All The Names - Jose Saramago

the headmaster, I didn't know that her card was right there in that drawer, and you don't know that I spent
the night on your sofa. They went into the study, the headmaster said, I haven't got much time, but I'll do all
I can to help you, do sit down, and he indicated the sofa that had served as a bed to the visitor, I'd like to
know, said Senhor José, if anyone noticed any change in her normal state of mind in the days before the
suicide, None, she was always a very private person, very quiet, Was she a good teacher, One of the best
the school has had, Was she friends with any particular colleague, Friends in what sense, Just friends, She
was friendly, polite to everyone, but I don't think anyone here could say that they were friends with her,
And did her students respect her, Very much, Was she in good health, As far as I can judge, yes, Its
strange, What's strange, I've already spoken to her parents, and everything they said and everything I'm
hearing now seems to point to there being no explanation for this suicide, I wonder, said the headmaster, if
suicide can be explained, Do you mean this particular suicide, I mean suicide in general, Sometimes
people leave letters, That's true, but I'm not sure you could describe the contents of those letters as an
explanation, there's no shortage of things to explain in life, That's true, For example, what explanation
could there be for what happened here a few days before the suicide, What was that, The school was
burgled, Yes, How do you know, I'm sorry, my yes was intended to be interrogative, perhaps I didn't give
it the right intonation, but, anyway, burglaries are usually fairly easy to explain, Except when the burglar
climbs up onto the roof, breaks a window and then climbs in, wanders all over the place, sleeps on my
sofa, eats what there is in the fridge, uses the first-aid box and then leaves without taking anything, What
makes you think he slept on your sofa, Because on the floor was the blanket I usually cover my knees with
so as not to get cold, as you said of yourself, I'm not as young as I used to be, Did you report it to the
police, What for, since nothing had been stolen, it didn't seem worth it, the police would tell me that they
were there in order to investigate crimes, not to explain mysteries, It's certainly strange, there's no doubt
about it, We checked everywhere, all the equipment was there, the safe was intact, everything was in its
proper place, Except the blanket, Yes, except the blanket, now what explanation can you find for that,
You'd have to ask the burglar, he must know, having said those words, Senhor José got up, I won't rob you
of any more of your time, I'm very grateful for your help in the unfortunate matter that brought me here, I
don't know that I've been of much help, You were probably right when you said that perhaps no suicide
can be explained, Rationally explained, you understand, It was as if she had just opened a door and gone
out, Or gone in, Yes, or gone in, depending on your point of view, Well, there you have an excellent
explanation, It was a metaphor, Metaphors have always been the best way of explaining things, Goodbye,
sir, and my heartfelt thanks, Goodbye, it was a pleasure talking to you, I don't mean the sad matter in hand,
of course, I mean you yourself, Naturally, it was just a manner of speaking, I'll go with you to the stairs.
When Senhor José was going down the second flight of stairs, the headmaster suddenly remembered that
he hadn't asked him his name, No matter, he thought, that particular story's over.
The same could not be said of Senhor José, he still had to take the final step, to seek out and find in
the unknown woman's apartment a letter, a diary, a simple piece of paper on which she might have set
down her feelings, the scream, the I-can't-go-on that every suicide is under strict obligation to leave
behind before departing through that door, so that those left on this side can soothe the fears of their own
consciences saying, Poor thing, she had her reasons. The human spirit, though, how often do we need to
say it, is the favourite home of contradictions, indeed they do not seem to prosper or even find viable
living conditions outside it, and that must be why Senhor José wanders the city, from one side to the other,
up and down, as if lost without a map or a guide, for he knows perfectly well what he has to do on this
last day, he knows that tomorrow will be a different time, or that he will be the one who will be different
in a time exactly like this one, and the proof that he knows this to be so is the fact that he thought, Who
will I be tomorrow when this is all over, what kind of clerk is the Central Registry going to have. Twice
he passed by the unknown woman's apartment building, twice he did not stop, he was afraid, don't ask
why, this is the most common of contradictions, Senhor José both wants and doesn't want, he both de sires