PART 7 — The walk back through the silence
The walk back home was very different from the walk there. The wind had died down, leaving only puddles of water in which the streetlamp light gleamed like broken pieces of gold. My feet felt light, almost floating, despite the fatigue pulling through all my bones. I had seen her. I had spoken with her. She hadn’t shown me the door; she hadn’t cursed or sworn at me, as I had perhaps feared deep down inside.
She had invited me for lunch. Tomorrow. When I inserted the key into the lock of my own front door and stepped into the hallway, the house smelled musty and cold. The heating was set low. Normally I would have walked straight to the kitchen to remove the extra chair from the table, thinking it pointless to leave it there any longer as a kind of silent indictment.
But this time I didn't. I walked to the dining table, took off my coat, and draped it over a chair. The extra plate was still there. White, with a gold rim my mother had once given me for my wedding. I ran my finger over the porcelain edge. “She’s alive,” I whispered into the empty room. “And she wanted me to come back.” The next morning I was up at six.
I made coffee, but barely drank it. My thoughts buzzed with plans and doubts. What should I wear? What outfit would show that I meant it, that I had grown old and milder, without looking pathetic? In the end, I chose simple dark blue trousers and a soft beige cardigan. No more strict tailored suits, no masks of false dignity. At precisely twelve o’clock I stood once more before the door of the apartment by the canal.
My hands trembled as I raised them to knock, but before I could, the door swung open. Daan stood in the doorway. He had a gym bag over his shoulder and looked at me with the same questioning gaze as the day before. “Hey,” he said a bit surprised. “It’s you again.” “Hey, Daan,” I said, and this time I couldn't suppress my smile. “I’m here for lunch.” Daan raised an eyebrow and looked inside, toward his mother standing in the hallway with a dishtowel in her hand. “Well, come in then,” the boy said with a shrug, making room in the narrow corridor.
