Read Online Hotel of the Saints by Ursula Hegi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ursula Hegi
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she lay next to Werner, unable to sleep.
She has friends who waited beyond the time when they could have chosen to leave life. The day before she left Berlin,she said goodbye to her friend Ulrike Heussâtwo years younger than sheâwho has periods of forgetfulness and cries with shame whenever she wets her bed in the nursing home, where an activity director and a nutritionist make decisions for her. Sabine doesnât know which is worse: the trained staff of a nursing home or the concern of her children.
âAny time you want to move in with us â¦,â her daughter has offered more than once.
âYou know youâre always welcome to live with me,â her son has assured her.
Theyâre both protective. Puzzled by her determination to look after herself, theyâve told her it forces them to worry even more about her.
Sabine looks at the insect bites on her thighs, traces them with her fingers up to her colorful swimsuit. Ah, she tells herself, but I am a woman who had a lover. Her lover was with her that night when she first encountered the death that has been waiting for her ever since.
They were the only ones camping in the vast canyon above a creek that flowed from one basin to the next, connected by waterfalls. Their fire flickered, casting shadows of long-gone generations against the stone walls on the other side of the canyon. The night was warm, and after loving, they walked down to the largest of the basins. At its far end, streaks of water cascaded, reminding Sabine of pictures sheâd seen of Hawaiian women standing beneath warm waterfalls, hands raised to their long hair, fanning it out, while luminous beads envelop them.
But as she entered the basin, a current pushed outwardfrom the waterfall, and she had to pull herself along the cliff to get beneath it. Instantly, the force of the water drummed down on her, pushed her beneath its churning surface, and as she struggled to surface, she screamed out. Her lover waved to her and laughed as though they were playing a game, but when she went under again and emerged with louder screams, his expression changed to panic and he kept running into the water and backing up because he didnât know how to swim. And as the pressure of the waterfall pushed her down, down, Sabine thought how ridiculous it was that the water she loved would cause her death, and she had another thought then, very clearlyâthat her death would come to her in water, but that now was too soon. She felt calm, almost at home in that silver womb, and it was with something close to regret that she sought for a foothold on the slippery rock wall, pushed both feet against it, and catapulted herself away, shooting out below the waterâs embrace. As she surfaced outside its coil, outside that ring of tension that surrounded the waterfall where it hit the basin, she was tremblingânot from fear, but because she was no longer afraid of death.
From that night forward, she would think of the canyon as dividing her life into before and after.
It is late afternoon, long after the excursion boats have returned to the harbor, after the fishing boats have pulled in their marlins and tunas and dolphins. Sabine takes off her watch, leaves it on a flat stone for Armando to find. Dark-gray crabs move across the beach like tumbleweeds, and as she walks toward the ocean, the crabs bury themselves in the sand as if pulled into vortexes,leaving penis-shaped holes and half-fans of sand that look like the raised imprints of shells.
Four pelicans ride the crests close to shore. One of them lifts itself off, feet brushing the water for an instant. Sabine brings herself to the edge of the sea, gently. Frothy salt water swirls around her calves. She waits for a large wave and slides into its backwash as it is sucked out, drawing her along without judgment, without refusal. Swimming steadily, she dives below the crests that seek the shore.
The body that has become such a burden
She has friends who waited beyond the time when they could have chosen to leave life. The day before she left Berlin,she said goodbye to her friend Ulrike Heussâtwo years younger than sheâwho has periods of forgetfulness and cries with shame whenever she wets her bed in the nursing home, where an activity director and a nutritionist make decisions for her. Sabine doesnât know which is worse: the trained staff of a nursing home or the concern of her children.
âAny time you want to move in with us â¦,â her daughter has offered more than once.
âYou know youâre always welcome to live with me,â her son has assured her.
Theyâre both protective. Puzzled by her determination to look after herself, theyâve told her it forces them to worry even more about her.
Sabine looks at the insect bites on her thighs, traces them with her fingers up to her colorful swimsuit. Ah, she tells herself, but I am a woman who had a lover. Her lover was with her that night when she first encountered the death that has been waiting for her ever since.
They were the only ones camping in the vast canyon above a creek that flowed from one basin to the next, connected by waterfalls. Their fire flickered, casting shadows of long-gone generations against the stone walls on the other side of the canyon. The night was warm, and after loving, they walked down to the largest of the basins. At its far end, streaks of water cascaded, reminding Sabine of pictures sheâd seen of Hawaiian women standing beneath warm waterfalls, hands raised to their long hair, fanning it out, while luminous beads envelop them.
But as she entered the basin, a current pushed outwardfrom the waterfall, and she had to pull herself along the cliff to get beneath it. Instantly, the force of the water drummed down on her, pushed her beneath its churning surface, and as she struggled to surface, she screamed out. Her lover waved to her and laughed as though they were playing a game, but when she went under again and emerged with louder screams, his expression changed to panic and he kept running into the water and backing up because he didnât know how to swim. And as the pressure of the waterfall pushed her down, down, Sabine thought how ridiculous it was that the water she loved would cause her death, and she had another thought then, very clearlyâthat her death would come to her in water, but that now was too soon. She felt calm, almost at home in that silver womb, and it was with something close to regret that she sought for a foothold on the slippery rock wall, pushed both feet against it, and catapulted herself away, shooting out below the waterâs embrace. As she surfaced outside its coil, outside that ring of tension that surrounded the waterfall where it hit the basin, she was tremblingânot from fear, but because she was no longer afraid of death.
From that night forward, she would think of the canyon as dividing her life into before and after.
It is late afternoon, long after the excursion boats have returned to the harbor, after the fishing boats have pulled in their marlins and tunas and dolphins. Sabine takes off her watch, leaves it on a flat stone for Armando to find. Dark-gray crabs move across the beach like tumbleweeds, and as she walks toward the ocean, the crabs bury themselves in the sand as if pulled into vortexes,leaving penis-shaped holes and half-fans of sand that look like the raised imprints of shells.
Four pelicans ride the crests close to shore. One of them lifts itself off, feet brushing the water for an instant. Sabine brings herself to the edge of the sea, gently. Frothy salt water swirls around her calves. She waits for a large wave and slides into its backwash as it is sucked out, drawing her along without judgment, without refusal. Swimming steadily, she dives below the crests that seek the shore.
The body that has become such a burden
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