The Notebook + The Proof + The Third Lie (36 page)

"Don't hold it against me. I just can't help cheating."

He sniffles and wipes his nose.

"You know, if I have a son I'll give him your first name."

I tell him, "Give him my brother's name instead, Lucas. That would make me happiest."

He thinks.

"Lucas? That's a nice name. I'll talk it over with my wife. Maybe she won't object. Anyway, it's not up to her. I'm the one who decides in my house."

"I'm sure of it."

A policeman comes to collect me from my cell. My guard and I go out into the courtyard, where there is a well-dressed man with a hat, tie, and umbrella. The stones in the courtyard glisten in the rain.

The man from the embassy says, "A car is waiting for us. I've already taken care of your debts."

He speaks in a language that I shouldn't understand but do anyway. I motion to my guard.

"I owe that man a certain amount. It's a debt of honor."

"How much?"

He pays, takes me by the arm, and leads me to a big black car parked in front of the house. A chauffeur in a visored cap opens the doors.

The car pulls away. I ask the man from the embassy if we can stop for a minute in front of the bookseller's on Central Square, but he just looks at me uncomprehendingly and I realize that I have spoken to him in my old language, the language of this country.

The chauffeur drives quickly; we pass the square, we're already on Station Street, and soon my little town is well behind us.

It's hot in the car. Through the window I watch the villages parade by, the fields and poplars and acacias, my country's landscape beaten by the rain and the wind.

I suddenly turn to the man from the embassy. "This isn't the road to the border. We're going in the opposite direction."

He says, "First we're taking you to the embassy in the capital. You'll cross the border several days from now, by train."

I close my eyes.

The child crosses the frontier.

The man goes first; the child waits. There is an explosion. The child approaches. The man is lying near the second barrier. Then the child makes his move. Walking in the man's footsteps, then over his motionless body, he reaches the other side and hides behind some bushes.

A squad of border guards arrives in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. There is a sergeant and several soldiers. One of them says, "The poor fuck."

Another: "What rotten luck. He almost made it."

The sergeant cries out, "Stop your chatter. We have to collect the body."

The soldiers say:

"What's left of it."

"Why?"

The sergeant says: "Identification. Orders are orders. The body must be retrieved. Any volunteers?"

The soldiers look at one another.

"The land mines. We might not make it."

"So what. It's your duty. Bunch of cowards."

One soldier raises his hand. 'I'llgo."

"Bravo. Go to it, son. The rest of you move back."

The soldier walks slowly up to the shattered body, then breaks into a run. He passes by the child without seeing him.

The sergeant screams: "The bastard! Shoot him! Fire!"

The soldiers do not shoot.

"He's on the other side. We can't shoot over there."

The sergeant raises his rifle. Two foreign border guards appear on the other side. The sergeant lowers his weapon and hands it to a soldier. He walks up to the corpse, hoists it onto his back, returns, and drops it to the ground. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his uniform. "You'll pay for this, you sons of bitches. You're all nothing but a pile of shit."

The soldiers wrap the body in a tarpaulin and put it in the back of their vehicle. They drive off. The two foreign border guards go away too.

The child remains where he is, not moving a muscle. He falls asleep. Early in the morning he is awakened by the singing of birds. He clutches his coat and rubber boots to himself and heads toward the village. He comes across two border guards, who ask him, "Hey, you. Where are you coming from?"

'The other side of the frontier."

"You crossed it? When?"

"Yesterday. With my father. But he fell. He stayed on the ground after the explosion and the soldiers from over there came and took him away."

"Yes, we were there. But we didn't see you. The soldier who deserted didn't see you either." "I hid. I was scared."

"How come you speak our language?"

"I learned it from soldiers during the war. You think they'll make my father better again?"

The guards lower their eyes. "Definitely. Come with us. You must be hungry."

The guards bring the child to the village and ask one of their wives to take care of him.

"Give him something to eat, then bring him to the police station. Tell them that we'll come at eleven to make a report."

The woman is fat and blond, her face red and smiling.

She asks the child, "You like milk and cheese? Lunch isn't ready yet."

"Yes, ma'am, I like everything. I'll eat anything."

The woman serves him.

"No, wait, go wash up first. At least your face and hands. I'llget your clothes nice and clean, but I guess you don't have anything to change into."

"No, ma'am."

'I'll lend you one of my husband's shirts. It'll be too big for you, but that doesn't matter. Just roll up the sleeves. Here's a towel. The bathroom is right there."

The child takes his coat and rubber boots into the bathroom with him. He washes, returns to the kitchen, eats bread and cheese and drinks milk. He says, "Thank you, ma'am."

She says, "You're well brought up and polite. And you speak our language very well. Did your mother stay on the other side?"

"No, she died during the war."

"Poor little thing. Come, we have to go to the commissioner's. Don't be scared, the policeman's nice, he's a friend of my husband's."

