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Authors: Stefan Brijs
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completely bald. There wasn’t a single red hair to be seen, so that their skulls, already large to begin with, appeared even larger. Just under their thin skin was an intricate network of blue veins.
‘Like looking at three huge light bulbs,’ Irma later told her husband, who was pressing her for more details, but in vain, because before she’d had the chance to have a good look at their faces, Charlotte Maenhout had rushed over and gently herded the boys back into the corridor.
‘Come, you still have to have your baths,’ she said, leaving the room without looking back. Irma could hear her telling the boys that everything would be all right, and then it was quiet.
Opposite her Dr Hoppe leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if nothing had happened. ‘Now, what can I do for you, Frau Nüssbaum?’
‘No I’m not gonna!’ Michael slammed the bathroom door shut and planted himself out in the hall, his arms crossed.
Frau Maenhout called out to him from the other side of the door, ‘Michael, don’t be silly. Come back here!’
She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Michael was standing by the staircase, ready to hurtle downstairs if she came any nearer. It wasn’t the first time there had been a battle to get the boys into the bath, but they had never put up this much of a fight before.
‘Do it ourselves,’ said Raphael, who was now standing in the bathroom doorway with Gabriel, his hands tucked under his armpits to show that he wasn’t going to cooperate today either. Gabriel nodded and added, ‘Undress, wash, dry. Can do it all by ourselves.’
Michael nodded his agreement. ‘All by ourselves.’
‘Fine,’ said Frau Maenhout. ‘Have it your own way. Just this once. Come on, Michael, get inside.’
Michael followed his two brothers into the bathroom. Frau Maenhout shook her head. The boys had been going through a phase in which they wanted to know everything that was going on. Why this? Why that? How come? Every answer led to another question. They wanted to try to do everything by themselves, even though they weren’t really capable of it yet. She should be stricter with them, she knew, but she just wasn’t able to. She felt sorry for them.
She stepped back into the bathroom and saw that none of the three had begun to undress. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ she asked.
‘First brush teeth!’ cried Raphael all of a sudden. He rushed to the sink, followed closely by the other two. They climbed up on a little bench so that they could reach the tap. Raphael doled out the toothbrushes that were the same colour as their bracelets.
Frau Maenhout could see their bald heads in the mirror. She remembered how she had wrongly berated their father when confronted for the first time with their baldness a couple of days after their first birthday. She had assumed that Dr Hoppe had shaved their heads, either because he was conducting some kind of test, or simply on a whim. But it turned out that their hair had fallen out by itself, all in a single night. As proof, Dr Hoppe had shown her three plastic bags full of hair, which he had gathered from the boys’ pillows. The boys had confirmed his story themselves.
‘It will come out all right in the end,’ the doctor had said, adding that the baldness was only of a temporary nature. Yet almost a year had gone by and still their hair had not grown back. The doctor was also constantly subjecting his sons to all kinds of tests that he hoped might throw some light on the problem. These included routine check-ups, such as listening to their hearts and lungs, taking their blood pressure and testing their reflexes, but also other kinds of procedure: for example, he would take skin samples, using a metal implement to scrape off a layer, or draw blood from their scrawny little arms with a big hollow needle - unpleasant ordeals the children told her about matter-of-factly, as if they had simply witnessed the treatment instead of undergoing
‘Like looking at three huge light bulbs,’ Irma later told her husband, who was pressing her for more details, but in vain, because before she’d had the chance to have a good look at their faces, Charlotte Maenhout had rushed over and gently herded the boys back into the corridor.
‘Come, you still have to have your baths,’ she said, leaving the room without looking back. Irma could hear her telling the boys that everything would be all right, and then it was quiet.
Opposite her Dr Hoppe leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if nothing had happened. ‘Now, what can I do for you, Frau Nüssbaum?’
‘No I’m not gonna!’ Michael slammed the bathroom door shut and planted himself out in the hall, his arms crossed.
Frau Maenhout called out to him from the other side of the door, ‘Michael, don’t be silly. Come back here!’
She opened the door and stepped into the corridor. Michael was standing by the staircase, ready to hurtle downstairs if she came any nearer. It wasn’t the first time there had been a battle to get the boys into the bath, but they had never put up this much of a fight before.
‘Do it ourselves,’ said Raphael, who was now standing in the bathroom doorway with Gabriel, his hands tucked under his armpits to show that he wasn’t going to cooperate today either. Gabriel nodded and added, ‘Undress, wash, dry. Can do it all by ourselves.’
Michael nodded his agreement. ‘All by ourselves.’
‘Fine,’ said Frau Maenhout. ‘Have it your own way. Just this once. Come on, Michael, get inside.’
Michael followed his two brothers into the bathroom. Frau Maenhout shook her head. The boys had been going through a phase in which they wanted to know everything that was going on. Why this? Why that? How come? Every answer led to another question. They wanted to try to do everything by themselves, even though they weren’t really capable of it yet. She should be stricter with them, she knew, but she just wasn’t able to. She felt sorry for them.
She stepped back into the bathroom and saw that none of the three had begun to undress. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ she asked.
‘First brush teeth!’ cried Raphael all of a sudden. He rushed to the sink, followed closely by the other two. They climbed up on a little bench so that they could reach the tap. Raphael doled out the toothbrushes that were the same colour as their bracelets.
Frau Maenhout could see their bald heads in the mirror. She remembered how she had wrongly berated their father when confronted for the first time with their baldness a couple of days after their first birthday. She had assumed that Dr Hoppe had shaved their heads, either because he was conducting some kind of test, or simply on a whim. But it turned out that their hair had fallen out by itself, all in a single night. As proof, Dr Hoppe had shown her three plastic bags full of hair, which he had gathered from the boys’ pillows. The boys had confirmed his story themselves.
‘It will come out all right in the end,’ the doctor had said, adding that the baldness was only of a temporary nature. Yet almost a year had gone by and still their hair had not grown back. The doctor was also constantly subjecting his sons to all kinds of tests that he hoped might throw some light on the problem. These included routine check-ups, such as listening to their hearts and lungs, taking their blood pressure and testing their reflexes, but also other kinds of procedure: for example, he would take skin samples, using a metal implement to scrape off a layer, or draw blood from their scrawny little arms with a big hollow needle - unpleasant ordeals the children told her about matter-of-factly, as if they had simply witnessed the treatment instead of undergoing
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