NORMAN MANEA
91
toward it, with the growing conviction that it somehow belonged to
them.
People would stop dead in the street to take a look at the preco–
cious celebrity. Acquaintances, or even complete strangers, would cross
from the other sidewalk and walk up to the white-haired lady:
"Excuse me, but isn't that the boy who gave the speech?"
They patted him on the head. He would feel, for an instant, as if a
golden power were ennobling his shoulders. Then it would be over. He
would be yelled at because he did not say hello to the tobacconist's fat
wife, because his fingernails were dirty, or there he goes again, putting
his hands in his pockets, he looks elsewhere, doesn't pay attention when
grown-ups talk
to
him.. . .
Nothing upset him more than the compliments of relatives, particu–
larly of those who lived far away and had not participated in the event,
but were impressed by the mere echo of his fame.
"But my dear, why don't you come to see us? ... I've heard ... of
course bring him over at least once. I beg you ... "
During these visits, in houses of people he did not know, the hero
was served up right after the dessert. Tears were shed and immediately
forgotten in the chatter and the shouting, as each guest tried to drown
out the next. Afterward coffee was served, weak and sweet.
An ever- greater number of new acquaintances turned up - wives of
cousins three times removed, former neighbors of the cripple who deliv–
ered seltzer water, childhood friends of deceased grandparents. People
looked for each other, trying to recapture the old life, the old pleasures.
The winds of hope shook the little town during these first months
of peace. They lived loudly and with excess vitality. The lust for life
constantly sought reasons to break out and often did without any rea-
The parks rustled with tango rhythms. Visits, birthdays, name days,
anniversaries, parties, engagements, weddings. Especially weddings. Wed–
dings of relatives and acquaintances, of neighbors, friends, and friends of
friends, innumerable weddings. They went everywhere they were invited,
as if to make up for lost time and reassure themselves that they had come
back alive, that they could start over again with renewed strength. The
whole family went, no one was left behind, neither the old nor the chil–
dren.
. . . It would be hard to say whose idea it was. Somehow, it was in
the air. People kept looking for something new, exciting, something to
stoke the fire, to provoke tears, laughter. Never mind who was the first
to suggest it - they seized it instantly, casually. The boy went along
without reacting.
He still remembered the first time he had felt as though smoke were
choking him: he couldn't breathe, and then he seemed to split in two.
