Tomorrow Pamplona

by Jan Van Mersbergen

  *

  He gritted his teeth and pounded the punch bag, which swung on its chains. Left, left, right hook. His gloves thudded against the blue leather.

  You don’t have to go all out, said Ron.

  Danny jabbed again. Left, left, right hook, in rapid succession. His gloves flashed. He was sweating. He jabbed again and kept on jabbing until the bell went and he sat down a short distance away from the punch bag, his eyes still focused on the leather.

  I’ll just keep my mouth shut then, said Ron.

  He’d arranged to meet her after the training session at a café close to the boxing school. Danny’s hair was still damp from the shower. He had an orange juice and Ragna drank red wine. She smoked a cigarette and asked him how it had gone that evening.

  Well, he said.

  Did you leave the other guy in one piece?

  Yeah.

  Are you on schedule?

  He nodded.

  How long is it now? About six weeks, right?

  Seven.

  He had nothing else to say to her. He emptied his glass. After a while, he said: I’m tired.

  They stood up and walked out together.

  If it’s okay with you, he said, I’m going home. To sleep.

  Have a rest, she replied. You need it.

  She kissed him and they walked together to her bike. She undid the lock, clicked it back together, hung it over her handlebars and turned the bike around. Then she swore. What’s wrong? he asked.

  Puncture.

  She looked at the back wheel. He pressed the tyre to the rim with his thumb.

  Want me to go in and see if they’ve got a pump?

  Yeah, please.

  He took a look at the wheel. No point, he said. The valve’s gone.

  I’ll just have to walk.

  Want me to go with you? I can come back for my bike later, Danny said.

  Thought you were tired.

  I’ll manage.

  Just go home and sleep, she said, and kissed him again. She turned the bike and pushed it down the pavement past the café. Danny headed in the other direction. When he reached the corner, he stopped and turned around. He could see her in the distance, walking past the park, going round the corner. He retraced his steps. At the corner, he stopped to watch her again. She was walking down the side of the park, past the houses. Danny followed her at a distance, walking down the narrow pavement beneath the trees. She went down the street until she reached the water, where she cut through behind the parked cars, crossed the canal, tugged her bike up onto the opposite pavement, and then headed down the other side of the water towards the petrol station. From there, she followed the wide road with the tramline. Danny went after her, but kept his distance. He had an idea where she might be heading. His heart was thumping, but it wasn’t from walking.

  She took a side street that led to another canal and stopped at the fourth lamppost. She leant her bike against the lamppost, locked it up and disappeared into the porch.

  He stopped opposite the house, by the water, hidden behind a van. He stood beneath a huge ash tree. He saw the light on the first floor go on. Then it went out and the light on the second floor came on and someone closed the curtains.

  Working? he muttered. Like hell.

  He walked back along the dark canal. He took the valve out of his trouser pocket and threw it into the water.

  *

  The air in the hospital corridor seems perfectly still. The doctor who took the X-rays comes over to the bench where Danny’s sitting and asks, in perfect English: Would you please be so kind as to inform his family?

  Danny shrugs.

  He can’t do it himself. He has to go to the plaster room.

  But I don’t know his family.

  The doctor glances down the empty corridor. Then he looks back at Danny and shrugs. Okay, I’ll do it, Danny says.

  The doctor hands him the clipboard. You can phone from there, he says, pointing at a counter along the corridor before hurrying away. Robert has already filled in his name, address and telephone number. With the code for the Netherlands in front. Danny goes over to the counter. The receptionist looks up at him and he sees that she has thick, dark eyebrows. He asks if he can use the phone. She points at it and goes back to shuffling her papers. Danny dials the number. The phone rings a few times.

  Hello. The hesitant voice of a young boy.

  Could I speak to your mum?

  Who is it?

  My name’s Danny. I’d like to speak to your mum.

  Who is it? The little boy’s voice grows faint. A clicking sound echoes down the line and then he hears another voice: Hello, this is Manuela. Sorry about that.

  Yeah, hello, says Danny. I’m calling about your husband.

  The girl at the counter looks up. Danny turns away.

  And you are?

  Danny. I hitched a lift with him.

  Oh yes, he mentioned you, she says. Her tone is cool, but her breathing has become more rapid. Then she pulls herself together.

  What’s happened?

  He’s broken his leg.

  She gasps. Broken?

  He can hear both fear and relief in her voice. Danny lets the relief sink in, ignores the fear, and says: They’re putting it in plaster.

  So what happens now?

  He can hear the children playing in the background, the high-pitched voice of a little girl: Daddy, Daddy. Just a moment, says Manuela. She tells the children to be quiet. So what happens now? she asks again. Will he have to stay there?

  I don’t know.

  When will you find out?

  Probably later today, says Danny.

  She hesitates, then says: Could you call again when you know? Tell me what’s happening?

  Danny doesn’t reply.

  Will you do that?

  Yes, he replies quietly. They say goodbye. He hangs up and thanks the receptionist with the dark eyebrows. She smiles. He walks back down the corridor. Robert’s lying on the bed, waiting.

