The End of the Ocean

Chapter 20 DAVID

“Have you turned in already?”

When I saw Lou, I was taken aback. During the past few days she’d had more energy and refused to go to bed early. But now she was lying in bed, curled up on her side, her body forming a C under the sheet and with her face towards the entrance.

The hall was almost empty. The majority of the residents were still sitting outside in the hot evening air. They needed to be outside after hiding from the sun all day long. Only the sound of an elderly couple having a hushed conversation could be heard and the breathing of someone who was already asleep.

I sat down on the edge of Lou’s bed, but then she gave a sudden start and contracted her body into a ball under the sheet she had over her like a blanket.

“Is something wrong?”

I tried to whisper, not wanting to disturb the elderly couple.

“No,” she said.

She answered far too quickly.

What had happened today? I reviewed it quickly in my mind. I had been to the Red Cross. She hadn’t wanted to come along, saying she preferred to stay with Francis.

At the Red Cross everything was as usual. They had no news for me. The same answer as before. Every time I went there it became more difficult. But I kept going anyway. What else could I do?

When I picked Lou up afterwards, she’d been happy. She and Francis were laughing about something. I didn’t ask what, didn’t even think about asking.

Then we went to the boat. We went there every day now. It was the only place where I could escape from my thoughts. The only place where I found some relief. And it was good to get out of the camp. During the past few days the halls had filled up. There were beds everywhere. Many people were being pressured to share cubicles with strangers. Fortunately, for the time being, Lou and I were left in peace.

The food rations had been reduced. I had almost become accustomed to going hungry. To the growling of my stomach. A craving throughout my entire body. The thought of chocolate, bacon grease, hot cocoa with whipped cream, French fries, deep-frying fat, breast of duck, lasagna, pâté, fresh bread, just fresh bread with butter.

There were rumors of how no supplies had been delivered for a week. That the camp was depleting its food supply.

And the morale. The piles of garbage, stinking in the heat. More slogans were written on walls all the time.

More and more frequently I saw small groups of people huddled together, speaking in low voices, closing ranks among themselves.

The very sound of the camp had changed. There was a constant, oppressive hum, which threatened to grow louder all the time.

But the worst part was the water. They had cut back the rations even more. We couldn’t shower, couldn’t wash our clothes. We received only exactly as much as we needed to drink.

I woke up and thought about water, drank a few lukewarm drops, saving it for Lou. I slept and thought about water, my tongue parched. I tried breathing through my nose so as to preserve as much saliva as possible.

I hadn’t seen much of Marguerite. I stayed away from her. Or she stayed away from me.

After the brawl, after Marguerite’s hand on my arm, I caught myself walking around looking for her in the camp. All the time I thought I spotted her back in front of me in the line, or heard her voice from around a corner.

I wanted to see her again. And I didn’t want to.

I fantasized about what could happen. What would have happened if she’d continued? If she had moved her hand a little further up my arm. Stroked my neck, my throat. Pulled me close to her…

But I hadn’t spoken with her today either. We had stayed at the boat until dinnertime.

In the evening Lou disappeared with Francis again. They had a game, she said, an appointment to play a game. She was so happy and enthusiastic, it was good to see her like that.

While she was away, I sat with Caleb and Martin outside the hall. I was unable to think of anything but how hungry I was, talked about nothing, about everything, joked.

I didn’t notice that Lou had come back, but suddenly she appeared beside me. She’d smiled. Slyly? Yes, she had smiled slyly. And she’d gone straight inside. Then she’d said she wanted to go to bed. And now she was lying here hiding something.

I tried to move closer, but she didn’t want to make room for me.

“Lou?”

She didn’t reply.

“Lou, what are you up to?”

“Nothing.”

She didn’t dare look me in the eyes.

“Sit up.”

“No.”

The elderly couple spoke more softly, realizing that something was happening.

“Lou.”

“No!”

She shook her head fiercely.

“Get out of bed now.”

She curled up again like a hedgehog in her bed.

I threatened her, but it didn’t help. Now the elderly couple was silent.

“Lou!”

“No!”

Finally I had to lift her entire body out of bed.

She squirmed in my arms. Fought back. But without a word, without making a sound. Just soft, belabored breathing.

“What is going on with you?” I whispered.

I sat her down hard on my own bed. I turned towards hers, pulled off the sheet.

But there was nothing there.

Lou had clearly given up fighting back. She just sat there, a limp heap, with an expression on her face that was so guilty I almost had to laugh.

And now I saw what she was hiding. A lump in the mattress. She’d hidden something under it.

I lifted the mattress.

It was a tin can. A picture of yellow corn shone back at me from the label. It felt heavy in my hand.

At that moment the elderly couple walked past in the hallway.

I quickly hid the can from them behind my back.

“Nothing here,” I said loudly. “That’s good.”

Then I dropped the mattress back in place, took hold of Lou and led her outside with me.

I pulled her with me away from the hall, between the rows of tents and barracks, past clusters of people. Behind the sanitary barracks I finally found a calm spot. We sat down there. I put the can between us.

“Where did you get this from?”

Lou stared down at the ground.

She pressed her lower lip beneath her upper lip, so it almost disappeared, but said nothing.

“Did someone give it to you?”

Still no answer.

“Lou? Did you get it from Francis?”

She shook her head.

“Somebody else? Someone who wanted to do something nice for you?”

I could hear my voice trembling. There were so many single men here, especially among the most recent arrivals. Damaged men. Thick-Neck, I thought suddenly. Men like him. And little Lou. Her lack of shyness, the underpants she just pulled off without thinking about who could see.

