Beyond the Station Lies the Sea (7 page)

“Quiet, Brutus!” calls out a woman's voice inside the house. “No! Get back!”

Impossible, thinks Cosmos. It can't be. But it is . . . it's the voice of the Queen!

And then the door opens. . . .

There she is, all in light blue, standing there with the fine string of pearls around her neck. The Queen!

The Queen of Caracas!

And next to her stands a tiny white dog with a light-blue ribbon tied around its neck. It wags its tail and jumps up at Cosmos, licking his hand.

“Phooey, Brutus!” the Queen says sternly, smiling at Cosmos.

“That's a big name for such a little dog,” says Cosmos, grinning foolishly. His sense of relief is painfully obvious.

“Depends on your point of view,” says the Queen. “Your name's not much smaller, after all! But come on in.”

The Queen takes a couple steps forward and looks around.

“Where's the little one?” she asks. She's no longer smiling and her voice is as cold as steel. “You tell me right now, where's the little one?”

“That's why I'm here,” stutters Cosmos. “I gotta . . . I need . . . I need your help!”

So Joseph was right after all, thinks the Queen. The lad's not going to make it. It was a mistake to buy that guardian angel. I never should have done it! And now there's a problem.

“What happened?” she demands. “Why didn't you look after him? You swore to me.”

“Yes, but Niner's sick. He collapsed . . . down by the riverbank. He's got a fever and he's gone all weak . . . I can't
manage it by myself . . . he needs a bed. It's urgent, and he needs medicine too,” stammers Cosmos.

The Queen is terrified.

“Is it that bad?” she asks.

“Worse,” says Cosmos.

“Then take me to him!”

 

COSMOS TAKES THE LEAD in his red baseball cap. The little white dog named Brutus scurries along beside him, and the Queen brings up the rear. Her heels clatter loudly in the silent night.

When they reach the embankment, they come to a stop and the Queen takes her shoes off. She can't climb with those clattering heels.

I have to tell her now, thinks Cosmos. I promised.

He clears his throat.

“There's something else, Queen. The boy, he's been talking in his fever. Raving like, so I didn't get most of it, but there's one thing he said quite often and clearly: ‘guardian angel!' And so I promised him I would give you the money back and bring his angel back again. . . .”

“That's okay, Cosmos,” says the Queen. “You'll get the angel back. He only helps his rightful owner anyway. So he's got to stay with the person he belongs to. That's the way it is
with guardian angels. I never should have taken him. But it's okay. Niner will get him back.”

“But,” Cosmos says, hesitating. “There's another problem, too.”

“And what would that be?”

“I ain't got it all. I had to spend some of that money.”

Cosmos breaks off, not daring to look the Queen in the face.

The little white dog has sat down and looks at Cosmos with its head cocked.

The Queen is silent. She can't say anything because her eyes are filling with tears.

“I'm sorry about the money,” says Cosmos after a while.

“Forget about it,” answers the Queen. “Now take me to Niner. He needs his guardian angel. And as for the rest of it . . . we'll take care of that later.”

The driftwood fire burns bright and high, lighting up the riverbank. Bald Pete lies snoozing on the retaining wall.

The others are sitting in a circle around Niner as the Queen approaches.

“Niner! Niner! Look who I brought along!” calls Cosmos.

But Niner doesn't answer. He stares up at the sky, his eyes glazed over with fever. His breathing is labored.

“We've tried everything,” says Red Elsa.

Harmonica Johnny took off his sweater to cushion the little one's head, and Buddy Sloop stood in front of him, making funny faces and even taking out his glass eye and tossing it in the air in an attempt to make Niner laugh.

“But Niner never laughed,” says Red Elsa.

“I put compresses on his legs. That was right, wasn't it, Madam Queen?”

“And I played harmonica for him. Music heals all wounds, not compresses,” growls Johnny.

“You can't possibly believe that!” says Buddy Sloop. “Your playing's so out of tune, it'll sooner make you sick. It's laughter, isn't that right Queen? Laughter is always the best medicine.”

But the Queen isn't listening. She simply pushes Buddy Sloop and Harmonica Johnny to the side and kneels down before Niner. She bends over him, puts her cool hand on his forehead, and draws it back, startled.

“He needs a doctor,” says the Queen of Caracas. “This doesn't look good at all.”

But Cosmos shakes his head.

“He needs his angel! The angel first!”

“Can you hear me, Niner?” asks the Queen.

At that, Niner turns his head, looks at her with his feverish eyes, and nods.

“I've brought your angel back, Niner,” says the Queen.
“It was a mistake to buy him. I'm sorry! He belongs to you. And now he'll look out for you again.”

At which point Niner smiles and whispers, “Now I can go to the sea.”

And then he closes his eyes.

 

IT IS A VERY strange procession that makes its way up the quiet street by the mansions in the middle of the night. At the head walks the Queen of Caracas, with no shoes on and her stockings torn. She's carrying the little boy they call Niner. And he's put his arms around her and buried his face in the hollow of her neck.

Right behind the Queen walks Cosmos, who's got the name of a seaman, but doesn't look at all like a sailor with his red baseball cap and the Queen's light-blue shoes in his hand. And next to Cosmos scurries Brutus, the little white dog with the ribbon around his neck. He doesn't leave Cosmos's side for a moment.

Harmonica Johnny and Red Elsa follow at a respectful distance.

“Look, Johnny, the Queen's got no shoes on,” whispers Red Elsa reverently. “D'you see that, Johnny? She's just as barefoot as me!”

Behind them is Buddy Sloop with the glass eye. He
walks a bit unsteady and bowlegged, like someone who's always drinking cheap wine and never has enough to eat.

