I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t remotely made to travel the seven seas, no matter how many opposites were true, but instead was mostly made for him. However, that, too, was outlined in red.

“You have to go now,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“First, you’d have to let go of my hand,” Frederik said, and I let go.

“Now you can,” I said, and Frederik walked through the glass door. It shut behind him before I had a chance to stick my foot in it, which is impossible anyway when you’re made of ninety-nine percent water.

Frederik hurried on, and I tightened my grip on Alaska’s leash because he was pulling on it again. Frederik turned and waved. His face suddenly filled with a look of astonishment. He was looking just over my head as if a storm front had built up behind me. I turned around. Dr. Maschke was standing right behind me.

“He’ll be back,” he announced, as if he were a celebrated scientist revealing a sensational discovery to the world. He said it so solemnly that for a moment I was unsure if he was, in fact, talking about Frederik or someone else for whom a return was anatomically impossible, like my grandfather or Martin.

“Go away,” I said. I’d never said this to anyone and thought of Marlies, who never said anything else from morning to night.

Dr. Maschke gave me a soothing smile.

“Express your anger freely,” he said. “Self-actualization is impossible without experiencing anger.”

“Go away and stop getting on everyone’s nerves with your creaky leather jacket,” I said.

And it worked.

For 140 marks, Alaska and I took a cab back to town, straight to the bookstore. I paid the driver—it was the most expensive day of my life. I thought of the bailiff who had gone to Farmer Leidig’s house, put seals on everything he owned, and announced: “None of this belongs to you anymore.”

SEE ABOVE

The well-planned Christmas party in the community center took place in the afternoon and without the slightest turbulence. Palm had remained silent almost the entire time despite the many Bible quotations that would have been fitting. The entire afternoon he had only said two words: “To Martin.”

At the end of every Christmas party in the community center, the optician raised his glass. “To Martin,” the entire village said in chorus, and looked up at the wood-paneled ceiling. High above, Martin sat on a cloud in heaven, within earshot of the Lord, waving at us. That was how Palm, who toasted with currant juice instead of wine, had explained it to us.