When the Night (21 page)

“Yes, it’s true.”

THE YOUNG MAN follows me with my suitcase. We sink into the snow. I push open the front door. Everything is new,
the wood paneling on the walls, the counter, everything but the stuffed woodchuck, standing on its hind legs, and the sled. There aren’t many people in the foyer or the dining room; they’re still out on the slopes. A dark-haired girl greets me.

“Hello.”

“Hello, I’ve reserved a room.”

“Yes, my mother told me.”

“Are you Silvia?”

She nods.

“I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

She shakes her head. Curtly, she asks the young man to take up the suitcase. She used to do what her brothers told her, and now she runs the place. I hand her my suitcase, and she takes me up to the second floor.

“You’ve renovated.”

“Two years ago.”

The room smells like fresh wood. There’s a private bath, and a comforter decorated with little flowers. The suitcase is already on the chair.

“Is your mother here?”

“She’s in the kitchen.”

“I’ll come down later and say hello.”

When she smiles, she looks like the patient little girl who used to play with Marco.

It’s cold outside; I lie down on the bed and wrap myself in the comforter. I could rent skis, or put on a pair of snowshoes and go for a walk, or read downstairs in the sitting room until the skiers come home. I’ll go to the kitchen and say hello to Bianca.

What if no one tells him I’m here? He might never find out. And what if he knows already but isn’t interested in seeing me? Better. But you don’t really think that, Marina. He might do it out of spite. Maybe he can’t walk, or he’s not well, or he doesn’t want me to see him.

I go downstairs to see Bianca.

I DIDN’T SLEEP, and this morning I feel cold. The doctors should explain this to me: why does this damned leg still hurt, even though I can’t move it? I shovel frozen snow, and scatter gravel. They always need their blasted cars; there are buses every fifteen minutes, and you can walk the length of the town in half an hour, but it makes no difference. After all, Manfred can dig out the car. I complained to Luna this morning while I was getting dressed, and she scowled at me.

“What do you care, as long as they keep coming?”

“I know: the mortgage!”

“You’re in a bad mood today, Manfred.”

“As usual.”

What is she doing here? If she thinks I want to meet her family, she’s sorely mistaken. She went up to the lodge on purpose; she’s probably been planning this for years, to show off her family. Or maybe to her this is just a place like any other. Manfred, you’re a fool.

And what if I stuck a nail, just one little bitty nail, under the tire of this SUV?

WE USED TO do it to the jeeps that came up to the lodge when we were kids. Then we would laugh as we saw the faces of the tourists when they tried to drive away. We’d help them change the tire, and they would say to our father, “What good kids you have.”

Our father was proud of us; he had no idea how happy we would have been if he had closed the lodge for good. I would have spent my days hiking in the mountains, and Albert and Stefan could have gone down to the valley to live the life they wanted. At Clara’s age, we did everything we could to get out of here. Thinking about my mother, I could almost sympathize with her decision. My father didn’t know, nor did he ask; for him, every day was the same. When I turned eighteen, my brothers and I talked through the night. Even I, normally so reticent, asked questions: “Will we end up like him? I’m not getting married, and I don’t want a house, or kids.”

Albert already had Bianca. “If we get married, I’ll lock the door every night.”

Stefan was still clueless. “I’ll have three wives, that way if one goes away, I’ll have two left.”

LOOK HOW WE ended up. I finish shoveling the snow and head over to Stefan’s. Maybe he knows why Marina came back here.

BIANCA PUTS THE kettle on. We’re alone in the kitchen.

“Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“The table is the same, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the table and the stove. The rest is new.”

I sit down and touch the old wood. That day long ago, Marco ate here, with his hands.

“Soon the cook will arrive and begin to prepare dinner. I’ll have to clear out. That’s how they are; they don’t want us underfoot. I used to do everything myself, but now I’m tired.”

She has gained weight. In her face too. Her eyes are melancholy now. She has changed, like the kitchen. She turns around and faces me.

“You look well, even younger than fifteen years ago.”

“I cut my hair. And in those days I never slept.”

“So, you decided to take a vacation on your own. I should do the same. But who would look after Albert and the lodge? He doesn’t want to go anywhere and Silvia and he don’t get along. How is your son? You have two now.”

“Marco is seventeen and Silvia is fourteen.”

“Silvia, like my daughter.”

“Yes, I gave her the same name. I’ve thought about those days I stayed here with you many times over the years.”

She pours some tea. I warm my hands on my cup. She sits down.

“If it hadn’t been for you, Manfred would have been in that crevasse all night.”

I clutch the hot cup.

“How is he?”

“Very well. He can’t use his left leg, but that’s the only thing left over from the accident. They opened a hotel, and their kids are all grown up now.”

The heat rises up from my hands to my face.

“Did they get back together?”

She laughs. “How could he manage without her? Then, when he was better, she got what she wanted. The life they had before didn’t suit her, and she was right. And Manfred is different now.”

I remember another kitchen, and my conversation with his wife. I remember how she said, “Who knows what will happen now, after the accident. Maybe he’ll need me.” She was right.

“I’m glad he’s better.”

“He’s not as moody, and he’s kinder, even to his children.”

I drink my tea. From some dark recess, deep down, I feel a wave of rage rising. Why did I come here? Wasted dreams, fairy tales, secrets. The truth is simple: he went back to his wife and found peace.