  Did you call her?

  Yes. She asked what had happened.

  What did you say?

  That you’ve broken your leg.

  Anything else?

  She asked when you’ll be back.

  Didn’t you tell her anything else?

  No.

  They are silent. A man appears and signals that he has to take Robert with him. He takes the brake off and pushes the bed out of the room.

  *

  Danny goes through the sliding doors, out into the bright sunlight, and shades his eyes with his hand. The hospital is in a residential district. No sign of the cathedral. He walks around the building. There’s a car park to the west of the hospital, with an industrial estate beyond. Danny walks down the path, between large potted plants whose leaves hang dry and limp on clay pellets. He goes around two corners and sees the town centre. When he finds a nice spot in the shade, he stops and gazes out over the red roofs and cathedral towers.

  The sun moves on and the light falls on his face, warming his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and sits for a long time, leaning against the wall. Over an hour later, he heads back inside, but the curtained room is empty and there’s no one around who might be able to tell him something. He goes back outside, sits in the same spot and waits. All that time, he thinks about his conversation with Robert’s wife. The concern in her voice. The children screaming in the background. He thinks about Robert and about the car. He knows what he has to do.

  A man comes shuffling down the path.

  Estás bien?

  Sorry? Danny says, standing up.

  Everything okay? the man asks in English. His voice sounds hoarse.

  Fine.

  And your friend?

  He’s going to be okay.

  Has he gone to the – what do you call it? – for the plaster.

  Yes.

  The man’s wearing an open dressing gown. His body is pale and thin. An old, hairless chest. Danny only notices now that he’s holding onto a
rickety-looking drip stand. The man says: I saw you come in. I saw his leg. Is it broken?

  Yes.

  The man moves closer. The wheels of the drip stand squeak along the pavement. He stops beside Danny in the narrow strip of shade and says: The doctor told me I only had another four weeks to live.

  Danny breathes out through his nose. He says: Four weeks?

  Sí, says the man. That was six years ago.

  He’s holding onto the stand as though he needs the support. Maybe he wants to show Danny how shaky it is or how shaky he is himself. Then the man says: Your friend’s leg is going to be fine.

  The man looks up at the sky. Danny does the same.

  Six years, the man repeats. I wanted to go to La Palma. With my children and grandchildren. For Christmas. Well, I’ve been there the past five years and I’m going again in December. I’ve already booked the house.

  Danny looks down. He places his hand on his chest and feels his heart beating. He looks at the thin old man. The man coughs.

  The doctor didn’t know I wanted to go to La Palma.

  You went with your children?

  And my seven grandchildren.

  Danny hesitates. What if your situation had been different?

  What do you mean?

  What if you hadn’t had any children?

  But I do have children.

  But what if you didn’t? Can you imagine what that would be like?

  The man purses his lips. It’s hard for me to imagine, he says. I suppose the doctor might just have been right then.

  They both look down at the town. The air above the buildings ripples in the sun.

  I’m going back inside.

  Tell your friend he’s going to be fine.

  I will.

  Danny steps away from the wall. The man turns to follow. One of the wheels gets caught in the paving slabs and the stand judders and then comes free. They say goodbye. Danny heads inside. Robert is waiting in a wheelchair in the curtained room. His leg is in plaster up to the knee, and his ruined jeans are fastened around it with safety pins. Six weeks, he says.

  Six weeks.

  I’ve got to wait for the doctor, says Robert.

  Danny sits down and they wait in silence for the doctor. When he comes, he tells them they’re free to go. They shake his hand and say goodbye and the doctor disappears again through the curtains.

  Could you push me outside?

  *

  The doorbell echoed down the corridor, three times in quick succession. Then a short silence, followed by another ring, a long one this time. He stayed where he was, sitting on the edge of his bed. He swallowed. Another ring, louder and longer than before. He picked up his jogging bottoms from the floor and was about to put them on, but changed his mind. He waited. The phone rang. He stared at it as it rang four times before switching to the answering machine. He listened to his own voice and to the beep.

  It’s me, I’m at the door.

  Silence, rustling, a car driving past.

  Are you in? Please pick up. Danny. She sighed. Danny, came the voice again through the speaker.

  He walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver and turned off the answering machine. He didn’t say anything.

  Are you there?

  Yes.

  Could you open the door?

  He was silent.

  Danny, open the door.

  Are you on your own?

  Yes, she said firmly.

  He pulled on his jogging bottoms, gave his T-shirt a sniff, tucked it in, fastened the drawstring of his jogging bottoms and slid his feet into his trainers. Without doing up the laces, he headed down the four flights of stairs. She was standing in the porch, her hands on the frosted glass, her face between them, peering in. He turned the key and opened the door. Ragna stepped back.

  Can I come in?

  He looked around, rubbed his temples: So you didn’t bring him with you?

  Who?

  You know very well.

  Just let me come in for a moment.

  He looked at her.

  What were you doing over at his place?

  I work for him.

  That late? With the lights off? Right.

  He started to close the door.

