Coming in Unexpectedly

Unerwartetes Hereinkommen

Gordon Carrega

• Verlag: Books on Demand
• Jahr: 2020
• ISBN drucken: 9783751951159
• eBook-ISBN: 9783751947367
• Auflage: 2
• Thema: Literatur
• Thema: Poesie

Carrega's writing is what Charles Baudelaire, great illustrious grandfather of this literary genre, had in mind when, in the introduction to Paris Spleen, his book of prose poems, he called for a poetic prose... supple enough and rugged enough to adapt itself to the lyrical impulses of the soul, the undulations of reverie, the jibes of conscience.

SUNDAY EVENING

I awake from my nap. I look at the clock. I have slept later than intended. I dress hurriedly and, as I do every Thursday evening, I go to have dinner with George and Mary.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say to George when he opens the door.

George stares at me. “Harry?”

“Hi George,” I say, walking past him. Mary is sitting on the couch. “Sorry I’m late. I lay down when I got home and just slept. I don’t usually just lie down and go off to sleep like that. But here I am, a little groggy, but none the worse for wear.“

Mary takes off her glasses and she looks at George. He slowly closes the front door, folds his arms and leans against the door. I notice the newspapers in Mary’s lap, newspapers scattered on the floor near the couch.

“I guess you figured I wasn’t coming,” I remark.

“Were we expecting you?” George asks.

I laugh, “Ha ha ha ha ha. You always expect me on Thursday evenings.”

“Thursday evening!” George and Mary exclaim.

“Harry,” Mary says gently, “this is Sunday evening.”

I look at Mary and then I look around the room. George walks toward me. “It’s Sunday evening, Harry.”

“You’d better sit down,” Mary suggests.

I sit next to Mary on the couch. I pick up a section of the newspaper and then I cast it aside. “So it’s Sunday evening, is it?”

George pulls up a chair close to the couch. He sits on the edge of the chair and leans toward me. Then George says, “Harry, this is Sunday evening. Not Thursday evening.”

“Of course it is,” I answer.

George picks up a section of the newspaper and pointing with his finger he indicates SUNDAY. “See, Harry? It’s Sunday, isn’t it Harry?”

“We always read the newspaper on Sunday evenings,” Mary says.

“When I awoke from my nap I rushed over here because I didn’t want to be late for dinner,” I explain.

“Well, it’s Sunday,” George says.

“I awoke and the first thing I thought, ‘I hope I’m not late for dinner with George and Mary.’ So I jumped out of bed. I was sure it was Thursday. I was sure I had just lain down after coming home from work.”

“It’s Sunday evening,” Mary says. “If it were Thursday evening I would have dinner prepared and I wouldn’t be wearing this old dress. I wear this old dress when I sit around and read the newspaper on Sunday evening. Have you ever seen me reading the newspaper on Thursday evening? Of course you haven’t. And look at George. George is unshaven. Have you ever seen George unshaven on Thursday evenings?”

“I never shave on Sundays,” George says.

“We never have company on Sunday evenings,” Mary says. “On Sunday evenings George and I sit together and we read the newspaper. We hardly talk to each other. We just relax and go to bed early.”

“You took us by surprise,” George says. “When I heard the knock on the door I said to Mary, ‘Who could that be?’ We never have company on Sunday evenings. And there you were. I was startled. ‘Is this really Harry?’ I asked myself when I opened the door. I’m sure you noticed how startled I was.”

“Yes,” I reply.

“You looked odd,” George says. “That’s why I said, ‘Harry?’ I wasn’t sure it was you.”

“You looked odd when you walked in the room,” Mary says. “When you walked toward me I wasn’t sure who you were. I said to myself, ‘He sure looks like Harry. But what’s Harry doing here on Sunday evening?’”

“I’ll see you both on Thursday evening,” I say as I get up.

“Where are you going?” Mary asks.

“Home, I’m going home.”

“See you on Thursday evening, Harry,” George says as he stands up and walks slowly toward the door.

“Wait a minute,” Mary says, reaching up and holding my hand. “Have you had dinner?”

“I was expecting to have dinner with you and George as I always do on Thursday evenings.”

“What do you usually do on Sunday evenings?” George asks.

“You still look a little strange, Harry,” Mary says. “You should have a little something to eat and some coffee to wake up a little more before you leave.”

“I don’t want to disturb your Sunday evening.”

“It’s no longer our typical Sunday evening,” George says.

“I never cook on Sundays, so you’ll have to help yourself,”Mary says.

“Let’s go into the kitchen and fix you a Sunday evening snack,” George says. “I’ll sit here and read the Sunday newspaper,” Mary says.

“Help yourself,” George says to me when we enter the kitchen. “Open the refrigerator and help yourself. We never cook dinner on Sunday evenings.

There are some leftovers from Saturday night’s dinner. Go ahead, Harry, help yourself.”

Then George begins to giggle. “Hee hee hee hee hee. Excuse me. I can’t help it. You don’t mind if I giggle, do you Harry? Hee hee hee hee hee. That’s Saturday night’s dinner, Harry. Don’t mind me. I’ll pull myself together. I’ll have a drink. Would you like a drink, Harry?”

“I’ll just have some coffee,” I say.

“Harry’s going to have some coffee and I’m going to have a drink,” George calls out to Mary. “Harry was going to have some of last night’s dinner but he’s changed his mind. Would you like a drink, dear?”

“I never drink on Sunday evenings,” Mary replies.

George says, “Come on, Harry, let’s have a drink. Coffee will only keep you awake. You’ll be up all night.”

“Okay George,” I say.

George pours two glasses of whisky and he calls out, “What shall we feed Harry for dinner on Thursday evening, Mary?”

“Please, George, right now I simply want to read the Sunday paper,” Mary says.

