Alice by Judith Hermann Read Free Book Online

was called. Lotte had said they should have supper there, drink a glass of wine, and leave the shopping until tomorrow. She asked Alice to introduce Anna and the Romanian to her,but seemed absent-minded and rather apathetic, giving them only a quick and knowing glance. She had apologised for Conrad’s indisposition and had postponed their celebratory meal together until the following day. The Romanian had been exceptionally obliging and charming, Anna had been, too; she just wasn’t able to hide her preference for leaving all this, to desert so she could be on her own. Lotte had taken note of this, casually but accurately. She also took note of the pigtail. The broken tooth. The neckline of Anna’s dress, and what all these things said about Alice. All three of them had revealed themselves.
    They walked peaceably next to each other. The Romanian in the middle, Anna on his left, Alice on his right. And you’ll order for us, Alice said. You’re going to take care of all that. Wine and olives and sardines and bread. And tomorrow you’ll go to the barber. And have your hair cut. By a barbiere. Alice felt her head would burst if she couldn’t immediately have a glass of wine to drink. The Romanian handled everything with ease. Playfully. Ironically. He picked a table near the street, a round table with a white tablecloth, set under a lemon tree on the pebble strip in the small garden in front of the
ristorante
. He greeted the waiters and answered their stock phrases,
buon giorno
,
come va
,
bene, grazie
,
bene, grazie
,
benissimo
; he flipped open the menus and closed them, recapitulated the vineyards, vintages, grape varieties. Alice closed her eyes. Then drank the red wine. They ate sardines and peppers and little slices of white bread soaked in olive oil. The Romanian talked about his childhood summer holidays. Weeks spent on the easternshore of the lake, on the opposite side, at a campground. They had stayed in a caravan with a tent and plastic chairs, waking every morning, getting up, and heading straight for the lake, swimming far out. Thunder, the gathering and passing of thunderstorms. Black mould on the walls of the caravan, like filigree blossoms. Rubber boots, rain jackets, and instead of sweets, sucking grainy Instant Tea powder till your tongue was thick and bloated. Suntan oil. Algae on the water. Fog. Once they had gone up the mountain in the cable car, actually finding snow on top, a lunar landscape, grey rocks and the air very thin; then, back down in the cable car, into the insane certainty of the heat. In the evening, playing canasta with cards swollen from the humidity. Rummy. Bridge. Clammy sleeping bags. Mosquitoes swarming around the camping lantern and the smell of paraffin, the smoking wick.
    And I still remember what it was like, the Romanian said. It’s long ago, but I remember exactly what it was like. Alice thought that the Romanian was a happy man in Italy. She didn’t know why, but it was easy to see. He went into raptures. His ears stuck out; his face glowed.
    It’s just the way of life here, Anna said, shrugging; she raised her glass of wine and said,
Salute
, and, Look, there’s Lotte. She pointed to the street, where Lotte was just getting out of her car in the orange light of the street lamp.
    Alice pushed her chair back and got up, but remained standing by the table until Lotte reached them. In the crunching of the pebbles and the sound of the other diners’ voices there was a lane of silence, through which Lotte walkedtowards their table. Lotte gestured with her left hand for them to stay, Don’t get up, please. It’s nothing, she said, but Conrad is feeling somewhat worse; we’re driving to the hospital. They’ll probably send us home again. Still, I feel better going there. His fever is very high … What did you have to eat? Aha, sardines. The sardines are very good at the Nuovo Ponte. But next time you have to order squid,