The Notebook + The Proof + The Third Lie (15 page)

That evening Lucas makes up a basket of vegetables, potatoes, eggs, cheese. He kills a chicken and cleans it. He also takes milk and a bottle of wine.

He rings the bell of the priest's house. No one answers. He goes in through the unlocked back door and puts the basket down in the kitchen. He knocks on the bedroom door. He goes in.

The priest, a tall, thin, old man, is sitting at his desk. He is playing chess, alone, by the light of a candle.

Lucas pulls up a chair, sits facing the priest, and says, "I'm sorry, Father."

The priest says, "I'll repay you a bit at a time for what I owe you, Lucas."

Lucas asks, "Have I not been here for a long time?"

"Not since the beginning of the summer. Don't you remember?"

"No. Who has been feeding you all this time?"

"Leonie has been bringing me a little soup each day. But she has been ill for the last few days."

Lucas says, "Forgive me, Father."

"Forgive you? For what? I haven't paid you in months. I have no money left. The State has broken links with the Church, and I am no longer paid for my work. I have to live off the donations of my flock. But people stay away from church for fear of disapproval. Only a few poor old women come to mass."

Lucas says, "If I didn't come, it wasn't because of the money you owe me. It's worse than that." "What do you mean, 'worse than that'?"

Lucas lowers his head. "I completely forgot about you. I also forgot about my garden, the market, the milk, the cheese. I even forgot to eat. For months I've been sleeping in the attic. I was afraid to go into my room. It was only because a little girl, Leonie's niece, came today that I had the courage to go in. She also reminded me of my duty toward you."

"You have no duty, no obligation toward me. You sell your produce, you live from the proceeds. If I can't pay you it's right that you not supply me anymore."

"As I said, it's not because of the money. Try to understand."

"Tell me. I'm listening."

"I don't know how to go on living."

The priest gets up, takes Lucas's face in his hands. "What has happened to you, my child?"

Lucas shakes his head. "I can't explain. It's like an illness."

"I see. A sort of illness of the soul. Due to your tender age and, perhaps, your excessive solitude."

Lucas says, "Maybe. I will make a meal and we will eat together. I haven't eaten for a long time, either. When I try to eat, I just vomit. With you I might be able to manage it."

He goes to the kitchen, lights the fire, boils up the chicken with the vegetables. He sets the table, opens a bottle of wine.

The priest comes into the kitchen.

"As I said, Lucas, I can't pay you anymore."

"Nevertheless, you have to eat."

"Yes, but I don't need this banquet. A few potatoes and some corn would be enough."

Lucas says, "You will eat what I bring you, and we won't talk anymore about money." "I can't accept."

"It is easier to give than to receive, is that it? Pride is a sin, Father."

They eat in silence. They drink wine. Lucas doesn't vomit. After the meal he does the washing up. The priest goes back into his room. Lucas joins him.

"I have to go now."

"Where are you going?"

"To walk around the streets."

"I could teach you to play chess."

Lucas says, "I don't think I could get interested. It's a complicated game that requires a lot of concentration."

"Let's try."

The priest explains the rules. They play a game. Lucas wins. The priest asks, "Where did you learn to play chess?"

"From books. But this is the first real game I've played."

"Will you play again sometime?"

Lucas comes every evening. The priest improves his strategies, and the games become interesting, even though Lucas always wins.

Lucas starts sleeping in his bedroom again, on the double bed. He doesn't forget market days, he doesn't let the milk go sour. He takes care of the animals, the garden, the house. He goes back into the forest to collect mushrooms and firewood. He takes up fishing again.

When he was a child, Lucas caught fish by hand or with a rod. Now he invents a system that diverts the fish from the mainstream into a pool where they are trapped. Then Lucas only needs to scoop them out in a net when he wants fresh fish.

In the evenings Lucas eats with the priest, plays a game or two of chess, then walks around the streets of the town.

