by Peter Stamm
Marcella emerged from the hotel, said good night, and unlocked her bike. Good night, he said, and Marcella waved and rode off.
Bruno looked at the old oil painting that hung next to the front desk. He had almost forgotten it existed, even though he went past it at least twice a day. It was a farewell scene in the golden light of a breaking storm. The man was wearing chain mail and some sort of surcoat. His hair was braided and he had a drooping mustache that gave his appearance something Oriental, a Fu Manchu mustache. He would be gone a long time, perhaps he was going on a Crusade, perhaps he would never return to the castle on the lake, and to the woman in the long flowing robes. When he started at the hotel, Bruno had often stood in front of the painting. He had kissed the woman and set out into the storm full of joyful expectation. Now all he could see was pain and the inevitability of parting.
The student called a little after eleven. Bruno told him not to bother anymore. He was annoyed, even though there was nothing he could blame the student for. Bruno waited, looked at the wall clock, sat down at his desk, got up again. He fetched the bottle of grappa from the cabinet that he had been given for Christmas by a regular at the hotel, and hadn’t opened. It was a good make, the guest had said, but Bruno didn’t care for grappa. He poured himself a water glass full and drank it down. He shuddered. He filled the glass a second time. He picked up the phone, put it down again. What was he going to tell Olivia? The truth? And what was the truth? That he didn’t want to come home. That he didn’t want to spend this last evening with her and her false concern and her useless chatter. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if she changed his bandage again, ruffled his hair like a little boy’s. He wasn’t a little boy, he was an old man, maybe a man with a deadly disease. And he wanted to spend the evening by himself, without lies and without comfort.
He called Olivia and said he wasn’t coming home. The student couldn’t make it, and there had to be somebody at reception.
Can’t be helped, he said. Olivia asked if he’d eaten anything, and said he ought to lie down. Good night, said Bruno, and hung up.
The two women came back just before midnight. They were unaccompanied, but clearly exuberant. They laughed loudly as they walked up the stairs. A little later, Bruno locked the front entrance. If anyone came along, they would have to ring the bell. Bruno could have lain down now, but he walked through the deserted hallways, and went out through a side exit into the grounds. The swimming pool glistened blackly in the darkness. Bruno switched on the underwater lighting, and the pool shone azure. He loved that color, and the coolness and cleanness and the faint smell of chlorine. The pool was the real glory of the hotel, not the decorated rooms or the gourmet menus or the lounge musicians who sometimes played here on weekends. The pool was different from the lake where he usually swam, it was detached from the natural scene and from daily life. It represented a life he would never live, but that didn’t bother him. It was enough that there were some people who did live like that, and that he was near them, and provided service for them. It had never occurred to him to spend his holidays in the hotel, though probably he could have afforded it.
Bruno stood by the side of the pool. Then, not really knowing what he was doing, he began to undress. Slowly and gingerly he went down the shallow tiled steps, leaning forward as though about to plunge into the water. It was cool, but not cold. He stood there and looked at his naked body, which was yellow and pale in the bluish light. Then he lowered himself into the water and swam to the far end of the pool. He swam back and forth, feeling first a little warmer, then cold again. He got out of the pool and brushed the water from his body with his hands, and got dressed. He was aroused, almost euphoric, and felt like laughing or crying.
Bruno slept on the couch in a nook on the second-floor landing. He had wild dreams he was unable to remember later. When it grew light outside, he didn’t feel he’d slept at all. His head ached and he was still a little dizzy from the grappa. He put the half-empty bottle back in the cabinet. Then he went to the bathroom, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth out. The cold water refreshed him a little. He went down to the restaurant, which was still closed at this hour. It took a long time for the water in the coffee machine to heat up. Only then did it occur to him that he’d had nothing to eat since yesterday lunchtime. In a drawer he found some cut bread, and there were little individually wrapped pats of butter and cheese in the fridge.
