Free The Left-Handed Woman by Peter Handke Page A

others to get the door, while
she stayed on the phone. “No, I’m not alone. Can’t you hear? But come ahead. Do come!”
    Bruno and Franziska appeared.
    Franziska said to the woman, “And we were expecting to find the loneliest woman on earth.”
    â€œI apologize for not being alone this evening. It’s quite accidental.”
    Franziska to the child: “I have a name. So stop referring to me as ‘the teacher,’ the way you did on the telephone just now.”
    The publisher: “In that case, I don’t want to be called ‘the publisher’ any more, either; my name is Ernst.”
    The woman embraced Bruno.
    The publisher stepped up to Franziska and said, “Let’s you and me embrace, too,” and his arms were already around her. The woman opened the door and went outside; the actor was coming slowly down the street. She let him in without a word.
    Bruno looked him over. Then he said, “Are you the boyfriend?” And then, “I suppose you’re sleeping with my wife. Or aiming to, at least?”
    He stared as he had at the office. “I bet you’re the type that drives an ancient small car with a lot of political pornography magazines lying around on the back seat?”
    He went on staring. “Your shoes aren’t shined either. But at least you’re blond. Could it be that you have blue eyes?” After staring a little more he suddenly relaxed; the woman just stood there.

    He said, “I’m only talking, you know. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
    They were all in the living room. The publisher danced with the salesgirl. The chauffeur went out to the car and brought back some more bottles of champagne. Then he passed from one guest to another, clinking glasses.
    The child was playing on the floor among them. Bruno squatted down and watched him.
    The child: “Will you play with me?”
    Bruno: “I can’t play this evening.” He tossed the dice two or three times and said, “Really, I can’t play this evening.”
    The salesgirl detached herself from the publisher, bent down, and threw the dice. Then she went on dancing, breaking away now and then to play dice with the child.
    Filled glasses in hand, the publisher and Franziska walked around each other in circles.
    Bruno cut the child’s toenails in the bathroom.
    The publisher and Franziska smiled as they slowly passed each other in the hallway.
    The child lay in bed and Bruno stood beside him. The child said, “You’re all so strangely quiet.” Bruno only tilted his head to one side. Then he switched off the light.
    He passed down the hallway with the woman to join the others. The actor came toward them; Bruno put his arm around his wife’s shoulders, then took it away.
    The actor said to her, “I’ve been looking for you.”
    They all sat in the living room, not talking very much.
But without being asked they moved closer and closer together and stayed that way for a time.
    The salesgirl leaned her head back and said, “What a long day it’s been! My eyes weren’t eyes any more; they felt like burning holes. They don’t hurt as much now and I’m gradually beginning to see again.”
    The chauffeur, beside her, made a move as though to take hold of her hair, then let his hand drop.
    The publisher knelt down in front of the salesgirl and kissed her fingertips, each separately.
    The chauffeur took some photographs out of his wallet and showed them to each of the others in turn.
    Franziska said to the salesgirl, “Why don’t you join a political party?”
    The salesgirl made no reply but suddenly threw her arms around Franziska; Franziska disengaged herself, looked toward the woman, and said, “Loneliness is a source of loathsome ice-cold suffering, the suffering of unreality. At such times we need people to teach us that we’re not really so far gone.”
    The chauffeur nodded