One night he goes into the first bar he meets on his way. It used to be a well-kept café, even during the war. Now it is a dingy place, almost empty.

An ugly, weary waitress shouts from the counter, "How many?"

"Three."

Lucas sits at a table stained with red wine and cigarette ash. The waitress brings him three glasses of cheap red wine. She collects his money right away.

When he has finished his three glasses, Lucas gets up and leaves. He pushes on as far as the main square. He stops in front of the book and stationery store and stands gazing into the window: school notebooks, pencils, erasers, and a few books.

Lucas goes into the bar opposite.

It is a bit livelier, but it is even dirtier than the other bar. The floor is covered with sawdust.

Lucas sits next to the open door, the only form of ventilation in the place.

A group of border guards are sitting around a long table. They have girls with them. They are singing.

A ragged little old man comes and sits at Lucas's table.

"How about playing something, eh?"

Lucas shouts, "A half bottle and two glasses!"

The little old man says, "I wasn't scrounging a drink, I just wanted you to play. Like before."

"I can't play like before."

"I know. But play anyway. I'd like that."

Lucas pours the wine. "Drink."

He takes his harmonica out of his pocket and starts to play a sad song, a song about love and separation.

The border guards and the girls take up the tune. One of the girls comes and sits next to Lucas; she strokes his hair.

"Isn't he cute?"

Lucas stops playing. He gets up.

The girl laughs. "Touchy!"

Outside it is raining. Lucas goes into a third bar, orders another three glasses. When he starts playing, the customers' eyes turn to him, then back to their drinks. People come here to drink, not talk.

Suddenly, a large, well-built man, with one leg amputated, plants himself on his crutches in the middle of the room beneath the single bare light bulb and begins to sing a forbidden song.

Lucas accompanies him on the harmonica.

The other customers drink up quickly, and one after another leave the bar.

Tears run down the man's cheeks as he sings the last two lines of the song:

The people have already atoned

For the past and the future.

The next day Lucas goes to the book and stationery shop. He picks out three pencils, a pack of lined paper, and a thick notebook. When he comes to the cash register, the bookseller, a pale, obese man, says to him, "I haven't seen you for a long time. Have you been away?"

"No. I was just too busy."

"Your consumption of paper is most impressive. I sometimes wonder what it is you do with it."

Lucas says, "I like filling up blank sheets with pencil. It passes the time."

"You must have a mountain of them by now."

"I waste a lot. I use the spoiled pages to light the fire."

The bookseller says, "Unfortunately my other customers aren't as regular as you. Business is poor. Before the war, things were good. There were lots of schools around here. High schools, boarding schools, secondary schools. The students wandered through the streets in the evening having fun. There was also a musical conservatory, concerts and plays every week. Look out there now. Nothing but children and old people. A few workers, a few winegrowers. There are no more young people in this town. The schools have been moved to the interior of the country, all except the primary school. The young people, even those who aren't studying, move away, to towns that have some life. Our town is dead, empty. The border zone, sealed off, forgotten. Everyone knows everyone else in this town. Always the same faces. No outsiders can get in."

Lucas says, "There are the border guards. They're young."

"Yes, poor fellows. Locked away in their barracks, on patrol at night. Every six months they change them to keep them from forming contacts with the townspeople. This town has ten thousand inhabitants, plus three thousand foreign soldiers and two thousand of our own border guards. Before the war there were five thousand students, and tourists during the summer. The tourists came from the interior as well as from across the border."

Lucas asks, "The border was open?"

"Of course. The farmers from over there came to sell their produce here, the students went to the other side for village fairs. The train used to run to the next big town in the other country.

Now this town is the end of the line. Everybody off! And show your papers!"

Lucas asks, "You could come and go freely? You could travel abroad?"

"Of course. You've never known what that's like. Now you can't take a step without having to show your identity card. And the special permit for the border zone."

"What if you haven't got one?"

"It's better to have one."