“Who did you get that from?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Have you had it long? How long have you had it?”

“I don’t remember, Daddy.”

“I told you not to accept things from people you don’t know. You can never know what they want, I told you that. You mustn’t believe what people say.”

I had a lot more on my mind. I wanted to reprimand her. Because she was so naïve, she trusted anyone. I wanted to shake her until she told me who had given her the food. Who wanted something with her, who wanted something from her? Because nobody gave anything away without wanting something in return. Especially not here. Not now. But she interrupted me.

“But nobody gave it to me.”

And then suddenly I understood.

“…You… you took it?”

“No, I didn’t. No.”

“You took it from somebody.”

I was unable to say stole.

“Daddy…”

And I didn’t need to hear her say it, because her entire little body communicated it.

Her face was bright red. The tears pressed forward between her eyelashes, trickled rapidly down her cheeks. A child’s huge, guilty tears, hard to resist.

I tried to strengthen my resolve.

“Who did you take it from? Who is it that won’t have any dinner today because of you?”

“But there’s tons of them,” she stammered. “In a gigantic room. There are a lot of cans there. You should have seen it, Daddy. Many, many cans. And I just took one.”

A storeroom. The camp’s storeroom, all there was left, now that the supplies were no longer being delivered. And she had stolen from there. We could be thrown out for something like that.

Suddenly, I felt cold.

“Weren’t there any security guards?”

She answered quickly, no longer trying to hide anything: “I got in from the back. Under the canvas. It was just big enough.”

That slender body. She could wriggle her way in anywhere.

“Did anybody see you?”

She shook her head. “Nobody. I’m sure.”

My child stole. How had she learned that? Why?

Everything I should have said. Ought to have said. I ought to have said something that would have ensured that this didn’t happen and wouldn’t happen again. But I was too hungry.

“Don’t do that again,” was all I managed to get out.

Then I took a can opener out of my bag.

It scraped against the metal.

We used our fingers like tweezers, the index and middle finger, picking one piece of corn at a time out of the can. Taking turns.

The sweet, crisp, yellow taste, the crunching sensation of every single kernel of corn, I guided each one into place between my front teeth with my tongue, tried dividing them in two, before I pushed them further back into my mouth and chewed properly.

We emptied the can slowly, in silence.

I fell asleep more quickly than usual. The corn stuck to my ribs. The sounds of everyone we shared this hall with disappeared, the hushed talking, the breathing, the beds creaking, the rummaging through bags and suitcases, the snoring. Sleep took me away from all of it. I sank down into the water. It felt as if I would stay there a long time.

But something yanked me awake, almost immediately. Sounds pulled me to the surface. I fought back, wanting to remain down there. But the sounds grew louder, turning into screams.

I sat up in bed. Lou was still breathing calmly. Children can sleep through everything.

I pulled the sheet over her, stood up and went outside.

Caleb was standing there, as vigilant as a bird. His arms were crossed over his chest.

“It’s him again,” he said. “That bastard from the north. Christian and Martin couldn’t stay away.”

A loud bang and somebody yelling, followed by ominous howls. And then Caleb also set off at a run.

“Wait,” I said.

But he ran to join the mob.

I stayed behind by the entrance to the hall. I wanted to run after him.

But Lou was lying in there, alone. I couldn’t abandon her again. Couldn’t explain more bruises, blood and Band-Aids to her.

And what if she woke up, what if she came out?

The intensity of the racket increased, the screams grew louder. More people came running. I tried not to listen.

Tried not to hear the swearing. The threats. Tents being knocked over. Clothing being torn, loud crashes from things being broken.

But it was my people who were being threatened.

Caleb, Martin, Christian.

My muscles tensed. My heart pounded.

I had to protect them. Be one of them. I owed them that.

We’d already been in a fight together, it was my duty to do my part.

I was about to start running.

But then Marguerite was there. She arrived rapidly, short of breath. Appeared by my side.

She laid her hand on my arm, again she laid her hand on my arm.

At first I thought she was going to restrain me. But then I realized that she was afraid.

“They’re in my hall,” she said. “I can’t… I couldn’t stay there.”

I took her hand in mine and pulled her along with me.

It had been so long since I had held hands with anyone except Lou. Marguerite’s hand was so big. Even though she was thin, it filled my hand completely.

We stopped just inside the door to the hallway. She was breathing more easily, but didn’t let go of me.

Without another thought I pulled her inside with me. Into our cubicle. Where Lou was fast asleep.

We sat down on my bed.

She lay down.

I lay down with her.

She had this thinness about her, also when I was lying close to her.

I was lying close to her.

There’s something wrong, I thought.

There’s something wrong with me, if I can do this.

If I can lie here and feel her, feel the differences between her and Anna.

All the ways they are different, all the ways they are similar. There is something wrong with me.

I have to stop now.

I kept going.

It was like the fight.

I stopped thinking.

Thought about everything.

Skin under my hands. Another body against my own.

I didn’t want it to stop.

Didn’t want anything else except that it would stop.

That somebody would stop it for me.

We didn’t make a sound. Lou was sleeping. They were still at it out there, but it was far away, the din rose and fell.

They made sounds for us. Their sounds became ours.

Her body was taut and thin, only her abdomen was different, scarred. There were marks from her navel to her pubic bone, where the skin had been stretched.

Somebody had been inside her, somebody she no longer had with her.

I ran my fingers over the stretch marks, wanting to ask but unable to do so.

Hoped she could say something.

I stroked the stretch marks. And that was the only time she took my hand away.