Читать книгу Gliding Flight - Anne-Gine Goemans - Страница 18

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8

At one-thirty Gieles left for his get-together with Super Waling. When he reached the woods in exile he bumped into the old lady with the restored eyes. She had been picking mint and she began to talk to him, so that he was forced to get off his bike.

‘How nice to see you again,’ she said. She was wearing a comical straw hat decorated with fake flowers. ‘We’re going home later. To do the laundry and pick up medicine for Johan, things like that. But we’ll be back soon. We love it around here.’

Gieles had never heard anyone say they loved it here. He smiled at her and the woman laughed sweetly, and they both said goodbye. He biked down a straight road in the shadow of a row of poplars. Last night, as the chick slept contentedly in the palm of his hand, his curiosity had won out over his embarrassment. He would keep his date with Super Waling. There was something else that led him to make this decision, but Gieles couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

He could see Super Waling in the distance, a colourful dot against the background of a black polder landscape. Gieles could still make a U-turn. The chances that Super Waling could see him were small. He slowed down. The dot gradually grew bigger until he saw the colour. Red.

He couldn’t bike any slower or he’d fall over. He wanted to turn around. The idea of being spotted with the fattest man around was suddenly unbearable. He put on his brakes and got off. But the dot became a life buoy that waved at him. Biking away would be cruel. The buoy rolled up to him and came to a stop right next to his front wheel.

It seemed as if Super Waling had become even fatter since their meeting two weeks before. His body was squeezed into a sweatsuit. ‘Hey, Gieles! I’m so glad you came!’ said Super Waling with surprise.

Gieles said hello in an unintelligible mutter and looked around nervously.

Whale.

‘Shall I go first? If we ride side by side no one will be able to get past us.’

Super Waling turned his scooter around and led the way. They rode on the bicycle path through the open countryside. The glances from the oncoming traffic did not escape Gieles. Some drivers even slowed down to get a better look at the big man.

A densely packed row of trees to hide behind would be a welcome sight. Or a field of sunflowers to divert the attention of the gawking motorists. Palm trees and an azure blue sea would make Super Waling less conspicuous. But in the polder there was nothing to hide behind. Everyone could see you. Everyone looked at you, because there was nothing else to look at. Everything was open and exposed. For the first time he hated the landscape. Gieles cycled more slowly in order to break the connection between them. But Super Waling looked over his shoulder and let Gieles catch up.

He forced himself to think of something horrible, things that were much worse. He thought about his mother’s e-mails, which were becoming increasingly sombre in tone. In the first years she described the unusual flowers she saw. She shared her surprise about strange dishes and made jokes about them (‘Sunshine, you’re not going to believe this, but yesterday I ate stir-fried mealworms!’). But now it seemed as if she had lost her astonishment and sense of humour somewhere along a sandy path.

She wrote about African women who got raped when they went to the desert to search for bits of firewood. Or about the two-year-old girl who was eaten by a dog. Ellen had seen it happen, and once she got home she just kept carrying on about it. No detail was left out. His father didn’t want her to tell such gruesome stories when Gieles was around. But his mother said these weren’t stories, they were reality. And, she insisted, it was never too early to get used to reality.

He thought about Dolly with her tired eyes. When he had gone there to babysit the week before she had been storming around, ranting and raving. Dolly had been given an offer for her house that she said was insultingly low. Even a construction shack would bring in more than that.

Just as the next gloomy thought came bubbling to the surface, Super Waling stopped.

‘Here we are!’ he shouted happily with his ageless face. They were standing side by side on the dike, looking up at the gigantic pumping station.

With all that brooding, Gieles had forgotten about the pumping station. The building looked like a failed attempt at a castle with arms growing out of it. The iron arms stuck straight out through the dungeon windows and groped for the sky.

‘Look how gorgeous she is,’ sighed Super Waling. ‘So gracious and powerful and completely untouched by time. She’s every bit a lady. More than a hundred and sixty years old.’

Super Waling cast Gieles a beaming smile.

‘Use your imagination. Forget the cars, the street signs, the traffic lights. Forget the butt ugly apartment buildings that lack every sense of decorum. Focus on her. Look at her robust cast iron arms. Those arms pumped out three hundred and twenty thousand litres of water—a minute! Now that’s what I call impressive,’ he said, riding down from the dike to the pumping station parking lot. No one else was there, much to Gieles’s relief.

‘These days we think it’s a real achievement when somebody on TV belches the national anthem. I apologise for the crude example, but people do crazy things to get attention.’ His voice broke. ‘I think it’s impressive that human beings were capable of pumping out an entire lake with only three pumping stations. An enormous lake! Where we’re standing right now! Eight hundred million cubic metres of water, Gieles! The invisible suddenly became visible. Just imagine what a sensation the bottom of that lake produced.’

Gieles tried to imagine, but the pumping station and the bottom of the lake failed to come to life. His questions kept distracting him.

Can he see his own cock?

Super Waling pulled out a bottle of water and a can of grape soda from the linen bag that was in his basket. He gave the can to Gieles.