"I haven't got one."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"You should have one. Even children get an identity card at school. What do you do when you leave town and then come back?"

"I never leave town."

"Never? You don't even go to the next town when you need to buy something you can't find here?"

"No. I haven't left this town since my mother brought me here six years ago."

The bookseller says, "If you want to avoid trouble, get yourself an identity card. Go to the town hall and explain your case. If anyone gives you trouble, ask for Peter N. Tell him Victor sent you. Peter comes from the same town as me. Up north. He has an important position in the Party."

Lucas says, "That's kind of you. But why should I have problems getting an identity card?"

"You never know."

***

Lucas goes into a large building near the castle. Flags hang from the facade. Numerous black plaques with gold lettering indicate the offices:

POLITICAL BUREAU OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY

SECRETARIAT OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY

ASSOCIATION OF REVOLUTIONARY YOUTH

ASSOCIATION OF REVOLUTIONARY WOMEN

FEDERATION OF REVOLUTIONARY TRADE UNIONS

Through the door a simple gray plaque with red letters:

COUNCIL INQUIRIES SECOND FLOOR

Lucas goes up to the second floor, knocks on a frosted window above which is written: "Identity cards."

A man in gray overalls opens the sliding window and looks at Lucas without speaking.

Lucas says, "Hello. I'd like to apply for an identity card."

"Renew, you mean. Your present one's expired?"

"No, I don't have one. I've never had one. Someone told me I'm supposed to have one."

The official asks, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Then you are supposed to have one. Give me your school card."

Lucas says, "I haven't got a card. Of any kind."

The official says, "That's not possible. If you are still at primary school you have your school card; if you are a student you have your student card; if you are an apprentice you have your apprenticeship card."

Lucas says, "I'm sorry. I haven't got any of those. I never went to school."

"How come? School is compulsory up to the age of fourteen."

"I was excused from school because of a psychological disorder."

"So what are you doing now?"

"I live off the produce from my garden. I also play music in bars at night."

The official says, "Ah, it's you. Lucas T., is that your name?"

"Yes."

"Who do you live with?"

"I live in Grandmother's house near the border. I live alone. Grandmother died last year."

The official scratches his head. "Listen, you're a special case. I'll have to check on this. I can't decide this on my own. You'll have to come back in a few days."

Lucas says, "Peter N. might be able to straighten it out."

"Peter N.? The Party Secretary? You know him?" He picks up the telephone.

Lucas tells him, "I was recommended by Victor."

The official hangs up and comes out of his office.

"Come on. We're going downstairs."

He knocks on a door marked
SECRETARIAT OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY
. They go in. A young man is sitting behind a desk. The official hands him a blank card.

"It's about an identity card."

"I'll take care of it. Leave us."

The official leaves. The young man gets up and offers his hand to Lucas.

"Hello, Lucas."

"You know me?" "Everyone in town knows you. I'm very pleased to be of service to you. Let's fill in your card. Last name, first name, address, date of birth. You're only fifteen? You're big for your age. Occupation? Shall I write 'musician'?"

Lucas says, "I also live off the produce from my garden."

"Then I'll write 'gardener.' It looks more responsible. Now let's see, brown hair, gray eyes . . . political allegiance?"

Lucas says, "Cross that out."

"All right. And here, what do you want me to write here— 'Official assessment'?"

" 'Idiot,' if possible. I suffered a traumatic disorder. I'm not quite normal."

The young man laughs. "Not quite normal? Who would believe it? But you're right. An assessment like that could spare you a lot of inconvenience. Military service, for example. I'll write 'chronic psychological problems.' Does that suit you?"

Lucas says, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Call me Peter."

Lucas says, "Thank you, Peter."

Peter comes close to Lucas and hands him his card. With his other hand he gently touches Lucas's face. Lucas closes his eyes. Peter kisses him lingeringly on the mouth, holding Lucas's head in his hands. He stays looking at Lucas's face for a moment, then he sits down at his desk.