Hello, friends, sorry for the delay in handing over a translated chapter of my fic. Forgive the many mistakes, I hope it is understandable. It took so long because I moved to another city and recently started a new job. I am lack of time, but I intend to write an unpublished chapter of "The Labyrinth", in Portuguese, soon! Thank you for continuing leaving comments, it encourages me not to give up writing. Leave a review and let me know what you thinking. Thank you and hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 13:
I remain sitting in the dining room, with the radio on in any season, unwilling to go to my room. Discouragement struck and prevents me even finish my glass of wine, which was half after our discussion. Still resonates in my mind the harsh accusation she made me.
...You made me lose a part of the hearing in my left ear...
Despite knowing that she is only a Jewish liar, disguised and feigned, this time I believe in her words.
I have caused permanent damage in her, a physical and emotional scar much bigger than I ever thought I could have done. And who is to blame? A part of me put the blame in that damn blue dress... Another part, that still thinks, really think it´s all her fault for wanting to seduce me, tease me and pretend innocent... If I am so miserably vulnerable now it´s because of her... blame her all for making me feel...
What she said churned my guts, bothered me, I never felt this uncomfortable feeling before, ever. I don´t regret anything I've done in my life, I am not the type that carries remorse, live well with all my ghosts, but, strangely, isn´t how I feel to know how much I hurt her. Know that I hurt her with such intensity and with such disastrous consequences disturbs my mind and my spirit. I don´t carry remorse, I don´t feel, I... Well, what the hell, what is my fault if that bitch did witchcraft in past time? If she knows how to undo the spell, so please, unmake this, so stop both suffering! And now, with her here in my house, I feel there is no return. I started it and I intend to take until the end. And I know that this may not end well for me, for her, or for both...
Also, I'm very angry with myself for having slapped on her face. It was definitely not what I had planned for this dinner. I thought it might be much more enjoyable. After all, we started so well... Seeing her eating with such ease, with such eagerness had left me excited in a very intense way. I was excited and hit her was definitely not what I had planned for tonight. I wanted to show me as the new man I am now, posh, millionaire, refined and actually much more erudite than I was in Plaszow times. I wanted her to feel my success, admired my house, I wanted to know the rest of my house, maybe she even wanted to know my room... If I hadn´t beaten her, she'd probably still be here, maybe give me more confidence... We could be talking in a more friendly way, but...
Was in other times it wouldn´t have bothered me as much as bother me now. But is she getting on my nerves, annoying me more than I could imagine... She´s leaving me a nice headache! Before, when she was just a girl with a maid's uniform, she was quiet, servile, frightened. Not now... not cooperate, doesn´t strive to improve, doesn´t make any effort to please me, is sulking and pouting, like an opera diva, a spoiled princess in a castle... Whoever that bitch think what is? Need I remind her who she really is?
... A mangy dog or worse...
How she irritated me talking about her in that way. As if I didn´t know how inferior she is. She didn´t need remind me how unworthy of me she is, how much I had to get down on my principles to live in that web entangled by her, this macabre spell that doesn´t fall apart, however much time has passed. Apparently, we will be forever linked...
- Herr Prauchner, another glass of wine?
I take a fright at this sudden interruption of my reverie. Look away from the table and face Frau Künzel staring at me. I make a slight gesture with my hands, so she remove the glass and the bottle in front of me. I don´t want to drink, I don´t want to talk, I want sitting here with my thoughts. No, I definitely have no desire to get drunk.
- Leave the glass and the bottle. And please, when you finish whatever you're doing, get out and leave me alone.
- Yes sir. - She says, with solicitude. Seeing Frau Künzel out, I gather a remnant of mood and ask.
- She's already in her room?
- Yes, my daughter left her there... She should be asleep by now.
- She tried to talk to your daughter?
- Yes, she tried, but don´t worry, Ilse know exactly how to behave with Frau Horowitz.
When the old housekeeper gives me back, I decided to call her again.
- Frau Künzel?
- Yes, sir?
- Forget what I said. Let the glass and the bottle in the kitchen and come back... Please!
- Yes sir.
