Read Online Love Doesn't Work by Henning Koch - Free Book Online Page A

quickening at the very thought of her.
    “I’d like to see Archie some time. I grew to like Archie very much.”
    He smirked, distinctly ill-at-ease. “She told me you didn’t like her very much at all, actually.”
    “She did?”
    “You were relieved to get the hell out of there. That’s what she said.”
    “Yeah, but given the situation. I was racked with guilt, Jimmy.”
    He came in closer, his pale eyebrows beetling. He said, “So you felt you did wrong, did you?”
    “Of course I did. But she threw herself at me. I…”
    “Stop!” He nodded at a good-looking blonde making her way towards us, a ferocious grin on her fake-tan face. “There’s my new wife right there. You want to meet her?”
    “No offense, Jimmy, but I’ve got to go, if you know what I mean.”
    “Don’t worry, Chuck. This one likes fucking. Physically.”
    Before I could slip away, she’d pulled up in front of us. She was Californian, with a good body, a frightening level of earnestness and an interest in yoga and macrobiotics. All this came out in the first two minutes.
    “I feel we’ve met somewhere before,” I said.
    “No, no, no!” she cried, grasping my arm fiercely as if to show me what a tactile person she was. “You’re getting me confused with someone else out there. And I’m very typically Californian. I mean this is actually real blonde hair!”
    “Oh yeah, that’s real blonde hair all right!” Jimmy confirmed, with a grin.
    “But apart from that there’s not so much that stands out about me.”
    “Oh I don’t know about that,” said Jimmy, giving her rump a little playful slap. She shrieked with delight, baring her teeth in a way that would have provoked an attack among chimpanzees. Then said to me, without irony: “He’s so cute! I just love Danny de Vito types. Short, overweight professionals.” Pecking him on the cheek, she confided further: “You know he’s the kind of guy who can’t leave the airport without buying you a pair of diamond studs.”
    Jimmy looked at me. “So, where are you off to in such a hurry? Can’t you stay and have dinner with us at least?”
    “Yeah!” his wife cried. “Come On! Have Dinner With Us!”
    I glanced at Jimmy, and it occurred to me that he looked old, tired, gone to seed, with thrombotic cheeks and watering eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get home and pack.”
    “Oh yeah, where you going?” his wife asked.
    Their faces dropped like blinds when I told them. “It’s been on my mind for a while. I think it’s time I went back to Sardinia.”
     
    X
    I never expected to go back to the Cathar pavilion, but what one expects is largely worthless, in my experience.
    After the plane had touched down, as I crossed the tarmac into the terminal building I was already feeling the island’s powerful enchantment. The low-slung hills seemed to brood against the evening sky, and the air was pungent with wild herbs. A flock of mysterious birds arrowed through the fading light.
    Standing in line by the passport control, I noticed a series of swallows’ nests—encrusted, homely balls under the eaves of the main building. One of the nests had fallen and dashed itself against the ground. It lay in smithereens all round our feet, covered in crawling insects. On the wall I counted a straight line of seven green moths, like a motif taken from a Carey Mortimer fresco. Beneath them lurked a tiny lizard, but indecision marred its progress, and it did not move.
    By the time I had picked up my suitcase, rented a car and stopped off for a snack it was approaching midnight. I had not told Archie I was coming. In fact I had specifically not told Archie I was coming, otherwise I could of course have telephoned. When you forewarn people, you give them the chance of acting the hypocrite. Or of saying no.
    But it was a bit much arriving unannounced at two in the morning. Wasn’t it?
    In the end, that was precisely how it turned out.
    I left the luggage in the boot and walked through