Judith Hermann - Alice

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 walked towards 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, grilled.

Can I talk to Conrad, just briefly? Alice asked.

Of course, Lotte said.

Conrad was sitting in the front seat, the seat back had been lowered to a reclining position; he was lying rather than sitting, but he wore a neatly pressed, elegant, light-coloured shirt and smiled mockingly at Alice’s worried expression. She opened the car door and they shook hands. He held her hand in both of his. His hands were dry and hot. Dear Alice. He said, We didn’t imagine it would be like this, did we? Seeing each other again, I mean. But that’s just the way it is, and tomorrow things will be better. It’s such an odd coincidence. Perhaps I got too excited about your arrival.

Alice said nothing. She let her hand remain in his. He looked past her towards the table where the Romanian and Anna were sitting, and said, So there they are, the friends I don’t know. He squinted slightly. Dark Anna and the Romanian. We’ll say hello tomorrow. Are you all right?

Yes, Alice said, her voice serious. All drunkenness, exhausted nervousness, and irritation were suddenly gone. We’re doing fine, Conrad. I only wish you were feeling better.

I am feeling better, Conrad said. The admissions people at the hospital will send me right back home again. Lotte’s worried, that’s all.

Lotte got into the car, closed the door, pulled the seat belt over her shoulder and turned the key in the ignition. A transparent rock hung down from the key chain, shaped like a large teardrop. Conrad let go of Alice’s hand.

All right, then, see you soon.

Yes, see you soon, Alice said. She straightened up, closed the car door as gently as possible and watched the car as it rolled down the street, turned into the lakeshore road, and was gone.

Lotte came back in the middle of the night. Half past one. Or half past two? They couldn’t remember precisely. They had been at the Nuovo Ponte till closing time. What Lotte hadn’t known was that none of them would be able to stop at just one glass of wine. The usual drinking rituals — just one more goodnight grappa before leaving, and another, and then one last one. They took two bottles of wine along with them, paying a whopper of a bill. And then back through the forged-iron gate along the dirt road, past the dark house on the side of the hill and towards the yellow house where they had left the lights on and the doors open. There it was, waiting for them, enchanted and silent. Which spot was really the most beautiful? The bench outside the kitchen. The balcony facing the lake with the trembling lights on the far shore, the Romanian’s camping site, the paraffin lamps of his childhood. Or Anna’s balcony, the compact opacity of the mountain, a black massif against the night sky. The three of them were completely drunk. They sat down on the terrace — it was the best spot, this seventh room with its stone parapet, three columns and the cypress, sharp-edged and closed, like a feather.

They opened a bottle of wine, which took a while. The Romanian couldn’t deal with the corkscrew, but by now Alice’s impatience had diminished, throbbing only a little now and then as if to itself. They sat together in a triangle, the bottle, glasses, and a carafe of water between them, a saucer as ashtray; the candle flickered in the draught, and fat fireflies darted about in the meadow down below. They talked about this and that, nothing important. Telling each other stories. Alice said something to Anna, and Anna replied while the Romanian listened; they were gentle with one another, exhausted and gentle.

Lotte might have been standing on the two steps that led from the terrace into the garden for quite a while before they saw her. At some point she said something and came over to sit with them on the edge of the parapet. She said they had kept Conrad in the hospital after all; the fever had been too high for too long. No cause for concern, only a routine evaluation of test results tomorrow morning during the first doctors’ rounds. She said she’d like to be there for that, to talk to the doctors, shortly after seven o’clock; would it be possible for one of them to drive her to the hospital? She was very tired, not able to concentrate on the road.

Of course, said the Romanian. Of course I’ll drive you to the hospital. He was so drunk that he almost babbled, but it didn’t matter; despite that he was reacting well, appropriately, confidently.

All right, then, Lotte said. I’m sorry. Till tomorrow. We should leave at six fifteen.

She got up. Alice thought she was very tall, an erect, straight figure. Severe-looking but forbearing. Loyal.

Good, said the Romanian, he got up too. Till tomorrow, then, at a quarter past six.

Lotte left. She disappeared as soundlessly as she had come, having turned down their offer to accompany her to the house on the hill, those hundred steps on the dirt road and then up through the lavender. No, thanks.

What time is it, Alice asked. How late is it? You’re completely drunk; how are you going to drive the car tomorrow at six fifteen? How’s that supposed to work?

Well, should I not drive her? the Romanian said coolly.

Yes, yes, you should, Alice said. She was panicky, wide awake. Did Lotte really know. Just now, did she realise what’s going on here, how completely drunk we are.

The Romanian giggled.

She did, Anna said. Of course she realised it; you couldn’t miss it. But so what? We’ll all go; we’ll set three alarm clocks. It’ll work out. We’ll manage. Calm down, Alice.

You’re the one least likely to wake up when the alarm goes off, Alice said. Well, good night, I have to go to sleep right now.

Alice went upstairs. Concentrating hard. Keep your wits about you, she thought, pull yourself together. She thought: Conrad. She climbed the stairs to the first floor, to the second. She washed at the left sink. Leaving the light on over the mirror for Anna, she walked through Anna’s room into her room, Conrad’s room. She opened the window, closed the curtains, and pulled her dress off over her head. She set the travel alarm clock for five thirty, and didn’t count the hours till then. She got into bed, closed her eyes. She could hear the voice of the Romanian downstairs, then Anna’s voice, both low and mysterious.

Dog days, the Romanian said. Look up there. Pegasus and Andromeda. Cassiopeia and Cepheus. And the Big Dragon keeps moving around the sky and never sleeps. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to see Jupiter.

How does that old saying go? Anna said.

Which saying?

Oh, the saying we used to remember the planets by when we were kids. You never heard of it? — My very enthusiastic mother just served … and so forth and so on.