  Wait.

  Her hand was on the doorframe. Danny held onto the door.

  I can explain.

  He opened the door a little wider, looked into her eyes and saw what he wanted to see. He held the door open for her. Ragna followed him upstairs in silence. When they reached his flat, she stopped just inside the door.

  I heard you’re not training.

  He said: What difference does it make? His voice was harsh.

  She looked at the table, at the chairs. Sat down. Putting both hands on the table, she slowly said: I can explain about Mr Varon.

  What’s with the ‘Mr’?

  A brief silence.

  He brought me here.

  Danny stopped in the middle of the room and listened.

  She said: He’s like a father to me.

  He brought you here?

  Yes.

  Where did you meet him?

  In Thailand, at a boxing gala.

  She told him that she had been born in northern Thailand, but ended up in Bangkok when she was still very young. She’d met Gerard Varon at the fights in Pattaya. The next time he was there he asked her to come back to the Netherlands with him.

  And you went with him? Just like that?

  After some … negotiation.

  Negotiation? With your family, you mean?

  She thought for a moment. With the people who looked after me.

  Your foster family?

  You could call them that, she said. I left for the Netherlands. Wheeled him onto the plane and off again. I learned the language. I learned about the people.

  She paused for a moment.

  Life’s good here, she said. In spite of the cold.

  Why did he take you with him?

  He didn’t want to abandon me.

  And it was that simple?

  She nodded.

  I thought there was something going on between the two of you.

  Ragna spread out her hands on the tabletop and then brought them back together. She shook her head as she looked at him. You know he’s paralyzed from the waist down? she said.

  So?

  She held her hand level with her navel and said: Nothing works beneath this point.

  Danny put his hands in his pockets. He went and stood beside her. Everything was clear.

  You’d better start training again.

  Is that what you came to tell me?

  That’s my job.

  Ragna got up and went over to him. She raised one hand to his neck and stroked his stubble.

  Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.

  Her eyes told him she meant it.

  Doesn’t matter.

  She reached for her cigarettes. She took one from the packet and lit it. He fetched an ashtray from the kitchen and put it on the table. Watched as she took a drag.

  Sorry, she repeated. Her voice was quiet.

  Later that evening, he ordered two pizzas and they ate together at the table. He asked her about Thailand and her foster family. She said: I’d like to go back, but not for good.

  He nodded.

  She asked him where he came from.

  I’ve travelled around a lot.

  Far?

  No. We were with the fair. We never went very far, just Holland and Belgium, but we were in a different place every week.

  Do you still see your family?

  Not often. My parents live quite close, but I don’t visit them much.

  When they’d finished eating, Ragna asked if she could stay.

  He said she could.

  They made love. She fell asleep in his arms. He looked up at the beams, ran his hand over his legs, his stomach, his cock. He felt big and strong, but at the same time a feeling of lightness rose up within him, a feeling like
the shiver during a fight when he’d landed that final jab and his muscles were about to relax and he’d look at his opponent and hold on to the tension in his body until it was all over. But now, in his attic room, that feeling lasted much longer.

  *

  Danny hoists Robert’s rucksack onto his back and pushes the wheelchair into the corridor and out of the building, across the car park in front of the hospital. He holds on tight to the handles. The wheelchair rolls easily, as though it’s empty, but the rubber handles feel heavy in his hands. He grips so hard that his forearms hurt.

  They go over a hump and he holds back the wheelchair as they roll down the other side.

  That way, says Robert.

  Danny doesn’t respond.

  It’s that way.

  Just going down the kerb.

  He pushes the wheelchair between two parked cars and onto the road, crosses over, and bumps it back up onto the pavement. The sun is behind him, burning his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a moment.

  The road goes uphill and around a corner. When they reach the top of the hill, Danny stops and looks at the downhill slope, with its parked cars, lampposts along both sides, a few rubbish bins, a letterbox. A wall painted yellow. He lets go of the handles. The wheelchair stays where it is.

  *

  Following Robert’s directions, he goes down a large road to a roundabout, takes one of the exits and comes to the bridge. Danny sees the town lying to their right in the blazing sun. Once they’re on the other side of the bridge, he recognizes the wide street and little side roads. He pushes the wheelchair around a corner and sees the car standing there, beside the tree. Robert takes the keys out of his pocket and asks Danny to open the door and help him into the car.

  You can’t drive with that leg.

  Just help me.

  It’s not going to work.

  I want to try.

  With that leg?

  It’s in plaster. It’ll be fine.

  Wouldn’t you rather stay in a hotel?

  No.

  Danny supports Robert as he hops to the car on his left leg and sits on the edge of the driver’s seat. Swearing, he forces his knee under the steering wheel. He puts the key in the ignition and turns it. The engine roars to life. Robert rests his plaster cast on the pedal and tries to put his foot down. He moves his hand to the gearstick and looks down at his leg. Leaning forward, he uses both hands to shift his foot, staring in concentration at the windscreen. He tries again to push the pedal down, but his heel’s too bulky and he can’t apply any pressure.