The Third Reich by Roberto Bolano

Author:Roberto Bolano
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical
ISBN: 9780670064007
Publisher: Picador
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

SEPTEMBER 6

I don’t know whether the Wolf has lost his job or the Lamb has, or both of them have. They grumble and complain but I hardly hear them. I do, however, register their low-frequency fear and rage. The owner of the Andalusia Lodge makes merciless fun of them and their misfortunes. He calls them “bums,” “dirty bastards,” “AIDS scum,” “beach faggots,” “deadbeats”; then he takes me aside, laughing, and tells me a story that I can’t follow but that’s about a rape in which they’re somehow implicated. Showing no curiosity whatsoever— though the owner is talking loud enough for everyone to hear—the Wolf and the Lamb are mesmerized by some TV sports show. This is the generation of kids that were going to put their shoulder to the wheel! This troop of zombies was going to bring glory to Spain, I shit on the Holy Virgin! the owner ends his speech. There’s nothing left for me to do but nod and return to the table with the Spaniards and order another beer. Later, through the half-open bathroom door, I see the Lamb pulling down his pants.

After I ate I headed to the Costa Brava. I was received by Mr. Pere as if it had been years since our last meeting. Our conversation—trivial—this time took place at the hotel bar, where I got to know more than a few of the manager’s circle of friends. They all radiated an air of distinction and boredom, and, naturally, they were all over forty; when I was introduced to them, they treated me with great tact. It was as if they had been presented with a celebrity or, rather, a young man of promise. Clearly Mr. Pere and I were charmed by each other.

Later, at Navy Headquarters (my visits to the Costa Brava inevitably lead there), I was told there was no news about Charly. Not intending to cause trouble, I decided to venture some suppositions. Wasn’t it strange that his body hadn’t turned up yet? Was it possible that he was still alive, suffering from amnesia and wandering around some town on the coast? I think even the two bored secretaries gave me looks of pity.

I took a leisurely walk back to the Del Mar and was able to confirm what I’d already sensed: the town is beginning to empty, there are fewer and fewer tourists, the natives’ movements are infused with a cyclical weariness. And yet the air and the sky and the sea shine clear and pure. Breathing is a delight. And anyone out for a stroll can stand and stare at whatever catches his eye without the risk of being shoved or mistaken for a drunk.

When the owner of the Andalusia Lodge disappeared into the back, I brought up the subject of the rape.

The Wolf and the Lamb guffawed and said it was all in the old man’s head. I got the sense that they were making fun of me.

When I left I paid only for what I’d had to drink.

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