I DIDN’T KNOW the woman’s name. Clutching my bunch of flowers, I hesitated in front of the door and all the bells. I would rather have turned around and left, but then a man came out of the building, asked who I was looking for, and directed me to Frau Schmitz on the third floor.
No decorative plaster, no mirrors, no runner. Whatever unpretentious beauty the stairwell might once have had, it could never have been comparable to the grandeur of the fa?ade, and it was long gone in any case. The red paint on the stairs had worn through in the middle, the stamped green linoleum that was glued on the walls to shoulder height was rubbed away to nothing, and bits of string had been stretched across the gaps in the banisters. It smelled of cleaning fluid. Perhaps I only became aware of all this some time later. It was always just as shabby and just as clean, and there was always the same smell of cleaning fluid, sometimes mixed with the smell of cabbage or beans, or fried food or boiling laundry.
I never learned a thing about the other people who lived in the building apart from these smells, the mats outside the apartment doors, and the nameplates under the doorbells. I cannot even remember meeting another tenant on the stairs.
Nor do I remember how I greeted Frau Schmitz. I had probably prepared two or three sentences about my illness and her help and how grateful I was, and recited them to her. She led me into the kitchen.
It was the largest room in the apartment, and contained a stove and sink, a tub and a boiler, a table, two chairs, a kitchen cabinet, a wardrobe, and a couch with a red velvet spread thrown over it. There was no window. Light came in through the panes of the door leading out onto the balcony—not much light; the kitchen was only bright when the door was open. Then you heard the scream of the saws from the carpenter’s shop in the yard and smelled the smell of wood.
The apartment also had a small, cramped living room with a dresser, a table, four chairs, a wing chair, and a coal stove. It was almost never heated in winter, nor was it used much in summer either. The window faced Bahnhofstrasse, with a view of what had been the railroad station, but was now being excavated and already in places held the freshly laid foundations of the new courthouse and administration buildings. Finally, the apartment also had a windowless toilet. When the toilet smelled, so did the hall.
I don’t remember what we talked about in the kitchen. Frau Schmitz was ironing; she had spread a woolen blanket and a linen cloth over the table; lifting one piece of laundry after another from the basket, she ironed them, folded them, and laid them on one of the two chairs. I sat on the other. She also ironed her underwear, and I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help looking. She was wearing a sleeveless smock, blue with little pale red flowers on it. Her shoulder-length, ash-blond hair was fastened with a clip at the back of her neck. Her bare arms were pale. Her gestures of lifting the iron, using it, setting it down again, and then folding and putting away the laundry were an exercise in slow concentration, as were her movements as she bent over and then straightened up again. Her face as it was then has been overlaid in my memory by the faces she had later. If I see her in my mind’s eye as she was then, she doesn’t have a face at all, and I have to reconstruct it. High forehead, high cheekbones, pale blue eyes, full lips that formed a perfect curve without any indentation, square chin. A broad-planed, strong, womanly face. I know that I found it beautiful. But I cannot recapture its beauty.
我不知道那個(gè)女人叫什么名字。我手持一束鮮花,猶豫不決地站在了樓下門口的門鈴前。我真想回去,但這時(shí),從門里走出一個(gè)人來,他問我要找誰,并把我領(lǐng)到了四樓的史密芝女士家。
沒有石膏花飾,沒有鏡子,沒有地毯。樓道里應(yīng)有的那種純樸的、不能與門面的那種富麗堂皇相比擬的美,早已不復(fù)存在。階梯中間的紅漆已被踩沒了,貼在樓梯旁墻上的、與肩齊高的、有壓印花紋的綠色漆布被磨得油光锃亮。凡是樓梯扶手支柱壞了的地方,都被拉上了繩子,樓道聞起來有洗滌劑的味道——也許這些都是我后來才注意到的。它總是那樣年久失修的樣子,總是那樣地清潔,聞起來總是同一種洗滌劑的味道,有時(shí)和白菜或扁豆的味混在一起,有時(shí)和炒炸或煮、洗衣服的味混在一起。除了這些味道、門前的腳墊和門鈴按鈕下面的姓名牌,我不認(rèn)識(shí)住在這里的任何其他人。我也不記得我是否在樓道里曾遇到過其他住戶。
我也記不得我是怎樣和史密芝女士打的招呼?赡芪野咽孪认牒昧说膬扇溆嘘P(guān)我的病情、她的幫助和感謝她的話背給了她聽。她把我?guī)У綇N房里。
廚房是所有房間中最大的一間,里面有電爐盤。水池、浴盆、浴水加熱爐、一張桌子、兩把椅子、一臺(tái)冰箱、一個(gè)衣柜和一張長(zhǎng)沙發(fā)。沙發(fā)椅上鋪著一塊紅色的天鵝絨布料。廚房沒有窗子,光線是由通向陽臺(tái)的門上的玻璃照射進(jìn)來的,沒有多少光線,只是門開著的時(shí)候廚房才有亮,可是這樣就聽得見從院子里木工棚中傳來的鋸木頭的尖叫聲,并聞得到木頭味。
還有一間又小又窄的起居室,里面配有餐具柜。餐桌、四把椅子、耳型扶手沙發(fā)和一個(gè)爐子。這個(gè)房間冬天的時(shí)候從來就沒生過爐子,夏天的時(shí)候也幾乎是閑置不用。窗子面向火車站街,看得見以前的被挖得亂七八糟的火車站舊址和已經(jīng)奠基的新的法院和政府機(jī)關(guān)辦公大樓的工地。房間里還有一間不帶窗戶的廁所,如果廁所里有臭味的話,房間過道里也聞得到。
我也不記得我們?cè)趶N房里都說了些什么。史密芝女士在熨衣服,她在桌子上鋪了一塊毛墊和一塊亞麻巾,從筐簍里一件接一件地拿出衣服,熨好之后疊起來放在其中的一把椅子上。我坐在另外的一把椅子上。她也熨她的內(nèi)褲,我不想看,但又無法把目光移開。她穿著一件無袖的藍(lán)底帶有淺紅色小花的圍裙。她把她的齊肩長(zhǎng)的金灰色長(zhǎng)發(fā)用發(fā)夾束在了頸后。她裸露的胳膊是蒼白的。她拿著熨斗熨幾下,又放下,把熨好的衣服疊在一起放在一邊。她手的動(dòng)作很慢,很專注,轉(zhuǎn)身、彎腰、起身的動(dòng)作也同樣很慢/民專注。她當(dāng)時(shí)的面部表情被我后來的記憶覆蓋了。如果我閉上眼睛想象她當(dāng)時(shí)的樣子,想象不出她的面部表情是什么樣子。我必須重新塑造她。她高額頭,高顴骨,兩只淺藍(lán)色的眼睛,上下的兩片嘴唇均勻而豐滿,下顎顯得非常有力,一幅平淡的、冷冰冰的女人面孔。我知道,我曾經(jīng)覺得它很美,眼下我又看出它的漂亮之處。