Requiem by Antonio Tabucchi Read Free Book Online

the bed and folded down the sheet
     for me. Right, she said, the bed’s ready, would you like some company? No thanks,
     Viriata, I said, I just want to sleep for an hour and a half, I don’t need any company.
     I’m very clean and quiet, Viriata said, even if you want to sleep I won’t bother
     you, I’ll just lie next to you really still. Thanks again, I said, but I prefer to sleep
     alone. How about if I scratched your back?, said Viriata, wouldn’t you like to go to
     sleep with someone scratching your back? I smiled and said: Viriata, thank you, you’re a
     lovely girl, but I don’t need anyone to scratch my back, I just want to lie quietly for
     an hour and a half, I’m sorry, Viriata, but it’s not a very good day for me to
     have my back scratched, but listen, can you come and wake me up in an hour and a half,
     don’t forget now and I’ll give you a big tip. Viriata left silently. I lowered the
     blinds. The room was cool, the bed clean, I calmly got undressed, hung my trousers over the
     back of a chair, took off the gypsy woman’s Lacoste shirt and slid naked into bed, it
     was good to be there, the pillow was soft. I stretched out my legs and closed my eyes.
    How many letters are there in the Latin alphabet?,
     asked my father’s voice. I looked carefully and there in the half-light was my father.
     He was standing at the far end of the room, leaning on the dresser, watching me mischievously.
     He was in his sailor’s uniform, he looked about twenty-something, but he was definitely
     my father, there was no mistake about that. Dad, I said, what are you doing here in the
     Pensão Isadora, dressed as a sailor? What are
you
doing here?, he responded,
     it’s 1932, I’m doing my military service and my ship got into Lisbon today,
     it’s called the
Filiberto
, it’s a frigate. But why are you talking to me
     in Portuguese, Dad?, I said, and why when you appear to me do you always ask me absurd
     questions?, it’s as though you were putting me through an exam, last month you turned up
     to ask me when my mother was born, I can never remember dates, I get confused, I’m
     useless with numbers, Dad, but you’re always tormenting me with these questions. He
     said, I just want to see if you’re a good son, that’s all, that’s why I keep
     asking you questions, to see if you’re a good son. My Father as a Young Man took off his
     sailor’s hat and smoothed back his hair. He was good-looking, my Father as a Young Man,
     he had an honest face and lovely blonde hair. Look Dad, I said, to tell the truth, I
     don’t like these questions, these exams, you’ve got to stop appearing to me like
     this, whenever you fancy it, you’ve got to stop bothering me. Hang on a minute, he said,
     I’m here because I want to know something, I want to know how my life will end and
     you’re the only one who can know that, you’re living in the present, I want to
     know everything today, Sunday, 30th July 1932. What good will it do you to know?, I said, it
     won’t do you any good at all, life is whatever it’s going to be, there’s
     nothing you can do about it, let it be, Dad. No, no, said my Father as a Young Man, I’ll
     forget it the moment I leave the Pensão Isadora, there’s a girl waiting for me in
     Rua da Moeda, as soon as I leave here, I’ll forget everything, but I need to know now,
     that’s why I keep bothering you. All right, Dad, if that’s what you want, I said,
     your life ends badly, with cancer of the larynx, which is odd because you never smoked, but
     anyway, that’s how it is, you’re going to get cancer, and the surgeon who operates
     on you is the director of the clinic, a famous otolaryngologist, now there’s a word!,
     but in my opinion, the only thing the guy knows about is tonsils, I don’t think he
     understands a thing about cancer. And then?, asked my Father as a Young Man. And then you stay
     in the hospital for a month, I spend the nights with you because the