Setting Free the Bears - Page 27

'You shouldn't have gotten out of the bathtub,' said Siggy. 'You might have swooned and cracked your oafish head.'

'The flowers are great, Sig. I want to thank you for them.'

'Well, they're certainly not for you,' he said. 'They're for our room in general.'

'It's a nice room,' I said.

We had a large, iron-grate window with a deep ledge; the window swung out and let in the sound of the falls. The old castle had a courtyard that our window opened to; we could see the motorcycle parked by the fullest forsythia bush - a lovely, weaponlike hulk of such purposeful machinery, misplaced in the yellows of the garden.

There were two beds, separated by a carved magazine stand. One bed was turned down. The sheet lay back crisply unwrinkled; the pillow was punched up high and light.

'Did you fix my bed, Sig?'

'No, Graff, I did not. I'm sure it was your nymphet, or perhaps her kindly aunt.'

'Her aunt is kindly, is she?'

'A dear old babe, Graff - a loving old soul. Why, she lent me this bowl for the flowers!'

'Well,' I said.

'For a small price,' said Siggy. 'A pittance.'

'Which was?' I said.

'My tolerance of her questions,' said Siggy. 'Where we came from and how we came. And why we came. And what is it we do for work?'

'Work?'

'Work, Graff. That's how we live.'

'That's a question, isn't it?' I said.

'But not her best one, Graff. She wished to know which one of us had the eyes for Gallen.'

'Well,' I said, 'a kindly aunt, she is.'

'So I eased her mind on that score,' said Siggy. 'I told her we were both raving queers and she needn't worry.'

'Frot you!' I said. 'And what did she do then?'

'She lent me her bowl,' said Siggy, 'so I could pick flowers for you.'

Off the Scent

'I'M FRAU TRATT,' SAID Gallon's aunt. 'We haven't met, as you were carried in.'

'A disgrace to me, Frau Tratt,' I said.

'How are your legs?' she asked.

'They've had the right sort of care,' I told her.

'I take good care of my Graff,' said Siggy.

'Oh yes, I can see,' said Auntie Tratt, and she left us one menu to share.

The dining-room of the Gasthof Schloss Wasserfall overlooked the dam, which added a woozy, bilious sensation to eating and drinking. The great falls spewed a froth on the windows, which made running, delta patterns down the glass. My stomach rolled over and gave me back an old taste.

Tags: John Irving Fiction
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