‘I brought Part Two for you,’ said Super Waling. ‘About Ide and Sophia Warrens. I don’t know whether you’ve read the first story at all or even whether you liked it. Maybe you didn’t think much of it.’

‘Oh, no,’ Gieles replied quickly. ‘I thought it was great. I want to read the rest, too.’ Gieles felt his cheeks reddening because he had asked for Part Two with such enthusiasm. He didn’t want Super Waling to think that all he cared about were the dirty parts, so he tried to come up with a proper question.

‘The lake,’ Gieles began, racking his brains. ‘Was that really so … so dangerous?’

Super Waling smiled and took a few sips of water.

‘Close your eyes. Go ahead. No one is watching you. Close them. That’s right. And keep them closed. Imagine we’re in a sailing ship. You know, one of those ships from long ago with a big bulging wooden hull that looked as if it had eaten too much. Brown sails are hanging from the mast, but there’s not a flutter of wind. So we’re bobbing with the current, on our way to Amsterdam to deliver hundreds of kilos of peat. We warm ourselves in the watery November sun and tell each other tall tales about the Water Wolf, which was the lake’s nickname. Usually the Water Wolf keeps a low profile, but when he’s angry—watch out! His fierce waves are as high as the foothills of the Bavarian Alps, and they devour one fishing boat after another. Dikes burst, and the poor wretch with the horse and wagon who’s trying to make a run for it doesn’t stand a chance. The Water Wolf catches up with him and eats him in one gulp. Just like that! Gone! Like a snake that prefers to dine on living prey. That’s what we tell each other, but we aren’t afraid because the water is calm and we haven’t noticed that the seagulls and cormorants are flying restlessly over the surface of the lake. We’re deaf to the dogs making a racket on the distant farms. We’re blind to the eels shooting away lickety-split. The eels are as deaf as posts, but they can feel the vibrations. And make no mistake,’ he whispered—Gieles noticed that now Super Waling himself had closed his eyes—‘there are plenty of vibrations. At first the water is as smooth as a baby’s bottom, but now a wave emerges out of nowhere. A single wave, but what a wave! A tidal wave!’

Super Waling opened his eyes and gave Gieles a penetrating look. ‘The Water Wolf turns out to be an unstoppable monster who gets bigger and bigger the closer he comes. We stare with open mouths. We don’t even have enough time to get frightened or to escape, for suddenly the monster lifts us up to his full height—fifteen, twenty metres! We see our wooden houses and church towers looming up. And when the monster reaches his highest point we can even see the English coastline. For one second we seem to be standing still, but then the monster takes a nosedive. Raahhhh! With enormous force he spits us out on land, where we’re smashed to smithereens. Nothing is left intact, neither us nor our ship. We break body parts we didn’t even know were breakable. The monster slinks hundreds of metres inland and gobbles up everything in his path. When his hunger is finally appeased, he withdraws and takes us with him. Into the depths.’

Super Waling took a sip of water.

‘All that’s left of us is my copper tobacco box and your boot. That’s the way it happened. Our own tsunami on November 1st, 1755. Right here. On this very spot.’

‘How can that be?’ Gieles asked, unconvinced.

‘An earthquake in Lisbon set off a deadly tremor in the lake.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well,’ said Gieles, and he meant every word, ‘that makes a terrific story for my school report.’

Super Waling started up the scooter and rode into the pumping station, cart and all. Gieles parked his bike in the bicycle rack next to the entrance.

Upon entering they were greeted by a lady sitting behind the ticket counter, who immediately stood up and walked over to them. ‘Hello, Waling,’ she said. She spoke the words very courteously, as if he were someone important.

Nobility!

The slender elderly woman with red, protruding eyes made Gieles think of something reptilian. A kind of gecko. The woman took Super Waling’s hand as if she were weighing it. ‘How are you and how is your health?’ she asked.

‘Excellent,’ said Super Waling, placing his slab of a hand over hers. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

‘I saw you in the newspaper,’ she cried with alarm. ‘Good heavens! Stuck in the potato field.’ Her gecko eyes protruded even further as she spoke.

‘Saved by the firemen,’ smiled Super Waling. ‘Life is full of surprises. May I introduce Gieles Bos? An extremely kind young man who rescued me on another occasion when my buggy broke down.’

Gieles smiled shyly.

‘Some people are never rescued,’ she said, patting his hand. ‘You’re lucky, Waling.’

‘How right you are,’ he said, turning his attention to Gieles. ‘He’s doing a report for school on the pumping station. A few folders would come in handy.’

‘Of course.’ The woman walked to the counter.

The sound of muted applause could be heard from somewhere in the building.

‘A wedding,’ she explained, handing Gieles a stack of folders. ‘In the Water Board Room.’

Super Waling nodded and rode over to the stairs where a wheelchair elevator had been installed. In a practised motion he rolled onto the platform and began the ascent. His thighs bulged out over the seat.