His colleague got in at half past six. He explained to her that Sergio was sick, and she said Bruno should have called her. He merely shook his head. Then he called Olivia. It took a few rings before she picked up. He could hear the radio in the background. He thought of her eating her breakfast by herself, the way she always did when he was on night duty and she let him sleep in. She will eat breakfast by herself all the time now, he thought, she will have to get used to it. And suddenly he felt sorry for her, and he was ashamed of himself.
Did you sleep well? he asked.
Not really, replied Olivia. She said the house felt cold.
Then why didn’t you turn the heat on? he said. I’m on my way.
Did you get your result? she asked.
This afternoon, said Bruno. But it’s nothing. It won’t be anything.
We’re Flying
SIX O’CLOCK CAME and went, but Angelika wasn’t really worried. She brought out the garage, but Dominic didn’t want to play anymore. He sat quietly on her lap and leaned his head against her breast. The last couple of times the bell rang, he had gone running to the door, only to come back with shoulders drooping, because it was some other child’s mother or father. All the parents knew Dominic, because he was usually already there in the morning when they dropped off their own children and still there when they picked them up at night. They said hello to him, and thanked him for opening the door. They asked him vaguely if he’d played nicely that day. Then as soon as they saw their own children, they beamed and forgot all about Dominic.
Shall we look at a picture book together? Dominic merely shook his head. When Angelika stood up and set him down on the ground, he held on to her leg. She said she was going to call his home. Let me go, she said. He wouldn’t let go. She was annoyed, not with him, but with his parents, and she felt bad about taking out her irritation on him. She was tired and wanted to go home. Benno was coming at half past seven, and she wanted to shower first and relax a bit. She looked at the clock. It was twenty past six.
She broke Dominic’s grip and stepped away from him. He was lying in the corner, screaming now, and she tried to call his parents. She dialed all the numbers she found in the book: home numbers, office numbers, and both mobile phones, but no one picked up. She left messages. She made no effort to conceal her irritation. After that was done she felt a little calmer. She went across to Dominic, leaned down over him, and patted him on the shoulder. Someone would be along soon.
Dominic asked if it would be his mama or his papa who was coming. Angelika said she wasn’t sure, but one or the other would be there any minute. Dominic asked if any minute was now. No, said Angelika. When was any minute? Now? No, any minute was soon. Now? Not yet. She would tell him. She lifted him off the ground and carried him to the sofa. He took hold of her again. Is now soon? She didn’t reply. She was busy doing things, tidying away the last of the toys, opening the windows to let in some fresh air. At seven she called Benno and said she was running late. They agreed to make it half past eight. Dominic sat rigidly on the red sofa and didn’t take his eyes off her.
Usually it was his mother who brought him to nursery school and his father who picked him up. He always came at the last moment, sometimes he was late, but this time he was more than an hour late. Angelika’s annoyance had lessened. Now she was beginning to worry. She felt uneasy, she felt threatened, she didn’t know how or why. I’m going to leave in five minutes, she thought to herself, and in five minutes she thought the same thing. She called her boss but got no reply. She wondered about calling the police to ask if there’d been an accident so
mewhere, but then she decided not to. She wrote a note to Dominic’s parents to say she had taken the boy home with her. She left her cell phone number at the bottom. She shut the windows and bundled Dominic up in his jacket and hat and shoes, and took him by the hand. When she’d locked up, she realized she’d forgotten the note, and she had to go back in again to get it and attach it to the door.
She was often out and about in the city with the children, going to the zoo or the lake or a playground near the day care. But this was different. She felt she was with her own child, and she felt oddly proud—as though taking a child by the hand were somehow difficult. Dominic was quiet, who knew what was going on in his head. He sat down next to her in the streetcar and looked out the window. After a couple of stops, he began asking questions. He pointed to a woman and asked, Why is that woman wearing a hat? Because it’s cold. Why is it cold? It’s winter. Why? Look at the little dog, said Angelika. Why is the dog little? Just because, she said, there are big dogs and little dogs. Are we going home? asked Dominic. Yes, said Angelika, we’re going home. Home to my home.
