White Niggers
Chapter 64
Lisa's apartment complex, Vorgartenstraße 204, 2nd district of Vienna
Thursday, October 10th, 2019, 09:00
Lisa and her mother are having breakfast and talking. There is sliced cheese, ham, and bread on the table.
She is older than I remember, Lisa thinks. Weaker, that is, and less dangerous and closer to death.
I am wondering how she will experience old age, Lisa thinks. I guess poorly, given her personality. She could be like that boiling frog, except it will be her own narcissism and immaturity that will make the water boil.
Lisa puts water into the electric kettle and turns it on. On the table lies Kronen Zeitung – a newspaper could have been considered gutter press, if in Austria any other press existed.
Just remember the specific reason why you became a prodigal daughter, Lisa thinks. God saves those who save themselves.
"I'm getting kind of worried," Lisa's mother says.
"Why?" Lisa says.
The kettle turns off with a clicking sound. Lisa puts instant coffee into her mug and that of her mother, and pours the boiling water.
Lisa's mother stares somewhere into the space for a few moments.
"Sorry, continue," Lisa says.
"There are all sorts of strange men around the city," Lisa's mother says.
She leans over to Lisa.
"They say these are Nazis," Lisa's mother whispers to her.
Something happened to the domina masquerading as a teacher, Lisa thinks. The eyes still give you that narcissistic look. But I bet she senses some danger against which she is powerless. Or it is another of her manipulations? Seven years have passed and she is alive and kicking… sort of.
"Are they?" Lisa says.
"They sure look dangerous," Lisa's mother says. "All those tattoos and stuff. I go to the other side of the street if I see any one of them. Especially, if they are in a group."
She goes silent as if she is trying to remember something.
"Did you turn the kettle off?" Lisa's mother says. "If you forget to turn it off and the water boils away, there may be a fire."
"The kettle turned off itself and I poured you water from it," Lisa says. "Look, the mug with the coffee is right in front of you."
Lisa's mother looks at the mug, then at the tea kettle.
"Hm. Anyway, as I said, those Nazis do marches at night," Lisa's mother says. "Torches, swastikas, and whatnot."
"Does it happen often to you that you forget things?" Lisa says. "Did anybody mention it to you?"
"No, not at all," Lisa's mother says. "This is just an accident."
"How can you know it's just an accident, if you forget it?" Lisa says.
The doorbell rings.
"Let me answer it," Lisa says and goes to the door.
She returns in a few moments with a giant floral cascade. It looks as if its sender wanted to impress Lisa with the size and style. It's like a show with roses, peonies, and gardenias in main, lilies of the valley in the supporting roles.
It's a botanically encoded marriage proposal, Lisa thinks. There is only one man who could have sent it. My answer is "yes."
"How beautiful!" Lisa's mother says.
"I am wondering who sent it," Lisa says.
There is a note attached to the bouquet.