‘I saw that piece in the paper, too.’ Gieles slowly climbed the stairs beside him. ‘I didn’t know that was your name. Waling Cittersen van Boven.’

The elevator came to a halt with a slight jolt.

‘Sometimes you change so much that your name no longer fits you,’ said Super Waling. ‘I chose my nickname myself. Which, by the way, is more the exception than the rule. Usually other people give you a nickname. In grade school the kids called me mama’s boy. And they were completely right. But this time I beat them to it.’

He smiled a mournful smile.

Super Waling rode his cart off the platform and clapped his hands as if he were trying to drive something away, thereby bringing the topic to a close.

The steam engine was in the tower. It was soaring and gigantic, as if the engine were crashing out of the building. ‘She still works,’ he said proudly. ‘Which is a good thing. Who knows, we may have to use her again if we ever get flooded.’

‘You really think so?’ asked Gieles. He gazed into the pumping steam engine. The upward pressure made his hair stand on end.

‘Well, water is supposed to flow. People used to understand that much better than they do today. They lived with the water back then. When floods threatened their homes, they packed up their stuff and set off for higher ground.’

Super Waling got ready to climb out of his scooter. With one hand firmly grasping a pillar he pulled himself upward as he talked. His sweatshirt began creeping up, exposing the skin of his stomach.

‘We don’t accept the fact that water seeks its own level … We want to bend everything to our will … yessss,’ groaned Super Waling as he hung from the pillar, ‘… we defy all the laws of nature … but … pfffffff … at the same time we demand … a risk-free … society …’

Then he straightened himself up, jovial and proud as an overheated nuclear reactor.

‘Carry my bag for me, would you?’ he asked. ‘There’s something in it I want to show you when we get to the top. The most beautiful thing about the steam pump isn’t inside the tower but on top of it.’ He pointed to a narrow spiral staircase.

Gieles took the linen bag and put his own backpack in the basket of the mobility scooter. He raised his eyebrows.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve been up there a hundred times. What am I saying—a million times. I can climb those stairs with my eyes closed.’

He waddled over to the stairs. Gieles was reminded of the chicks. He hoped they wouldn’t shit all over his room. And he hoped the little one wouldn’t panic. She didn’t like to be alone.

Super Waling made an awkward bow. ‘After you, sir.’

Gieles looked up at the cramped turns in the staircase. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. Go ahead. The thing isn’t going to collapse. It’s indestructible,’ said Super Waling, slapping the cast iron handrail.

Gieles began climbing the steps, which were decorated with four-leaf clovers.

‘How’s it going with your geese?’ he heard him ask. He was halfway up, while Super Waling was only on the third step. His cheeks had turned the same colour as his sweatsuit. Gieles was afraid his head would explode.

‘Good. I got two new geese chicks a couple of days ago. Uncle Fred found them.’

‘Do they have … grmmmm … names?’

‘No. I don’t know if I’m allowed to keep them or not. My father doesn’t know.’

Super Waling was panting. His swimming-tube neck was soaking wet.

‘You can … ,’ he wheezed with a look of determination. ‘… You can name them after the people you’re … humgrrr … fond of.’

Gieles was just about to tell him that he had named his two other geese when Super Waling tumbled forward. He expected him to bounce all the way down the stairs, but his right arm got caught between two bars. Gieles was at his side in a couple of jumps, crouching over his head. Super Waling was lying with his right cheek pressed against one of the steps and he looked anything but comfortable. His lips hung heavily down as if the rubber band in his mouth had snapped.

‘You okay?’ Gieles had no idea what he was supposed to do.

‘Not bad,’ Super Waling replied weakly. ‘Although something tells me I’m not going anywhere.’

His body was blocking the stairs. Gieles had no intention of climbing over him. Super Waling’s sweatshirt had slid up and his pants had dropped a bit, exposing kilos of backside.

‘Are you religious?’ Super Waling asked.

‘No. I don’t think so.’ Gieles sat down on a step with Super Waling’s bag on his lap.

‘Me neither. Not any more. Used to be … before all the trouble started … Oh, I’m just blabbering … But suddenly a psalm came into my head. Be pleased, O God, to deliver me! O Lord, make haste to help me! … That’s pretty funny. I don’t really remember the rest.’

Gieles looked around in a panic. ‘You’re not gonna die, are you?’

‘Of course not. This is no big deal. My arm hurts a little, that’s all.’

Gieles looked at his arm, which was hanging through the bars at a strange angle. His hand was all splotchy.

‘Before I forget,’ said Super Waling, trying to look cheerful. ‘The second part of Ide and Sophia is in my bag.’

Gieles opened the bag. The story was inside a red folder between the cans of grape soda. He also saw two pairs of binoculars.

‘Something to read to kill time,’ he joked, wincing in pain.

In the adjacent room they could hear a door being opened followed by the buzzing of voices. ‘The wedding guests,’ Super Waling observed hopefully.

‘Let’s call them.’

‘Hello,’ Super Waling said weakly. ‘Can you hear me?’