And behind Buddy Sloop staggers Bald Pete. Every now and then, he hangs onto a lamppost and mumbles and rails to himself, as though everything were the same as always. But he follows, for he needs his people and simply can't imagine staying down by the river alone.

As the wrought-iron gate opens soundlessly, Buddy Sloop and Johnny and Elsa and Bald Pete come to a stop, as if there were a secret borderline beyond which they didn't dare to cross.

But the Queen notices and says:

“Come inside, you're all invited. You all helped, after all.”

At that, Buddy Sloop takes his hat in his hand, Harmonica Johnny grabs his harp, and even Bald Pete quits his mumbling and appears to grasp that things like this don't happen every day.

“And she's barefoot just like me,” Red Elsa says again, the fine white gravel crunching under her step.

Inside the house, it's completely still.

Everything is clean and white, and the thick rugs are as soft as clouds. Even Cosmos shrinks a little, pulls his head down between his shoulders and attempts to make himself as invisible as possible.

A fire crackles in the open fireplace. A real log fire, not with driftwood. On the walls hang large paintings with houses by the sea and orange sunsets. And in one picture, Cosmos sees his stand on the beach. Only the name on the sign isn't right. It says “Daisy's.”

You're out of your element here, says a voice in his head. Be careful! You've never had practice walking on clouds. Watch that you don't fall off!

“Have a seat there,” says the Queen, pointing to a couch by the fireplace. “I'll be right back.”

Then she goes out with Niner.

“Holy crap,” murmurs Buddy Sloop. “Holy crap.”

“And she's barefoot like me,” says Red Elsa.

Harmonica Johnny and Bald Pete are speechless.

Cosmos sits stiffly on the edge of the couch and pets the little white dog, which has jumped up into his lap.

The fire crackles and they can hear the Queen talking on the telephone in the next room. Then it's quiet for a long time.

 

“SO,” SAYS THE QUEEN. “The doctor was just here. The boy needs rest, but he will recover. And as for you, I must say, you took good care of him. I'd like to thank you. I won't give you any money for it, but every one of you gets to make a wish.”

“A wish?” Red Elsa becomes quite excited. “I already have one: As long as I can remember, I've always wanted red shoes to dance in.”

The Queen nods.

“And you?” she asks.

Harmonica Johnny hesitates. “Well . . . I wish . . . I need . . . a new harmonica would be good. With two sides . . . if you know what I mean!”

The Queen nods.

“Now your turn, Buddy Sloop!”

“Going sailing,” says Buddy Sloop. “Just once . . . with the fishermen. I've dreamed about it forever, but they won't take me.”

“No problem,” says the Queen. “And you, Bald Pete?”

“Free booze at the Caracas, with all the extras.”

The Queen swallows hard and raises her eyebrows.

“All right,” she sighs. “But no trouble! You got it?”

Bald Pete beams.

And me? thinks Cosmos. What about me?

He thinks about the money still hidden under his shirt.

“You wait,” says the Queen to Cosmos, and walks the others to the door.

When she comes back, Cosmos has abandoned all hope. Silently, he lays the money down on the table and stands up.

“Sit down!” orders the Queen. “You still want to go to the sea?”

Cosmos nods.

“What do you intend to do there?”

Cosmos points to the big painting.

“A stand like that. Cosmos's Cold Drinks. But only with Niner! He's my partner, after all.”

The Queen smiles.

“Forget your partner. He's still too young. He needs his mother, not a drink stand. And he's still got a lot to learn. The boy's got to go to school. With or without an angel, he'd never make it.”

“But . . .” says Cosmos, “he wants to go to the sea.”

“And he will,” counters the Queen. “He'll come and visit you in the summer, when school's out. He'll come to your stand and drink some juice.”

“But I haven't got a stand. That was all just a dream. I'll never make it alone,” says Cosmos.

“You're right,” says the Queen. “You'll never make it alone.”

She pauses.

“But what if
I
were your partner? A stand on the beach like that is well worth the investment. People are thirsty when the sun is out. It's a solid business. And I'll certainly
need someone to sell the drinks. You understand, I couldn't do that myself.”

Cosmos is dizzy. He jumps up, sits down again, and then jumps up once more. And the little dog named Brutus springs up and down along with him.

The Queen of Caracas holds out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Cosmos shakes on it.

“Deal,” he cries. “Absolutely!”

 

THERE ARE GOOD DAYS, too.

On the good days, Cosmos and Niner sit on a dune, facing the sea. They feed the gulls. The great big waves are crested with foam. And the air tastes salty and the sky is blue and behind them, where the sky and the sea meet on the horizon, the sun sets, falling into the water like a huge glowing orange. And down below, on the beach, a little white dog is barking at the waves. His name is Brutus and he has a blue ribbon tied around his neck.

Sometimes we just gotta get away.
Anywhere it's summer.
To the south . . . maybe.
To the sea . . . maybe.
Off we go and it smells like sun and wind.
Off we go and it smells like fish and tar and brine.
Off we go and the swallows are seagulls.
We turn the corner.
There's the station.
And beyond the station,
We know for sure,
Beyond the station lies the sea.

Acknowledgments

NO BOOK WRITES ITSELF. And that's why I would like to thank everyone who helped turn the notion of the guardian angel into a book.

I would especially like to thank two theater people from Munich, George Podt and Dagmar Schmidt, who gave me a roof over my head and a home for my thoughts for an entire summer; my editor Uwe-Michael Gutzschahn, who has always trusted in my storytelling; and not least, my first reader, Herbert Jansen, who always wanted to know what happened next and so wrung it out of me page by page.

 

Westerwinkel, March 2001

About the Author and Translator