At the station she tells the policeman, "Here's the son of the man who tried to cross yesterday. My husband will come by at eleven. I'd be glad to look after the child while they're coming to a decision. Perhaps he'll have to be sent back because he's a minor."

The policeman says, "We'll see. In any case I'll send him back to you for lunch."

The woman leaves and the policeman hands the child a questionnaire.

"Fill it out. If you don't understand any of the questions, ask me."

When the child hands the questionnaire back the policeman reads it out loud: "Full name,
Claus T.
Age eighteen. You're not very big for your age."

"It's because I was ill as a child."

"Do you have an identity card?"

"No, nothing. My father and I burned all our papers before we left."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Something about being caught. My father told me to do it."

"Your father stepped on a land mine. If you'd been walking with him you'd have been blown up too."

"I didn't walk with him. He told me to wait until he was on the other side, then to follow him at a distance."

"Why did you cross in the first place?"

"It was my father who wanted to. They were putting him in prison all the time and watching him. He didn't want to live there anymore. And he took me with him because he didn't want me to be alone."

"Your mother?" "She died in a bombing during the war. Afterward I lived with my grandmother, but she died too."

"So you don't have anyone left over there. No one who will call for you to be returned. Except the authorities, if you committed any crime."

"I haven't committed any crimes."

"Good. All we have to do now is wait for my superiors to decide. For the time being you're not allowed to leave the village. Here. Sign this paper there."

The child signs the statement, in which there are three lies.

The man he crossed the frontier with was not his father.

The child is not eighteen, but fifteen.

His name is not
Claus.

Some weeks later a man from the city comes to the border guard's house. He says to the child, "My name is Peter N. I will take care of you from now on. Here is your identity card. All it needs is your signature."

The child looks at the card. His birthdate has been moved back three years, his first name is
"Claus,"
and his nationality is "None."

The very same day Peter and
Claus
take the bus to the city. Along the way Peter asks questions:

"What did you do before,
Claus?
Were you a student?"

"A student? No. I worked in my garden, tended my animals, played my harmonica in bars, carried travelers' bags for them."

"And what would you like to do in the future?"

"I don't know. Nothing. Why is it so necessary to do anything?"

"One has to make a living."

"That I know. I've always done that. I'm happy to do any sort of work to make a little money." "A little money? Through any sort of work? You could get a scholarship and go to school."

"I don't want to go to school."

"And yet you should, even just a little bit, to learn the language better. You speak it well enough, but you also have to know how to read and write it. You'll live in a youth house with other students. You'll have your own room. You'll take language courses and after that we'll see."

Peter and
Claus
spend the night at a hotel in a big city. In the morning they take a train to a smaller city situated between a forest and a lake. The youth house is on a steep street in the middle of a garden near the center of town.

A couple, the director of the house and his wife, meet them. They bring
Claus
to his room. The window looks out onto the park.

Claus
asks, "Who takes care of the garden?"

The director's wife says, "I do, but the children help out a great deal."

Claus
says, "I'll help you too. Your flowers are very pretty."

The director's wife says, "Thank you,
Claus.
You'll be completely free here, but you have to be back in at eleven every night at the latest. You'll clean your own room. You can borrow a vacuum cleaner from the super."

The director says, "If you have any problems, talk to me."

Peter says, "You'll be comfortable here, won't you,
Claus?"

Claus
is also shown the dining room, the showers, and the common room. He is introduced to the boys and girls there.

Later Peter shows
Claus
the town, then brings him to his house.

"You can find me here if you need me. This is my wife, Clara."

The three of them have lunch together, then spend the afternoon shopping for clothes and shoes.

Claus
says, 'I've never had this many clothes in my life."

Peter smiles. "You can throw away your old coat and boots. You'll be getting some money each month for school expenses and pocket money. If you need anything more, tell me. Your board and tuition are paid for, of course."

Claus
asks, "Who's giving me all this money? You?"

"No, I'm just your tutor. The money comes from the state. Since you have no parents, the state is obligated to take care of you until you're in a position to make a living on your own."

Claus
says, "I hope that will happen as soon as possible."

"In a year you'll decide if you want to go to school or take an apprenticeship."

"I don't want to go to school."

"We'll see, we'll see. Have you no ambition at all,
Claus?"

"Ambition? I don't know. All I want is peace to write."

"To write? What? You want to be a writer?"

"Yes. You don't have to go to school to be a writer. You just have to know how to write without too many mistakes. I want to learn how to write in your language properly, but that's all I need."

Peter says, "Writing is no way to earn a living."

Claus
says, "No, I know. But I can work during the day and quietly write at night. That's what I did at Grandmother's."

"What? You've already written something?"

"Yes. I've filled a couple of notebooks. They're wrapped up in my old coat. When I've learned to write your language, I'll translate them and show them to you."