep.”

“So what should I do?”

“It may be too late to do anything.”

“You think they may be taking pictures?”

“Those two guys are on discipline detail, they have to picnic here day after day.”

“Merde,” Michael said.

Returning from his car, Adam set the thermos and his bag of provisions on the wooden table. It was sticky, with a layer of dust and insects. The two men had retreated to their white Lada.

“It’d be better if you’d join the picnic,” Adam whispered as he unscrewed the thermos.

Michael laid a bag on the bench and put Evelyn’s straw hat over it. “She had it in her suitcase.”

A gust of wind rustled through the pines and firs, the tips of the needles were brown and bare.

“Damn, it stinks,” Adam said.

Michael pulled an unfiltered cigarette from the pack with his lips and flipped open a silver lighter. The flame was way too high again.

“Is that coffee?” Michael blew his smoke above Adam’s head.

“Want some?”

“Real coffee?” Michael sniffed at the thermos bottle.

“It’s good,” Adam said. Michael cautiously took the cup and sipped.

“That was a stupid move on Evi’s part. They’re sure to search it.”

“Mona said they wouldn’t be interested in me because they’re more concerned about you folks. I have no idea what to expect.”

“I spotted those two guys too late, I shouldn’t have stopped here.”

“And what do I say if they find the bag?”

“A hitchhiker’s. She forgot it.”

“I don’t know if we’re allowed to do that.”

“What?”

“Pick up hitchhikers.”

“So what. Did you look inside?”

Michael shook his head and passed the cup back.

“It’s the genuine article.”

Adam poured another cup.

“Thanks, that’ll hold me till tomorrow.”

“There’s plenty.”

With the cigarette still between his lips, Michael set his hands to his hips and moved his upper body in circles. Then he laid his hands on his shoulders and rotated his arms. The Lada with the two men drove
past them, heading toward the border. Finally Michael stretched his arms straight ahead as if for swimming practice. His fingers trembled.

“Surely you don’t think you’re the trafficker type, do you?”

“I smoke too much.”

“Whatever you do it’s the wrong thing,” Adam said, putting on Evelyn’s hat. He picked up Evelyn’s gym bag—it was light as a feather—and stuffed it behind the driver’s seat.

“Don’t you want to look inside?”

“Evi wouldn’t like that.”

“Got it.”

“Did she say anything? About me, I mean?”

“Just to Mona.”

“And?”

“That there was some other woman, you and—”

“I’d designed a suit for her. And it was so damn hot—Evi went off the deep end.”

Michael nodded. “But what if they do a search?”

Adam shrugged. “Don’t think about it. They’re like animals. They can smell your fear, they’ve got great noses for fear.”

“Killer instinct, huh?” Michael asked.

“Where are you three headed?”

“For the Plattensee—wait—Lake Balaton, that’s what you guys call it. I promised Mona.”

“Let’s meet at the first rest stop across the border,” Adam said.

“And if you don’t get through?”

“Then I’ll take off for Warnemünde.”

“And Evi’s bag?”

“You’ll be able to see what happens. And remember, you are a free man and visiting the homelands of the proletariat, your natural allies. And don’t drive over sixty in towns or ninety on the highway.”

Adam took out the box with the turtle, opened the trunk, and put it back there. “Sorry, Elfi.” He closed the lid. “We need to move out!” he shouted, and pointed back down the road.

A container truck was creeping around the curve, a long line of cars behind it.

At the border station he pulled up behind the white Lada with the two men and Dresden plates. He turned off his engine, got out, and lit a cigar. With his back to the driver’s door, he closed his eyes. It was definitely cooler up here.

Whenever the line moved, Adam just released the hand brake and pushed his car in the direction of the border, the red Passat behind him. He noticed too late that it was two women who were checking his lane.

HER BLOND CURLS
springing out from under her cap, she leafed through his papers. Despite the short olive-green skirt of her uniform, which showed off her beautiful legs, she seemed stiff and unsure of herself.

“Are you traveling to the Hungarian People’s Republic?”

“I originally intended to, but it turns out my vacation time is too short. The car’s been having serious problems. I didn’t want to risk going too far with it anymore. So now I’m on my way to Czech paradise, to hike and so on.”

The brunette with permed hair circled the car, her polished fingernails gave the hood a quick drum. “Customs control,” she said, and accepted his opened papers from the blonde.