The Storyteller

“‘I wouldn’t be too surprised,’ the lighthouse keeper said, ‘if that was the island of answers.’

“When they were halfway between the two islands, a whirlpool took hold of the ship, turning it around and around in a circle, and they all lost their balance and fell down onto the deck. Finally, the lighthouse keeper managed to steer the ship out of the whirlpool and back on course toward the second island. The sea lion stuck his head out of a wave. ‘That was the place,’ he said, ‘where all the shouted words fall into the water. They’re too weak to make it from shore to shore. I saw the words underwater, millions of them; they’re lying there on the bottom of the sea, a whole load of wrecked sentences, sentences that never reached their destination, questions from one side and answers from the other …’

“‘How sad!’ the little queen exclaimed. ‘A cemetery of words!’

“‘Some are swallowed by the fish,’ the sea lion said, ‘and they start sprouting the strangest things. Sunfish and electric eels and even crossopterygians …’

“‘I do hope the answering people allow us to go ashore for a bit,’ the little queen sighed. ‘I’d really like to walk on solid ground again, just to feel that something exists.’

“But the shore of the island of answers was packed with too many people, too, all of them wanting to get rid of their answers.

“‘Seven o’clock!’ someone called out.

“‘That adds up to 529.7!’ another one shouted.

“The rose girl pushed the asking man gently to the rail. ‘Here, you will find answers to your questions!’ she said.

“‘But how will I know the correct questions if there are so many answers in my head?’ the asking man asked, his eyes full of tears. And he ran into the cabin and hid between the polar bear skins.

“‘To do good!’ one of the answering people shouted without being asked.

“‘Boil it for three minutes, then let it simmer in the hot water for ten more minutes,’ another one answered.

“‘I don’t think we want to go ashore here,’ the sea lion said. ‘We’ll go ashore when we reach the mainland.’

“Before they sailed away from the island of answers, one of the answering people jumped aboard the ship. He went straight to the cabin, where the asking man was hiding, and for a while all you could hear were questions and answers shooting back and forth: ‘Is he telling the truth?’ ‘On the thirteenth of March.’ ‘Is he good or bad?’ ‘Beneath the beeches, where the anemones grow in spring.’ And then the cabin door flew open and both the asking man and the answering man came ru

“In the meantime, the green ship set course once more for the mainland. The shipmates laughed for a good while about the asking man and the answering man. Then they turned and noticed that the black ship was very close now. So close that they could clearly see the four dark figures aboard. And they stopped laughing.”

• • •

Abel looked into his cup, stirred the cold chocolate, and then looked out the window, as if his thoughts were still lost inside the story.

“Those glasses,” Micha said. “I guess the lighthouse keeper just had them in his pocket. That happens to a lot of people. It happens to my teacher. She isn’t even really old or anything, just kind of old—thirty or something—but she always forgets where she puts her glasses. By the way, she asked me again when she can talk to Mama. I wonder why. But, Abel … when the red hunter came aboard the ship … I let him in, didn’t I? I mean, in reality?”

Abel nodded. “You did.”

“And now … now I shouldn’t let anyone in, right?”

“That’s right.”

Micha nodded. “I didn’t let that man in,” she a

Abel sat up straight. “Who didn’t you let in, Micha?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Micha replied, “since I didn’t let him in. He’d already come up the stairs, he was on the landing, talking to me through the door.”

“What did he say?” A

Micha thought for a while. “That he’s from some kind of office. Something with a shell and a sister. He said it several times, real clear, as if he thought I was half-deaf. Wait … it started with so … shell … a sister office? I think he was from an office for shells and sisters. And he wanted to talk to Mama, too. I didn’t say anything; I was perfectly quiet, as if I wasn’t there at all.”

“That’s good, Micha,” Abel said.

“Possibly … possibly I did say hello, very quickly, at the begi

“So-shell-a-sister-office,” she said. “Social assistance office—that’s it!” Micha exclaimed. “That’s where he came from.”

Abel lifted his cup and downed the rest of the chocolate like vodka. Then he covered his face with his hands, like he had done in the tower made of newspaper, in the literature classroom. As if he’d gone to a private room to calm down. When he took his hands away, he wore something resembling a smile on his face. It was a very strained smile.

“The black ship is still there,” he said. “But today … today, we wanted to celebrate, didn’t we, Micha?”

He got up and put on his jacket. “So let’s celebrate. We’ll … we’ll do something special, we’ll …” Behind his smile, the silhouette of a black ship loomed. She had to distract him, A

“I know what we’ll do,” she said. “We’ll have ice cream. Do you still have room for ice cream?”

“I think so.” Micha nodded. “We haven’t had lunch yet. But can you eat ice cream in winter?”

“Ice cream isn’t lunch,” Abel said. “We should eat something sensible.”

“Oh, come on.” A

“Rose girl,” Abel said softly, “you must be awfully happy on your island.”

“No,” A

The man at the Italian restaurant was surprised, of course, that they wanted ice cream cones to take away. But only a little. Maybe he remembered a little girl and her parents, who had come from time to time, to do the same thing—a father with broad shoulders, who could save you from every danger in the world, and a very gentle mother, who was almost invisible. Had he seen the rose branches beneath their clothes? A

Micha tried to order four scoops of ice cream, but Abel said “two,” and then, “okay … okay, three,” and A