At that moment, sitting at the kitchen table, Selma and I were sure that it was actually Dr. Maschke who wanted to give everything up—except for his leather jacket—and that he was actually the one who wanted to travel around the world but, for the sake of convenience, had planted the seed of this idea in my father’s mind through some adage or other. He was sending my father out into a creaking world and because of him we would all be given up and left behind to rot. That’s what Dr. Maschke had been scheming from the very beginning.

“And when will you be back?” I asked again.

Friedhelm waltzed by under Selma’s window, singing loudly that even the smallest ray of sunshine can reach deep into the heart.

“That’s enough,” my father said, and stood up. He ran outside, grabbed Friedhelm, and drove him to his office. My father had medicine for and against every emotional state and he gave Friedhelm another shot that made him tired, so irresistibly tired that Friedhelm fell asleep on the examination table and didn’t wake up until noon the following day, completely confused, into a world in which, for a while, no one, aside from me, was able to sleep.

Selma and I stayed in the kitchen.

“I’ll be all yours in just a moment,” she said, and stroked my arm. I thought Selma would stand up and go into another room, but she kept sitting next to me on the bench, looking out the window. The silence that emanated from her grew much more quickly than the puddle spreading under Alaska. Just when I’d begun to wonder when I might be allowed to interrupt Selma’s silence, the doorbell did it for me.

Martin stood on the doorstep. He was wearing a clean pair of shorts and his hair was freshly plastered down.

“He let you go out again,” I said.

“Yes, he’s asleep. Can I come in?”

I glanced into the kitchen. The silence had risen higher than the dog’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Martin asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

The hand rake Selma had left in the gutter above the kitchen door fell to the ground.

“Some wind we’ve got today,” Martin said, even though it wasn’t true.

He was pale but smiling.

“Can I lift you?”

“Yes, please, lift me up,” I said, and put my arm around Martin’s neck.

EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH

Martin and I went into the kitchen and looked at Selma, wide-eyed. We must have looked pretty helpless, because she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and said, “Well, you two bewildered children. You may not believe it right now, but everything will work out. You both have strange fathers, but they’ll come to their senses at some point. You can take my word for it.”