Read Online Alice by Judith Hermann - Free Book Online

right, then, till tomorrow. Drive carefully.
    Till tomorrow, Alice said. She got up, stood by the bed, raised her shoulders and lowered them again. They both smiled. Alice left the room, went down the long, brightly lit hallway back to the lift. They were now sitting next to one another, Lotte in the middle between Anna and the Romanian, and Alice stopped in front of them. The Romanian looked out at the car park. Anna looked at Lotte. No one said anything.
    He’s feeling better, isn’t he? Lotte said.
    I think so, Alice said. He’s feeling better.
    OK. Then let’s go home, Lotte said. She pointed to the lift. I already said goodbye to him; we can leave.
    They stopped at a petrol station halfway between the town and Lotte’s house. Grass and nettles growing between the pumps; the windows of the kiosk where you paid were pasted over with black foil. The attendant came out of the door, yawning. Please fill the tank, Lotte said to theRomanian. In the course of the day an unusual intimacy seemed to have developed between them, affection, a silent understanding. Wordless.
    The Romanian took the money Lotte handed him; got out of the car, doing everything slowly as befitted the temperature, simple movements. Would you like some ice cream? Lotte asked Anna and Alice. Anna and Alice got out too. Lotte stayed in the car. Inside the kiosk cold air came out of the chest freezer like a net, palpable. A
cornetto
? Anna said, leaving the sliding door on the chest freezer open. Or an ice-lolly? The attendant drummed his thick fingers on the scuffed countertop, next to the cash register, worn from coins being pushed across it. Arabic music from a radio. Air-fresheners. Alice looked at the white BMW standing between the rusty petrol pumps, Lotte’s unmoving profile unfocused behind the tinted windows. The Romanian had finished filling the tank. He was looking up at the mountain, holding his hand over his eyes, probably watching some bird, an eagle, a falcon, a buzzard. Under certain circumstances, Alice thought, you can feel jealous if another person merely looks up at the sky. She selected an ice-lolly and closed the freezer chest. The cashier pressed keys on his till. This, this, and that. Anything else?
    The Romanian strolled in, put a banknote on the counter, chatted a little longer,
parlando
:
Come stai? Molto bene
,
grazie
,
arrividerci
. As always, Alice wouldn’t touch the wooden stick of the ice-lolly, she had to wrap the paper cover around it. Sweet woodruff, raspberry, lemon. What flavour is it? the Romanian asked.
Dolomiti
, Alice said, asif he were hard of hearing. Anna belligerently showed the cashier her broken front tooth; inciting him. He banged shut the cash-register drawer so that it shook. In the car, Lotte smiled when they climbed in again. No sign of impatience. She was at peace with herself.
    The last stretch was familiar. This village, the next village, the church tower, the Via dei Colli, then the Ristorante Nuovo Ponte, already familiar and consequently no longer of interest; they had sat there, so that was that, walked there, still beautiful, but no longer strange. And Lotte no longer gave them directions; she assumed the Romanian knew his way by now. The Romanian gently turned off the highway, the tic-tic-tic of the indicator, and then they were driving past the Nuovo Ponte which was not yet open for business, the chairs folded up and neatly placed against the tables under the blue awning. Then the road up to the five-way intersection and through the forged-iron gate, past the goats which didn’t react in any way to the white BMW, and up to the stairs to Lotte and Conrad’s house, next to which there was a space for the car, overgrown with blooming oleander. The Romanian parked the car in the space, just so, turned off the engine, and the hum of the air-conditioning faded and stopped. Gradually, one by one, outside noises came into the car. The bleating of a goat. The shrill call