Klee, Wanda G. Klee. The Click. In: Ahornblätter. Marburger-Beiträge
zur Kanada-Forschung. 12. Marburg, 1999 (Schriften der Universitätsbibliothek
Marburg; 90).
ISBN 3-8185-0274-9 ISSN 0931-7163 http://archiv.ub.uni-marburg.de/sum/90/sum90-10.html
Wanda G. Klee
The Click
Like the body the mind can faint. The wall upright against her back,
the floor solid under her feet, her eyes focus on the loudspeaker above
the door bell. The receiver was put back. Click. No clear notion on her
mind. Just click. The door did not buzz open. Is it that easy? How many
times had she passed this threshold without paying attention? Now she is
watching the different shades of grey in the bricks. On top of the door
there are even some faded graffiti that had escaped her attention for years.
Slowly she walks back to her car, saying a silent goodbye to his garbage
bins. Before driving home she examines her face in the rear view mirror.
There are no unusual lines. She does not drive faster, misses no red light.
A quarter of an hour ago she was driven by a sudden wave of anger. She
did not allow herself to be let down the easiest way, hanging on a phone
line. A question of self-respect. She needed to talk eye to eye once more.
Back home she picks up where she left off. The water in the kitchen sink
is still warm. No need to change it, adding some more hot will do. After
doing the washing up she starts to dust her bedroom, puts the laundry in
the machine and finally turns to her desk to go through neglected correspondence.
In the early evening she makes herself some tea. Her flat is as clean and
neat as it has not been for months with the exception of certain drawers
she decided to deal with later. She is pleased with herself, but does not
feel like going out or call a friend. This night belongs to her and she
does not want to spend it talking about things done with. There is enough
in the fridge for a pasta and wine night in front of the TV. She remembers
their dinners together, how she enjoyed cooking for him. But he did not
like pasta. Slicing the onions her last words echo on her mind again. Did
she really say that? Click. So she had the last word after all. She will
enjoy tonight’s Fatal Attraction without having to pay attention to the
phone for a change.
Fatigue makes her go to bed early. It was a busy day, indeed. But sleep
is harder to find. He will never share this bed again. The constant click
keeps her awake. What would she do in case he called and apologised? Finding
no sleep she turns to her book and spends half of the night reading.
Waking up to a grey Sunday morning she decides to stay in bed a little
longer than usual. She can afford it now that the housework is already
done. But the bed is cold, too cold to feel comfortable in now that she
is awake. So no unusual sleeping in. Breakfast and back to do some ironing.
The phone does not ring. Not even her mother or a friend disturb her. With
the weather clearing up she goes for a long walk in the fields. She enjoys
being alone. This has never been a problem. Yet she faces a slightly different
solitude, one that lacks the background of companionship. The course is
different, too, avoiding certain places to escape sentimentality. She does
not want to pretend that everything is like it has always been, nor is
she willing to stage catastrophe. Even more so with the feeling of indifference
in her. She does not feel anything but the sun on her body. Her thoughts
wander around. She thinks of him, of course, but in a strangely detached
way, as if the click had erased the emotions in her memories. A Stummfilm.
She is not sorry about that. Her condition would be a lot worse if this
had not occurred. This, too, will come later. For the moment she concentrates
on her own well being which did not matter for a long time. Now she wants
to gather her strength for her own sake. Why she had neglected herself
she could not remember exactly. It had appeared perfectly natural to her,
although she never saw herself as that kind of woman. She cannot remember
walking without the burden of missing a call for a very long time.
She returns home before the rain. The weather is not reliable, either.
This evening she does not want to spend alone. But which company is the
right for a night like this? She wants to go to the cinema see a nice and
easy Hollywood movie with a well known set of characters a familiar story
line and predictable endings. Real men who are not afraid to fight.
Wanda G. Klee, Institut für Anglistik und Amerikanistik, Philipps-Universität
Marburg, Wilhelm-Röpke-Straße 6D, 35032 Marburg
e-mail: kleew@mailer.uni-marburg.de
[Zum Inhaltsverzeichnis "Ahornblätter 12"]