Susanne Gregor: Territorien (Territories)

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(…) I take a deep breath, the evening air has grown cooler since it began to rain every day, and yet I can feel sweat on my brow, feel exhaustion in my bones, look downwards at my legs, the quarrelling tires me out, please just leave me alone for a while, I tell Samuel, who has come out to look for me, just let me be, I say, and he shrugs his shoulders and goes indoors, but leaves the door open, I walk up the path towards the neighbouring house, and after passing it, I go to the next one, and the next, and look in through the evening windows at the families who are sitting there eating dinner together, the smell of meat and beans wafting out of the open doors and windows, and I wonder if we will ever become settled here like that, Samuel and I, if something like normality will ever set in, such as we had in Vienna, talking about our experiences over the evening meal, how much security lay in repeating this ritual, however much it deceived me, and Vali was perhaps right: it is not possible, one cannot cling to the life of others, she had warned me when I fell in love with Samuel and only wanted to spend time with him, no-one is unbreakable, don’t you understand, if you sit down on a wobbly chair and hope that it won't give way under you, don’t be surprised if you find yourself on the floor with bruises, and I murmured, Samuel isn't a wobbly chair, and she laughed, he's no more or less wobbly than the others, but you have to look for support within yourself, do you understand, and at that time I thought yes, now I understand why she herself always sacrificed every relationship with such abandon for the sake of her job.

I don't have time for this nonsense, she always used to say after the first quarrel she’d had with her latest new boyfriend and broken with him, and her eyes would gleam with pride, as if she were throwing the man into a volcano as a sacrificial offering to the gods of independence, whereas I am always wrestling with Samuel about who is allowed to feel happy and who has to suffer, who is making the greater sacrifice, how much longer do I still have to bear it and when can I leave, impatiently searching the road for the lights of cars, longing to see Nacho's grey car, for his calm eyes, how different his world is, even his words are different, soft like cotton wool, whereas Samuel's words hit me like stones. But the road remains deserted and I walk back down to Marta's house, where the door is still wide open, with everybody inside sleeping. Marta on the sofa and Samuel on our bed, on his back, with his arms spread out wide, as if he were waiting for me to lie down beside him. I look into his peaceful face, from which every reproach has vanished, sleeping he always entices me with his innocence, which is the root of all the things that we quarrel about, our shared ground, like the bottom of the sea, while on the surface we are rolling over each other like waves, yet perhaps it is precisely this innocence which I allow to delude me, perhaps that is the wobbly chair which is always collapsing under me.

>>Incentives