At the station they had to wait. The bus was late, so they stood in the dark and waited. It had been raining in the afternoon, and the car headlights glistened on the wet asphalt. At least Angelika had tomorrow off. She wanted to go to IKEA with Benno and buy a cabinet for her shoes. She had looked at the catalog and knew exactly which model.
For a while Dominic didn’t say anything. When she bent down to look at him, he suddenly stood up on one foot and swiveled on his own axis like a ballet dancer. He spread his arms, and turned around and around until he was wobbling. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, completely lost in his funny dance. His face was earnest and concentrated. Watch out, said Angelika, here comes the bus. I’m flying, said Dominic.
Angelika lived in a suburb on the edge of town, in a five-story tenement from the 1980s. At the time she moved to the city, she hadn’t been able in her hurry to find anything better, and after a while she had gotten used to it, she no longer heard the noise from the airport, and it was close to the forest where she liked to go jogging in summer. Lots of families with children lived here. Eventually Angelika would have children too. She had never discussed it with Benno, and didn’t even know how he felt about it. But one thing was for sure: he wouldn’t want to live out here. He let her know that each time he came to visit her. Most of the time they met at his place. Only when Angelika was at work late did he sometimes agree to sleep over at hers.
She was amazed by how naturally Dominic followed her up the stairs. On the second floor he even overtook her and charged on ahead. When she stopped in front of her door, he was half a flight up, and she had to call him back. Then suddenly he didn’t want to go down the stairs alone, and she had to lead him down.
He stopped in the hall and waited patiently while she took off his wet shoes and his jacket. She asked him if he was hungry. He nodded, and she went in the kitchen to see what she had in the fridge. She cooked some pasta, with sauce out of a jar. While he ate, she flicked through the free newspaper she’d picked up on the streetcar. Dominic was ravenous, cramming the noodles into his mouth with both hands. When she asked him to use a fork, he said he didn’t know how. But you manage it at nursery, she said. He pretended to try. Then, when she told him off again, he started to wail. Don’t be so silly, said Angelika. Dominic pushed his plate away with a jerk and upset his glass. The water spilled over the table and the newspaper. Can’t you watch what you’re doing? snapped Angelika, and got up to get a paper towel.
Suddenly her apartment looked ugly and inhospitable to her. No wonder Benno didn’t like coming here. She remembered her childhood and the home of her parents, that cozy old house. At the time she had the feeling nothing bad could happen to her in that house, as though it had always been there and would always be there, a refuge and a protection for her. When her parents said a few years ago that they wanted to sell it and move into an apartment, she couldn’t believe it. Her father had trouble walking, and her mother said neither of them was getting any younger, and the garden was a lot of work, and what were they both doing, rattling around all alone in that big old house. Angelika said nothing. Her parents hired movers to handle the move. She asked herself if she would ever manage to offer a child such a home. It seemed to her she didn’t have the confidence, the security, or the love.
They were still at table when Angelika heard the key in the door. Hello, Benno called from the hall. He appeared in the doorway of the living room, stopped, and said, Well, who do we have here? Angelika explained. Is he going to sleep in our bed? Benno asked with a grin. Because if he is, I can pack up and go home. Angelika said she was sure it was just a misunderstanding. Misunderstanding? said Benno. People leave their kid somewhere, and it’s a misunderstanding? He sat down with them at table. Dominic stared at him, and Benno stared back, with the same look of astonishment. Perhaps they flew away, he said. Do you think your parents could have flown away? He flapped his arms like a bird. Dominic said nothing, and Benno asked if there was anything left to eat. I thought you would have eaten already. Not really, said Benno. Angelika said she could make him some spaghetti. Do you want some more? she asked Dominic. He nodded.
When she brought the spaghetti into the living room ten minutes later, Benno and Dominic were sitting on two sofa cushions on the floor. Dominic was sitting behind Benno and had his arms around his waist. Benno leaned his upper body forward and to the side and back, and was making droning sounds. Dominic was laughing wildly and copying his movements. We’re flying, said Benno.
