When the Night by Cristina Comencini Page B

in silence. What are they thinking when they do that? Will he forget that night, in the kitchen?
    “Hold still, I’m almost done.”
    The door opens and I turn around. The brown-haired woman from the bar, the brother’s wife, is standing there.
    “You can come over to our place. It’s not very comfortable in here, or clean.”
    “Thank you, I’m almost done.”
    “No, please, come.”
    “All right, thank you then. I have to change him completely; his pants are wet. You’re Manfred’s brother’s wife, aren’t you?”
    “Bianca, Albert’s wife.”
    We go up the stairs. I follow her. On the second floor I glance down the dark, narrow hallway.
    “These are the guest rooms. Our apartment is upstairs.”
    She opens a door like the others, and we step into their apartment. It’s clean, with lots of blond wood.
    “How lovely it is here.”
    “We just redid the apartment. The rest of the lodge is old and has never been renovated. It’s expensive. You can change him there.”
    “Thank you.”
    The house is pleasant. There are three beds, and lots of toys. They sleep together, as I did with my sisters. I’d like to lie down and be protected by this kind woman. I don’t want to be alone with Marco anymore.
    “Albert said to tell you …”
    I look up at her.
    “That he apologizes on his brother’s behalf.”
    “Manfred?”
    “Yes. For taking the boy, bringing him up here, and leaving you along the way. He has crazy ideas. He’s not really crazy; it’s just that his wife left him and took the kids. Manfred suffered a lot. He’s angry with women, all of them.”
    “I noticed.”
    We laugh.
    “When he comes up here, he barely says hello to me and just asks where his brother is. I’d like to hear about his kids, Simon and Clara. They grew up here, and I care for them. Luna used to bring them up here to play with our kids, and we miss them. Luna and I were friends. The Sanes are allquiet types, but Manfred is a real bear. Let me get you a clean towel.”
    She leaves the room.
    I don’t have to avenge myself. This time it’s he who took a false step. He could have blackmailed me and forced me to talk, and maybe I would have succumbed. But he didn’t have the courage to confront me. No one believes him. He’s crazy and he hates women.
    Bianca hands me a towel.
    “You can hang his pants to dry on the balcony.”
    “Thank you.”
    The bathroom is neat, the kitchen is all wood, and there are geraniums on the balcony. I don’t want to go back to the apartment in town, with Manfred downstairs. I’m afraid of the kitchen now. I can see the broken bottles on the floor, oil and wine everywhere, the baby with his eyes closed, blood. I can still smell the wine.
    “It’s so nice here. If I hadn’t rented the place in town I would stay awhile.”
    “There are a few empty rooms.”
    “But I’ve already paid for the apartment.”
    “As you wish. Do you want to eat?”
    “No, he already ate. I’ll put him down for a nap outside on the grass; he’s tired. Thank you for everything. If you don’t mind I’ll come get his pants later.”
    “See you later.”
    MAYBE I’M WRONG about her, and Albert is right.
    “You need a woman, Manfred. You spend too much time alone.”
    Who needs a woman? I’ve been through hell; I’ve earned my solitude.
    I go out on the terrace. There she is, lying on the grass. The baby is asleep on top of her, and she has her eyes closed.
    Deep down, I hate this place, but I keep coming back. With my clients, and to see Albert. We used to spend hours on that swing; now his kids play there. I have a memory of her, hanging laundry near the swing, just as Bianca does now. Nothing changes.
    How can Albert stand to live here and see them do the same things we did? She wakes them in the morning, bathes them, dresses them for school, kisses them before they leave the house. Just like when we were kids.
    IN THE AFTERNOONS, when we came home, our mother would give us hot tea and three slices