Read The Attic for Free Online Page B

I snapped. “ Just hand me the flask. ”
    “ Okay, okay, ” he said. “ Kill yourself with it for all I care. You haven ’ t eaten anything for days and you won ’ t come to your senses. You ’ re going to go nuts like this. ”
    “ So what if I go nuts? At least I won ’ t be conscious of anything. ”
    “ Just a little soup, ” Igor said, guiding the spoon to my mouth. “ And enough of these dark thoughts . . . So, what really happened? ”
    “ Nothing happened, ” I said. “ Everything is perfectly fine. ”
    “ Eurydice . . . ”
    “ Shut up! ”
    “ Well, well, look at that, ” he said. “ You ’ ve gotten as mean as a junkyard dog. But I ’ m simply asking as your friend: What ’ s going on with you two? Something ’ s obviously not right. ”
    “ Everything is fine. (Sorry, but I ’ m really irritated.) Why shouldn ’ t it be? She loves me, I love her, and . . . so there. ”
    “ Nonetheless, ” he said. “ Something happened during your absence. Surely she didn ’ t . . . ”
    “ You are a vulgarian, Igor. She ’ s not that Marija from the ground floor . . . ”
    “ Still, something happened. That ’ s clear enough. Ultimately, even your Eurydice is no angel. Even she . . . ”
    “ Igor! If you say anything obscene, I swear I ’ ll kill you. I don ’ t know with what, but I ’ ll kill you. ”
    “ All right! ” said Igor. “ This means that your old egoism is back. You ’ re cured. You ’ ve recovered. ”
    “ Give me a cigarette, ” I said, “ so I can thaw out. ”
    We smoked for ten minutes without a word. The soup gave off steam and, together with the aroma of the tobacco smoke, the vapor gave the attic a new odor.
    I only drank one more little glass of cognac.
    Afterward I spent several months in the attic, neither receiving visitors nor going out. I grew a beard like a hermit. Serpents hatched under my nails.
    I had ripped the lute ’ s hair out so it wouldn ’ t provoke me. I plugged up its mouth with dirty rags so that it couldn ’ t sigh and couldn ’ t hear.
    Day and night I reclined in the rocking chair, staring at the ceiling. I listened to the gurgling of the rain, the grieving of the winds.
    From time to time Igor brought me unsweetened tea with toast and cigarettes. I was choking on my own stench, in the smoke. I had forgotten how to see and how to speak.
    I was a coward for not killing myself then. Or wise.
    Freshly shaven, and in my sumptuous black tie, I was seated before a succulent leg of chicken in a caf é . I had a white napkin across my knees and the sleeves of my coat were rolled up so they wouldn ’ t get worn out. I was no longer drinking either dark, flavorsome wine or scorching absinthe. I had only mineral water and a soft drink. Voraciously, with my nose in the foam, I gulped down a beer.
    “ I barely recognized you, ” said Billy Wiseass.
    I offered him my hand in greeting without getting up.
    “ Well . . . filtered cigarettes, uh-huh, and real mineral water, and . . . ”
    “ Cut it out! ” I said. “ This is not some roadside dive. ”
    I saw the malice in his eyes. He was getting ready to say something unpleasant to me. Maybe to remind me of the attic. To rub my nose in it and stain my sleeves. I waited, nibbling away at the drumstick. A bone had gotten caught in my throat.
    “ You ’ re not even going to offer me a seat, ” he said. “ Look, even if you ’ re angry at the whole world, that ’ s still no reason. . . . ”
    “ Sit down, ” I said.
    I saw that he had something to tell me.
    “ Do you want a beer? Waiter! ”
    “ A cognac, ” he said. “ A double shot, please. ”
    “ How ’ s your Urania? ” I asked. “ I haven ’ t seen you two for a long while. ”
    “ Fine, thanks, ” he said. “ Oh, yeah — I almost forgot. Perhaps this will interest you . . . ”
    “ Out with it already! ” I said. “ You ’ re cooking up something malicious, aren ’ t you, you dirty rat. ”
    “ Eurydice! ” he