A Burnt Child: A Novel

Evening Promenades

56 EVENING PROMENADES at the end of march, the son often goes out for walks in the evenings. The father is also out on these evenings, but he doesn’t take walks. Well, he does, but they are very short. Even so, it’s a long time before he comes home again. He takes the dog out for walks because dogs need exercise. And every evening when he steps out the front door, he goes in a different direction. But every evening he ends up in the same place, which makes the dog very happy. But before he ever gets there, it just so happens that he abruptly steps off the sidewalk and steps into a pub or a café, where he immediately looks for a newspaper, the biggest one he can find. Then he sits by the window with the paper covering his face as if he were reading. But he is not reading. Every time someone passes by on the street, he is peeking over the edge of the paper. Sometimes the son walks by. He strolls by slowly, and his eyes rove around as if they are looking for something. And they probably are. To a certain degree, the father is surprised to see his son out walking about, because they were just talking about it ten minutes ago. You should go outside and get some exercise, son, the father had said. You shouldn’t be indoors on such a beautiful evening. But the son told him that it 57 Evening Promenades would be better for him to finish the eighty pages he had to read before his lecture the next morning. Snapped at him almost. So the father finds it somewhat strange when he suddenly passes by. But in a way he doesn’t. Because he was actually sitting there and waiting for him. Though the first few times he isn’t himself aware that he is waiting. But one evening, right after the son passes by, the dog starts whimpering at his feet. Then he realizes that he’s sitting with his foot pressed hard against the floor and that the dog’s leash is pressed between his sole and the floor. That’s why the dog is whimpering. It can’t lift its head off the ground. But it’s not supposed to, because if its head were raised, then the dog could be seen from the street. Since then, the father knows why he is waiting. And since then, he is never at ease until he has seen the son walk by. If, one evening, he doesn’t happen to walk by, then the father waits until it’s very dark out. Then he sneaks onto the street like a thief sneaks into a house. Then he runs the whole way. The dog runs, too, but it’s faster. And when they arrive, they are both panting. But one evening in March, when it is unusually warm and has just lightly rained, the father gives a start when the son walked by. Yes, walked by, because he realized—after he has let the dog sit up between the table and the window—that he didn’t have to sit and wait that night. They had just walked together to the streetcar stop, where the son got on the nine to go to a lecture. This is why he gives a start. After that, he hits the dog on the nose with the palm of his hand, relieving some of his pain. Because even when you have expected it, it hurts to be deceived. To be the one deceiving doesn’t hurt nearly as much. But failing to notice that you have been deceived , when you have been expecting it all along, can keep you happy. This is why the son is happy when the father comes home early that evening. And to make the father happy, too, he makes some coffee. As they drink it, he tells him about a funny thing that happened at the lecture. The father laughs loudly at the son’s story. But he isn’t happy, nor does he pull out his wallet. Then the son calls the dog because the father likes it when he pets it. When the dog comes, 58 Evening Promenades the son notices it has a brand-new shiny silver collar. It didn’t have it two hours ago. It had...