“We can call them. He’ll be happy to know that you’re here.”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll go by and see them when I return to town.”

STEFAN STARES AT me. His hair has gone gray earlier than mine.

“I had customers. Couldn’t we talk in the shop?”

“Your wife can help them.”

“It’s cold out here. You didn’t give me time to grab my jacket.”

“Let’s walk, that way you won’t feel it.”

I never ask him for anything, and here he is, complaining about a little bit of cold. Cars, the smell of gas just like in town, and the dirty snow.

“She’s back.”

“Who?”

“The one who called the police when I fell.”

He thinks for a moment. “Oh.”

“After all this time. Why? She’s up at the lodge.”

“What do you care? Maybe she’s on vacation.”

“Yes, that occurred to me. Maybe she’s here with her husband and son. Perfectly normal.”

“Yes.”

“So I don’t need to go up to the lodge?”

He stares at me. He thinks I’ve gone mad. “What for?”

“To say hello. I owe her something, don’t I?”

He’s frozen stiff. His words run together. “When did you become so polite?”

Stefan gets on my nerves. “So it would be dumb to go up there?”

“No. In fact, she might be glad to see you.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

I leave him there in the street. Stefan has never understood anything. I won’t go up to the lodge. If she wants to see me, she can come to me.

I EAT BY myself in the dining room and I don’t know where to look. If I settle my gaze on one of the other tables, it’s invasive; if I stare into space or up at the stuffed deer, I look crazy. Tomorrow night I’ll bring a book. This morning I took a walk, but it was cold. I never liked skiing. I fell asleep under the comforter, and when I woke up it was light again.

I want to see him because I owe a debt to him. I pull the photos of the kids out of the envelope and call home, but no one is in. I’m all alone, as I was that month. There is a dark cloud inside of me, deep, deep down. For months and years I don’t feel it, and then it comes to the surface. Whom can I tell? One night I had a fight with Mario, but it doesn’t happen often; I know how to control myself.

HE WAS CALM. The angrier I got, the quieter and colder he became. The subject of the argument was something absurd; we were really arguing about something else, something unsaid. My rage is the reason for the fight. He can’t see me this way; he can’t accept it. I’m not the woman he married, years ago.

On that day, the baby stared at me with terror in his eyes, first in my arms, then on the floor. Who is this woman? Even now, Mario is afraid of going deep. I no longer fear it, not anymore. I hold his fear up to his face and laugh.

“This is me, Mario, this is who I am! There are men who aren’t afraid of me!”

He stares at me in silence. “Have you known many?”

“One.” I cover my tracks with a lie. “Before I knew you, when I was on a trip.”

“You should have married him.”

“He didn’t want me.”

He gets angry: jealousy, wounded pride. But now I know who Manfred is: the only man who is not afraid of me. I said it, just like that. I hold him close, separate from everything else.

ALBERT COMES OVER to my table to say hello.

“Did you go skiing?”

“No, I went for a walk. I’m not much of a skier.”

“Last night I saw Manfred and I told him you were here.”

I smile calmly. “I’d love to see him. Bianca told me that he’s well.”

“Yes, he’s less of a bear than before. Sometimes Stefan and I miss the old Manfred.”

“How is Stefan?”

“He’s married with a kid. After dinner they’ll come up; come have a drink with us.”

He walks off. Stefan was a good dancer. He knows I’m here. Stefan comes up to the lodge but he doesn’t. Why should he? Just wait, Marina, one day, two days. Let’s see how long he stays away.

EVERY NIGHT IT’S the same thing. If I want to talk to Luna I have to wander among the tables, smile, say hello.

“Good skiing today, Manfred!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“What’s the forecast for tomorrow?”

Maybe I’ll say it: storms, wind. No, I can’t. We have to pay the mortgage. “No snow, but it’ll be sunny.”

He smiles. No matter what, he’s happy.

Luna makes small talk. She never gets tired. She sees me and then turns toward the customers: “Please excuse me a moment.”

She comes over and I ask her in a whisper: “Where is Simon?”

“He went into town to see his girlfriend.”

I feel the anger rising and without realizing, I raise my voice. “He goes every night!”

Luna pulls me into the kitchen. “Why are you angry?”

“Who’ll work behind the counter? Do I have to do it?”

She peers into my face. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Nowhere. I want to go to bed. Tomorrow I have to get up early to go up to the lodge.”

“Go to bed. I’ll handle it.”

Her calm makes me crazy.

“He should be here.”

She stares at me the way she used to, when she suspected me of something.

“He can only see her at night.”

“Poor thing! I’m here all day long, digging cars out of the snow. Stefan asks me if I want to go up to the lodge, because he’s finished for the day. But no, I can never go, because Simon is in love.”

“But you said you want to go tomorrow early!”

She always gets to the point.

“I already told him I can’t go tonight, but I’d like to go to bed.”

I turn around and walk away. She’s wondering why I’m angry, but it doesn’t matter. She has patience, but I don’t. There’s a limit. I have a bad leg, I can’t work as a guide, I’m married, with adult children; I didn’t want a house, and now I have a hotel, and only one day off a week, like the cook.

When I climb up the stairs, I can’t hide my leg. I’m glad I didn’t go up to the lodge tonight. She’s not the type to let something like that go.

“Poor man, he can’t hike up the mountain anymore.”