Read Online On Leave by Daniel Anselme - Free Book Online Page A

on:
    Java!
    What’s he doing there
    With his hands in your hair
    That accord … ionist?
    He says, “I’ve got a friend who dances the java like a ballroom star. You wouldn’t turn him down if he asked you to dance! He stares at you greedily like he was going to pick a fight at the first opportunity. Mind you, I’ve nothing against him, but I’m wary of guys who look like they’re aiming for the moon. They’ll dump you at the drop of a hat. Don’t you agree, Lena?”
    She says, “Just listen to the guy: ‘I play 423 and lose. Only’—Laaaachaume, I’m talking to you!—‘only I should have played 324 because today is the thirtieth (I was using yesterday’s newspaper), and get this, 324 sure was the right number.’ So I thought, Lena my dear, go back to your mummy, you’re no use, go back and put your little arms round her skirt. So I’m telling you the big story: I am going back to my mother, and I’m going to hug her skirt. After all, she is my mother, and she wanted to have me, to have a girl-child in the house. So okay, let her do that, let her keep me, her girl-child.”
    And he says, “What do you think, Lena, are there any really courageous guys in the world? Men who do what they say…”
    â€œAren’t you going to see your mom? Wouldn’t your mom like you to give her a kiss and a cuddle? It’s always the same. Nothing works. You go home, you say, ‘ Guten Morgen, liebe Mamma. ’ It’s nice, the strudel is in the oven, there’s a lovely smell of nuts, but you’ve already got your eye on the door. Nothing ever works out. Why?”
    â€œDunno.”
    â€œIt was the same for the others, for the whole lot of them, with their hangdog looks. But even so, on the last day, at the end of the last day, they still wanted to go home. Go back home, in spite of everything. Cuddle their mom and then have a bite of strudel. Or eat the strudel first and cuddle mommy second, then have some more, but with a cuddle in between. It’s not very draufgängerisch , but you can get through it all the same.”
    And he says, “Have you been with lots of soldiers?”
    â€œWhat’s that mean, ‘been with’?” she asks angrily.
    â€œJust what I said, been friendly with. Shake hands, have a drink, chat. Have you met a lot of soldiers, Lena?”
    â€œThousands of them,” she says. “Nothing but.”
    â€œAnd what did they do?”
    â€œ Eins! Zwei! Eins! Zwei! That’s what they did!”
    â€œNo.” He shook his head. “No … what did they really do?”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean? You’re as pissed as a newt … Go get some sleep. They got sozzled and made a nuisance of themselves with the girls, that’s what they really did.”
    â€œNo, that’s not it,” he said, shaking his head again. “That’s not what I meant at all. Not at all.”
    And the song goes on:
    Java!
    What’s he doing there
    With his hands in your hair
    That accord … ionist?
    â€œLet’s have another drink.”
    And since he assents with a nod of his head, she orders two Pernods.
    â€œAch, Laachaume, my brother,” she says as they clink glasses, “I drink to your health.” She puts her arm around his shoulder and digs her nails into the back of his neck, pulling him toward her, forehead to forehead.
    â€œTell me,” he whispers, “what did they do when they were at the end of their tethers, right at the end?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe soldiers,” he says. “The … other soldiers.”
    â€œ Mein Gott! ” she exclaims, moving back from Lachaume. “What’s the world coming to if Frenchmen have become as stupid and obstinate as Germans? Sweden is ice-cold, Italy is infantile, Spain … is a wreck. Apparently the only place you can have