Arnon Grunberg: Flying Females

Emile was wearing a white suit. He was edgier than ever. He had thelittle gold box clenched in his hand. 'They didn't find a thing,’ hewhispered in the taxi, 'but they can't guarantee anything either.' Afew minutes later he whispered: 'I could drop dead any moment.'

Elvira and Broccoli took a separate cab. He'd told Emile and MrsLopez that his father thought his hospitality was tantamount to openinga camp site.

Mr. Berk had started coming by every day to check up. He pretendedhe was there to pick up the mail, but we knew old Eckstein had sent himto see if the camp site was still there. His stepping on the beds eachtime couldn't have been an accident either. After a lot ofencouragement, Mrs Lopez and Emile had announced they'd be leaving forRome and would fly back to Buenos Aires from there.

'I just hope I make it to Rome,' Emile had said a few times already.But to tell you the truth, he'd never looked better. He just seemed toget fatter all the time. According to Broccoli, in the middle of thenight Emile would often say: 'I could sure stand a drumstick.' ThenBroccoli would have to go to the all-night deli on the Beethovenstraatto buy him grilled drumsticks. The people at the deli knew Broccoli bynow. They'd hand him the drumsticks before he could even say a word.Emile devoured at least four drumsticks a night.

'You're a fantastic driver,' I heard Mrs Lopez telling the taxi driver.

'She flirts with everyone,' Emile whispered. 'I'm sure you'venoticed that already. But it is innocent flirting. Completelyinnocent.' Then he shook me by the shoulder and said: 'You're a goodboy.'

Broccoli had made reservations at a restaurant on 't Spui. As soonas we walked in, Mrs Lopez threw her arms around the neck of the firstwaiter she saw. Two other waiters had to escort her to the table. Onceshe was seated, she started blowing kisses at everyone. Not only at thetwo waiters who'd brought her to the table, but to almost the wholestaff.

'We'll come back,' Mrs Lopez said. 'We'll come and visit you again sometime.'

'Is that a threat?' Broccoli mumbled.

Elvira was toying with her rice. She had her boa constrictor on.

'Where did you get that horrible thing?' her mother asked. Shedidn't wait for an answer. She never waited for an answer. She justwent on talking at Broccoli. 'I'm having an exhibition in Buenos Airesin November. Did I tell you I paint? Flying females and trees. I'llsend you a painting. You've been so wonderful to us all these weeks.'

'That's awfully nice of you,' Broccoli said.

It seemed like Elvira wasn't following half the conversation. Everyonce in a while she'd look at me. Then she smiled. I didn't smile back,because Mrs Lopez was keeping an eye on everyone.

After dinner, Emile said: 'It was lovely, but there were no drumsticks.' He had dark bags under his eyes.

When they brought the coffee, he pulled a packet of sweeteners outof his pocket and dropped two tablets into his cup. '1 like sweetthings,' he whispered. And a little later: 'I can feel it in my armagain.' He laid his left arm on the table, like it was a huge sausage.I was sitting next to him, but I didn't ask what it was he felt in hisarm.

'I hope you come back to Buenos Aires soon, Elvira,' her mother said.

'I feel it in my arm again,' Emile yelped.

Mrs Lopez slammed her hand down on the table and shouted: 'Spare usthe pain in your arms, please, for one evening. The doctors have lookedat you and there's nothing wrong.' She took a big slug of coffee, thensaid: 'Your husband's waiting for you, Elvira. We all are.'

Elvira didn't say a word. No one said a word, except for Emile, whowhispered in my ear: 'I can't take it any more.' I didn't know whetherhe was talking about the pain in his arm or about Mrs Lopez.

'You can't just leave someone who loves you," Mrs Lopez said, 'especially not your husband.'

Elvira smiled. Maybe she felt like saying that you can leave anyone,whether they're your husband or not, whether they love you or not.

'It's better this way,' Elvira said finally.

'This is him,' her mother said, pointing to a photograph she'dpulled out of her bag. We had to look at the photo of Elvira's husbandagain. It must have been the rugby player, or maybe he was a bouncer.

'When Elvira turned eighteen I gave her a waterbed,' Mrs Lopez said.She was beaming. Broccoli took her hand, the way I'd seen him take MrsMeerschwam's hand before.

'I had arthritis by the time I was four, but do you think my parentsbought me a waterbed? Wooden planks and an old mattress, that's what Islept on for fifteen years.'

We got up from the table. Broccoli and I had to help Mrs Lopez walk.Somehow she still succeeded in stumbling up against a waiter. When wesaid goodbye, Emile shook me till my teeth rattled. 'You're a goodboy,' he said again.

Mrs Lopez was crying. The taxi was waiting at the kerb. She criedthe way some women do when they have an orgasm. With huge gasps andheart-rending sobs.

'At least tell him yourself,' she said. 'He suffers so much. He loves you.'

When Mrs Lopez wasn't looking, Emile slipped Elvira some money. Hegave me two ten-guilder notes as well. 'Put it away quick,' he said.I’ll never make it back to Holland, and young people can always do witha little something extra.'

They climbed in the taxi; Mrs Lopez in front, Broccoli and Emile inthe back. Mrs Lopez rolled down the window. 'Come back,' she yelled,'please come back.' The only thing was, you couldn't tell who she wastalking to. As they were pulling away, we heard her shout: 'Oh my God,I've got an appointment at the hairdresser's tomorrow.'

Emile stuck his arm out the window to shake hands with Elvira andme, but he was too late. The taxi shot off. Elvira and I just stoodthere in front of the restaurant. We remained standing there for quitesome time.