I don´t know why I said this to the old maid, I don´t even like this woman. In fact, I think I'm a little afraid to be alone. I have a certain fear of some thoughts that invade me. I don´t like that old woman, but she's who's around that time. Unfortunately, I cannot rely on friends to share my pain and I need to keep with me the few people who really strive to understand me. I do this as a matter of trust and survival instinct. I don´t want to be disturbed, but at the same time, I don´t want to or cannot be alone. Who knows if I hear the opinion from other women can better understand her head... Maybe I can make some progress...
The radio starts playing a very popular american song 1. Certainly sung by one of those groups, full of black people, so fashionable today... I realize this because the tone they singing is unmistakable. Vienna´s radios are too liberal, playing all kinds of music. Were at any other time, I´d have switched the station or turn off the radio, but this time I'm too tired to keep up my ears free of this degenerate music and let the song fill the room. Interestingly, I pay attention in lyrics and I identify myself with that black guy is singing.
Oh yes, I'm the great pretender
Pretending that I'm doing well
My need is such; I pretend too much
I'm lonely but no one can tell.
At that moment, Frau Künzel enters the room. To my surprise (and certainly for her too) I get up from the table, extend my hand and make her an unusual invitation.
- Frau Künzel, you give me the honour of this dance?
- I... Huh... I mean... If you wish so...
I take Frau Künzel in my arms and began to dance slowly and quietly.
Oh yes, I'm the great pretender
A drift in a world of my own
I play the game; but to my real shame
You've let me to dream all alone.
I look to the pale gray eyes of the old lady, and find something there with a little more expression than usual, perhaps even close to the empathy makes me feel deeply moved and vulnerable... I never imagined a black singing could mess with my feelings as if I were listening to a Wagner opera! Involuntarily and still looking deep into Frau Künzel´s eyes, I feel hurt, and, involuntarily, constrict my lips and my eyes in a child crying face. I don´t know what's going on with me, but I feel tired and as if I really was a child (to the utter amazement of the old woman), I seek comfort. I slowly back my head on her shoulder.
Too real is this feeling of make believe
Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal.
I stop dancing, wrap her in my embrace and cry, cry awkward, full of hurt and intense tears. Crying is much truer than I could imagine. Within seconds, I go back to being just a boy.
Frightened by my unusual reaction, Frau Künzel, always so practical, tries to get me to stop.
- Shhh! Herr Kommandant, what are you doing? Can anyone hear you!
I barely obeyed to what she said, ashamed to myself like I was in that moment. When was the last time I cried? I cannot even need exactly. Maybe it was the age of six, when I was learning to ride a bike, I fell down and my father, instead of giving me some kind of comfort, bent down and shook me by the shoulders, looked straight into my eyes and said:
- Amon, pay attention. A real man never cries!
Yes, father, Know that I cried. I cried a lot in front of the coffin of my firstborn too, and crying now, in front of this woman so devoid of empathy. Frau Künzel should know she cannot call me Herr Kommandant anymore... Plaszow is passed to us. I am no longer master of all, I am no longer Hauptsturmführer of the Waffen SS, I'm not even Amon Goeth. I am Anton Klauss Prauchner, a millionaire, an art collector, a recluse, a philanthropist, a... failed!
- Sir, please, control yourself! - I hear the old housekeeper´s voice in the distance, but I don´t care...
I mean, I should care, I know, she's right, a man like me don´t cry, cannot be touched by anything, a man like me don´t feel, a captain of the SS as I isn´t compatible for nothing and no one... Someone like me don´t feel pity, even of myself...
Oh yes I'm the great pretender
Just laughing and gay like a clown
I seem to be what I'm not; you see
I'm wearing my heart like a crown
Pretending that you're still around...
Finally pull away the comfortable shoulder of Frau Künzel, dry my eyes using the back of one hand (nothing chivalrous gesture, of course), pull her away sharply and, looking very seriously into her eyes, I say:
- Leave.
- Ja, Herr Prauchner.
I see her leave and relieved, immediately close the door. Take a deep breath, my heart pounding, because I feel very, very embarrassed, but still unrepentant. After all, they were many years without dropping a single tear! I thought my eyes had dried forever after my son´s death, and I'm happy to still be able not be dry inside.
I support my hands on the back of the chair, down my head and listen to the final chords of the infamous song.