“I’m sorry, dear,” George says. “Cheers,” George says as he hands me the whisky. I drink it down in one toss and George does the same and then we go into the living room.

Mary puts aside the newspaper and takes off her glasses. “Well, Harry, how’s it going now?”

“I’ll be on my way.”

“You look a lot better,” Mary says. She stands up and embraces me. “I’m sorry it isn’t Thursday evening,” she says.

We all walk to the door. I open the door and step outside.

“It’s getting chilly,” Mary says.

“See you soon,” I say.

I start to walk down the path but George calls me back. “Hey, Harry!” I look back and I see George and Mary standing in the doorway. Then George walks toward me. He shakes my hand. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

SONNTAGABEND

Ich erwache aus meinem Mittagsschlaf. Ich schaue auf die Uhr. Ich habe länger geschlafen als geplant. Ich ziehe mich schnell an, und wie jeden Donnerstagabend gehe ich zu George und Mary zum Abendessen.

„Entschuldige, dass ich zu spät komme“, sage ich zu George, als er die Tür öffnet.

George starrt mich an. „Harry?“

„Hallo George“, sage ich und gehe an ihm vorbei. Mary sitzt auf der Couch. „Tut mir leid, dass ich zu spät bin. Ich habe mich hingelegt, als ich nach Hause kam, und bin eingeschlafen. Normalerweise lege ich mich nicht einfach hin und schlafe so wie heute. Aber hier bin ich, ein wenig benommen, aber bald hellwach.“

Mary nimmt ihre Brille ab und schaut zu George, während er langsam die Haustür schließt, seine Arme verschränkt und sich an die Tür lehnt. Ich bemerke die Zeitungen, die in Marys Schoß liegen, Zeitungen, verstreut auf dem Boden neben der Couch.

„Ich nehme an, ihr habt gedacht, dass ich heute Abend nicht komme“, bemerke ich.

„Haben wir dich erwartet?“, fragt George.

Ich lache: „Ha ha ha ha ha. Ihr erwartet mich doch immer am Donnerstagabend.“

„Donnerstagabend!“, rufen George und Mary.

„Harry“, sagt Mary sanft, „es ist Sonntagabend.“

Ich sehe Mary an und schaue mich im Raum um. George geht auf mich zu. „Es ist Sonntagabend, Harry.“

„Du solltest dich besser hinsetzen“, schlägt Mary vor.

Ich setze mich neben Mary auf die Couch, nehme einen Teil der Zeitung, dann werfe ich ihn zur Seite. „So, es ist also Sonntagabend?“

George zieht einen Stuhl zur Couch. Er sitzt auf der Stuhlkante und beugt sich zu mir. Dann sagt George: „Harry, es ist Sonntagabend, nicht Donnerstagabend.“

„Natürlich“, antworte ich.

George nimmt die Zeitung und zeigt mit dem Finger auf SONNTAG. „Siehst du, Harry? Guck mal, Harry! Es ist Sonntag, oder nicht, Harry?“

„Wir lesen die Zeitung immer am Sonntagabend“, sagt Mary.

„Als ich aus meinem Mittagsschlaf erwachte, ging ich sofort hierher, weil ich nicht zu spät zum Abendessen kommen wollte“, erkläre ich.

„Nun, es ist Sonntag“, sagt George.

„Ich wachte auf, und das Erste, was ich dachte: ‚Ich hoffe, ich komme nicht zu spät zum Abendessen mit George und Mary.‘ Ich sprang aus dem Bett. Ich war mir sicher, dass es Donnerstag war. Ich war mir sicher, dass ich mich einfach hingelegt hatte, nachdem ich von der Arbeit nach Hause gekommen war.“

„Es ist Sonntagabend“, sagt Mary. „Wenn es Donnerstagabend wäre, hätte ich das Abendessen vorbereitet, und ich würde dieses alte Kleid nicht tragen. Ich trage dieses alte Kleid, wenn ich am Sonntagabend bequem ...

Inhaltsverzeichnis

• Notes / Hinweise
• Epigraph / Motto
• About the author / Über den Autor
• Table of Contents / Inhaltsverzeichnis
• Heaven / Himmel
• Get Going / Losgehen
• Exit / Ausgang
• Stairs / Treppen
• Morning Coffee / Kaffee am Morgen
• The Bed / Das Bett
• Sand / Sand
• Curtains / Vorhänge
• Sunday Evening / Sonntagabend
• Hotel / Hotel
• Father Retires / Vater im Ruhestand
• A Place to Stay / Suche nach einer Unterkunft
• Red Dress / Rotes Kleid
• Jazz / Jazz
• Unborn Son / Ungeborener Sohn
• Self-Portrain with Death / Selbstporträt mit dem Tod
• Occurrence / Ereignis
• Shall We Squander / Sollen wir Vergeuden
• Because / Weil
• You’re Not Jackie / Du bist nicht Jackie
• Klaus / Klaus
• Sky / In den Himmel schauen
• Uncle / Onkel
• Gorillas / Gorillas
• The Boulder / Felsbrocken
• Sunset / Sonnenuntergang
• Last Dance / Der letzte Tanz
• Don’t Die / Sterbe Nicht
• Ironing / Bügeln
• Coming in Unexpectedly / Unerwartetes Hereinkommen
• Wrong Shoes / Verkehrte Schuhe
• Next / Der Nächste Bitte
• Wallets / Brieftasche
• Leaning / Anlehnen
• Therefore / Deshalb
• Awkward / Unbeholfen
• The Hermit and the Guitar / Der Einsiedler und die Gitarre
• Shadow / Schatten
• Again / Nochmal
• Exhiliration / Hochgefühl
• Copyright Page / Impressum