Angelika put the spaghetti on the table and fetched cutlery and a clean plate. Come on, she said, supper’ll get cold. Again she thought of her childhood, where such a sentence must have fallen a thousand times, though she seemed only now to understand it. Benno got up. He had his arms out and was still flying. He made for the table. Dominic was holding onto his belt and allowed himself to be towed. He was skipping up and down with delight. Suddenly Benno spun around and grabbed the boy and plopped him on a chair. There, he said, we have to eat something, the plane’s run out of fuel.
Angelika watched the two of them eating. Now it was Dominic’s turn to copy Benno. He had his head low over his plate and shoveled forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth, all the while squinting at Benno. Angelika looked at her boyfriend, who seemed unaware of it. He’s like a kid himself, she thought. Maybe that was why he was so good with them. She had had a couple of occasions to witness it, when he had picked her up from nursery school. In some ways he struck her as almost being younger than Dominic, who seemed to be aware of everything that was going on, and thought it through and asked questions. Benno didn’t ask any questions. He came here, ate, slept with her, and went away the next day. She couldn’t imagine him as a father. But then most of the men who came to pick up their kids at day care weren’t fathers either. They talked to the kids as if they were kids themselves, and fooled around, and when you asked them something they shrugged their shoulders.
Do I get a beer? Benno asked, and then he asked Dominic, Hey man, do you want a beer? No-o-o, said Dominic emphatically, beer is for grownups.
After supper, Dominic wanted to fly some more, but Benno said the plane had mechanical trouble. He sat on the sofa and switched on the TV. Angelika cleared the table. She brought Dominic a few toys she kept in the apartment for her nephews and nieces. Then she sat down next to Benno, who was watching a cop show. Suddenly she felt very much alone.
Dominic played uncertainly with Legos, and kept looking up at them on the sofa. Benno had put his feet up on the coffee table, and had his arm around Angelika. He undid the top button of her blouse. Stop that, she said, but he carried on, and shoved his hand down her front. When she tried to get up, he held her down. I’m not going to let that runt spoil my fun, he said, and he took off her blouse. If he says anything, I’m out of a job, said Angelika. Benno kissed her on the mouth and talked at the same time, she didn’t know what he was saying. He must have seen
things at his parents’, he said, and anyhow he had to learn sometime. Angelika tried to forget about Dominic, but she couldn’t. She remembered how he had cried on the stairs. He had looked at her as though it was her fault his parents weren’t coming. I don’t like him, she thought, actually I don’t like any of them. She lay on the sofa and embraced Benno. He laughed and thrust his hand between her legs. When he tried to undo her belt, she pushed him away. He allowed himself to fall to the floor, and lay there on his back, next to Dominic.
Do you want to fly? he asked the boy, who was staring at him in utter bewilderment. He grabbed him and lifted him onto his belly, where he began tickling him. Dominic squirmed, but he didn’t laugh. He assumed the serious expression he had had during his dance at the bus stop. Angelika sat up, straightened her bra, and pulled on her blouse. She felt ashamed of herself.
Do you know where babies come from? Benno asked. Dominic said he had come out of his mama’s belly. But do you know how you got in there? asked Benno. I was so small, said Dominic, I was as small as this, and he pinched his finger and thumb together.
Just before nine, Dominic’s mother called. Angelika jumped, as she always did when her cell phone rang. The woman’s voice sounded half annoyed, half embarrassed. She apologized. Her husband had a late meeting that he hadn’t told her about. Angelika could hear his voice in the background, protesting. At any rate, we each thought the other was doing it. They were at the day care, and were on their way here. Angelika gave them directions, with a lot of difficulty. Well, we’ll be there soon, said the mother. Dominic’s fine, said Angelika. Yes, of course, said the mother with a little laugh, I didn’t doubt it. I’ll see you in twenty minutes, half an hour, maybe.
She’s a lawyer, said Angelika.
Is she good-looking? asked Benno. Rich?