Too real is this feeling of make believe
Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal
Yes I'm the great pretender
Just laughing and gay like a clown
I seem to be what I'm not you see
I'm wearing my heart like a crown
Pretending that you're still around
I watch my hands and see I contracted so hard in the chair that lost their natural colour and passed for a purplish tone, cadaverous. Feeling a strong tingling in them, I rub my wrists in an attempt to regain circulation and turn off the radio. I breathe deeply once again.
- Great, Amon, because of your girlie attitude, you'll need to double the salary of this old woman... - I think aloud already sensing the first chords of repentance for being so impulsive and have been so emotionally exposed to someone whom I don´t give a damn.
I leave the dining room and up the stairs to my room. I look at the end of the hall and watch the door of her room. Tiptoed, I go there, avoiding any noise. Gently back my head and hands on the door and I can clearly distinguish she is crying and crying a lot, just as I did a few minutes ago. I cannot bear to hear their sobs and doing nothing.
- Oh, Helen, please, don´t cry, my girl! Don´t cry!
My impulse was to open the door and console her, I even take the room key I keep it in the pocket of my pants. I almost open the door and say that everything will be fine, if she is a good girl for me I know to be good for her, I want to tell her that I can be rather good. She just want to make it happen!
I'm not all evil. I don´t see myself like that. In fact, I can be ridiculously good. There's a part of me wants to hold you, Helen, a part of me reminiscent of my children with love, a part that misses the son who died, a part of me singing silly love songs... Look, I can even dance and laugh with you, if it makes you a little happier.
I do what you want, just let me show it to you. Probably there is a beautiful world inside my chest, Helen, a world that I don´t even know, just help me find it, I can be good for you, I can... I don´t need your understanding, mein liebes kleines mädchen, I just need you. I can be who you want, I swear to you...
Suddenly, I realize the follies I'm thinking as I'm desperate and stopped at her door. This is ridiculous! I never thought this kind of things about myself. Take a deep breath, keep the key in my pocket again, give back to this damn door and forward slowly to my chambers. To my little private hell.
- I´ll burn another night, another night without you!
After a sleepless night, I wake decided to try to be a man, if not better, at least a little nicer to her eyes. After get down and take my breakfast, and, knowing that she has already taken her breakfast too, I go to my room and open a drawer. I picked up a small red lacquer box and open it. Retreat within a small carousel, like the Prater Carousel2 and turning the handle underneath. Soon after, I hear the delicate Debussy's Clair de Lune chords. It's not an Austrian or German composer, but I like him very much. Especially because this Carousel was belonged to Peter, my son who died of diphtheria. I bought it here in Vienna as soon as he was born and saved me as the only memory I have of him. I want Helen to have this as a sign of my sincere appreciation. I will explain it to her, want her to know how much it is important to me.
I forward myself still tired by the bad night sleep, but very pleased I will do. I will certainly please her with this gift. I approach to her door´s room stride, unlock and pull the door key, and open it, with a sincerely smile.
But barely open the door, I notice a slight movement of something approaching my face and instinctively as well as reflexively, I extend my hand in front of my face, as if to protect me. I hear the lacquer box shattering on the floor and then feel a very strong blow to the back of my right hand. The pain is so acute, I have the impression I was hit with something piercing. With the unexpected shock and excruciating pain caused by injury, which quickly begins to bleed profusely, I give a shout, fall to my knees and secure with my left hand, the hand that is wounded in an attempt to contain the heavy flow of blood.
Everything happens so fast I can hardly notice the surroundings. One of the few things that I notice around, it's Helen jump over me, and I'm still enjoying lying on the ground, run out of the room toward the stairs. I try to get up, but my hand is bleeding violently and remain even more a few seconds on the floor, feeling very dizzy to react. Finally, when I hear she down the stairs quickly, I shout:
- Hans, Hans, help here, she ran away!
Gather forces and kicking the music box aside, I get up and try to start running. I look back and see the trail of blood I'm leaving and I think the thing was pretty ugly, maybe I need to give points. The pain is acute and quite uncomfortable, but it won´t prevent me from running. This bitch will pay dearly for it!
- Verflucht jüdischen! Hans! Hans!
In the distance, I hear the first chords of diffuse Clair de Lune...
Notes:
1 "The Great Pretender", music of American rhythm and blues group, The Platters, launched in 1955, a year ahead of "The Labyrinth" events, therefore, within the context of the time.
2 famous Vienna amusement park that still exists nowadays.