Behind the Clouds Page #2

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And then throwing pebbles

like a teenager.

An elderly Romeo.

- And will you be my Juliet?

You know how it ended

with those two, don't you?

Why didn't you just call?

- That stings.

Don't be squeamish.

- Yes, I am squeamish.

You should have seen yourself.

Suddenly you'd disappeared.

Behind the wall.

Sorry.

Is it okay?

- Yes, it's okay.

I... I could sure use something strong.

Doesn't she look just like her father?

The girl in the photo

you were looking at.

What's her name?

- Jacqueline. Jacky.

And your granddaughter?

- Evelien.

Evelien.

Pretty fowers.

Do you ever think of the old days?

It's so long ago.

And you? Do you have children?

Twice married,

a son from each marriage.

But I've been divorced

for seven years already.

Apparenty I'm only capable of winning

a woman's heart, not of staying with her.

You never met the right one.

- I did, once.

But as you just said...

that was long ago.

But I did have my distractions

from time to time.

You call them distractions?

- Yes.

One time I thought it was more than a

distraction, but then it began to sufocate me.

I started to worry

about all kinds of things.

Whether there was enough bread

for the next morning. And meat, cheese.

That woman was craz about cheese.

Port-Salut, Camembert, Brie.

Whether we had enough oranges.

- Oranges?

The frst time she stayed over, I got up

early to make fresh orange juice for her.

It turned into a custom, of course.

Whenever she stayed over,

freshly squeezed orange juice.

One day I was giving a lecture

in another part of the count.

Al the time I was asking myself

if there were enough oranges at home.

It got later and later and I wasn't sure

I'd be home in time to go to the store.

It was all I could think of:

oranges, oranges, oranges.

How did it end?

- I parked my car on the side of the road.

I called her and broke up with her.

- Really?

I couldn't take it anymore.

You ended the distraction by phone?

I couldn't utter a sensible word anymore.

I was worn out with stress.

Al that came out of my mouth

was some jabber about oranges.

And did you have oranges at home?

- Two kilos.

When I came in there were two kilos

of oranges on the kitchen counter.

They looked at me and it was

as if they were laughing at me:

'You loony old sod.'

Brahms?

- Yes.

One of his most beautiful compositions.

Frederik loved this music.

- He always had good taste.

Your brother Karel did the conservatory.

- True.

How is he?

The way he played the piano...

Magnifcent.

Writing is one thing, but music...

It's the shortest way to the heart.

Do you still write?

- Hardly.

What a waste of talent.

When you're 18 you think writing

is the most important thing in life.

But later on you realise it's not.

I've learned to live with it.

With that I did.

The amount of letters I wrote back then.

Day and night, pages on end.

Those letters went straight to the heart.

So beautiful.

Thank you.

I don't remember ever

receiving a letter from you.

I didn't have the guts.

- Come on.

Seriously.

You haven't changed a bit, you know.

Don't you dare.

- What?

Don't you dare say

I haven't changed.

I still see that same girl in you.

I mean it.

It's never been hard for me

to consider you beautiful.

Really.

It was pleasant.

Maybe we should see each other again.

Bye, Gerard.

So here's the street

and here's a car.

We come from this way, and suddenly

the examiner says: Turn around here.

I mean, turn on such a narrow street.

I can't even turn on a wide street.

Grandma.

- Sorry, I had a late night.

You didn't sleep well?

- Not really.

Sorry.

- It's okay.

I'm coming to help you tomorrow.

With Grandpa's clothes.

I promised, remember?

Is Mom coming too?

I didn't ask her.

I don't know what's ailing her lately.

With that Werner...

I thought it was over.

That she'd fnally grown up.

But recenty she was in bed

with him again. Or he in bed with her.

He's married and has two children.

Two litte girls.

I just can't stand the way

she always falls for the wrong men.

At least I know who I got it from.

Isn't it going well with ruttish rhino Bjrn?

- It's not funny.

Don't be so sensitive.

But...

How do you know, Grandma?

That it's true love?

Love with a capital L,

eternal love.

The only L you can be certain of

is the one on the back of your car.

Learning your entire life, you mean?

What about you and Grandpa?

Weren't you made for each other?

It wasn't always a bed of roses.

You know what my grandma used to say?

- Yes, you've told me a thousand times.

Then let me say it again.

'Think carefully, straighten your shoulders

and do what you feel you should do.'

Thanks for yesterday

It was lovely. Gerard

What?

A friend from English class.

Leave me alone.

- Come on, Karel.

Leave me alone, I said.

Take your hands of of me.

- Don't you want to see your new room?

Leave me alone, you stupid b*tch.

- That was uncalled for. That's not nice.

Come, a few more steps. Look.

Leave me alone, I tell you.

Mr Verfaillie.

- Karel.

Take your hands of of me.

- What's this?

Stupid b*tch with your fat ass.

- He can't stay in the open ward.

Last night he got up

and crept into bed with Mrs Claes.

Calm down or we'll have to sedate you.

- Leave me alone.

Let's go look at your room. Karel, look.

- No, no.

Everything is ready.

- One small step and you're there. Come.

Hello, Gran.

Hello, dear.

Are these from the garden?

- I got them from someone.

Pretty.

From whom?

- From Gerard.

Who?

- Gerard.

I told you about him, didn't I?

- No.

Grandpa's friend, from the funeral?

- Yes, that's the one.

So you did go?

No, he showed up in the middle

of the night. With those fowers.

And you let him in.

- He stood outside, timid like a schoolboy.

Cute, really.

- Cute? Grandma, please.

Grandpa only just died.

It's extremely inappropriate.

Shall we get started?

And this one?

Throw it out.

It looked so good on him.

Keep it?

I don't want to live in a museum.

- Can I have it?

What's it about?

About young people wondering

what to do with their lives...

and fearing they'll never fnd out.

Is it by that...

- Yes, it's by that...

What?

- I didn't say anything.

It looks very nice.

- Come, give it back.

So our Gerard is a writer.

'Gerard' is how you pronounce it.

- Chic.

Does it end well for those young people?

- Eventually everything always ends well.

'The sun slowly set on

the long, empty sand beach.

In the distance the frayed clouds

turned lilac and pink...

hesitating between sadness and longing.'

- Come, give it back.

'The sea changed from foamy white

to green-yellow famed...

to dark-blue and grey,

like an opal.

It would soon be evening,

and after that, night.'

Can I read it?

- Who still reads that these days?

I do.

- A book from 50 years ago?

I do.

I'll give it back after I fnish it.

Dear Emma...

how could I ever have sent

a fve-word message?

Five paltry words.

I shouldn't have sent you fve,

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