bodies have fused together and the pair—now singular—rise. “The result of a union of opposites. King and queen lie down in a mercurial bath. They face each other’s naked truths. The psychosexual union is a symbol of coming to consciousness.”
Anna offered her a quizzical look. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“
Schau.
The being dies and takes the body with it. But it returns. Transcendence has been achieved, but at a cost. The cost is death.”
“Symbolic death?”
“Of course.”
A NNA STOOD TO THE side and watched her husband interact with his friends. It was strange seeing him like this, chummy and familiar, relaxed among old pals. Twenty years sloughed off him almost instantly. She imagined him a young rake, a scamp with a quirky smile knocking back a beer, his hands darting through the air as he told a story, recounted a soccer match, talked about a girl. That was Bruno at twenty-four. Anna would have been eighteen. Had they met twenty years ago, each would have scared the other off. Anna with her needy solitudes, Bruno with the confidence radiating from the very posture his body seemed to be recalling just then in Daniela’s backyard.
Bruno downed the last swallow of his beer and turned to the blond man and asked if he wanted another. He called him Karl. Karl nodded,
Jo gärn.
As Bruno brushed by Anna he bent his head to hers and asked her. His eyes were kinder than they were twenty minutes earlier.
It’s the beer,
Anna thought. Bruno’s eyes always softened when he started to drink.
Water, please.
Bruno nodded, winked, then marched off to grab drinks for all of them.
He’d called the blond man Karl. Anna remembered now. He was Karl Trötzmüller, a childhood friend of Bruno and Daniela. Anna was embarrassed she hadn’t recalled his name right away. He’d been to the house a dozen times. She blamed her absentmindedness on the weather.
“How are you, Anna? It is kind to talk to you. You see very pretty.” Karl spoke a very strange and extremely slipshod English. By “kind” he meant “nice,” and by “see” he intended“look.” Both were odd mistakes to make, but Karl was odd to begin with. Seemingly benign but without a doubt peculiar. Even his name was a little off the mark.
It’s got too many umlauts,
Bruno once snarked.
It sounds made up. It’s not Swiss.
Umlauts aside, Bruno was right: it wasn’t particularly Swiss. But it was Karl’s. And it suited him.
Anna considered her clothes. She wore a rust-colored autumn dress styled in an A-line pattern, ribbed yellow tights, and black Mary Janes. Anna preferred the feel of dresses on her body. Slacks and jeans were too confining. Swiss women, Anna noticed, were not dress wearers, choosing more often the practicality of pants. Tomorrow, this dress would return to the closet until spring. As it was, the weather was cold enough that Anna had to complete the look with the only sweater she could lay her hands to as they rushed out of the house, a rough red cardigan. It ruined an otherwise stylish outfit. “I look like a Thanksgiving centerpiece,” Anna said to Karl, who laughed and made a hedging motion with his hands. “Well, I do not understand about that,” he offered, confusing “understand” with “know.” “We have not Thanksgiving in d’Schweez,” Karl said, using the native pronunciation of Switzerland’s name. He, too, wore an outlaw grin and stood in a near-reprobate stance, his hands in his pockets, his feet squarely planted, and his hips thrust forward like a come-on.
Is this a come-on?
Anna wondered.
Is he looking me up and down?
Yes, Karl eyed her as they spoke.
But that’s what people do, they look at each other when they talk,
Anna reminded herself.
Not everyone’s as haphazardly moral as you.
Bruno returned with their beers and Anna’s water, and the men—
those rapscallion boys
—took up the conversation where they’d left it. Anna paid only vague attention until she heardTim’s name and
Anna offered her a quizzical look. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“
Schau.
The being dies and takes the body with it. But it returns. Transcendence has been achieved, but at a cost. The cost is death.”
“Symbolic death?”
“Of course.”
A NNA STOOD TO THE side and watched her husband interact with his friends. It was strange seeing him like this, chummy and familiar, relaxed among old pals. Twenty years sloughed off him almost instantly. She imagined him a young rake, a scamp with a quirky smile knocking back a beer, his hands darting through the air as he told a story, recounted a soccer match, talked about a girl. That was Bruno at twenty-four. Anna would have been eighteen. Had they met twenty years ago, each would have scared the other off. Anna with her needy solitudes, Bruno with the confidence radiating from the very posture his body seemed to be recalling just then in Daniela’s backyard.
Bruno downed the last swallow of his beer and turned to the blond man and asked if he wanted another. He called him Karl. Karl nodded,
Jo gärn.
As Bruno brushed by Anna he bent his head to hers and asked her. His eyes were kinder than they were twenty minutes earlier.
It’s the beer,
Anna thought. Bruno’s eyes always softened when he started to drink.
Water, please.
Bruno nodded, winked, then marched off to grab drinks for all of them.
He’d called the blond man Karl. Anna remembered now. He was Karl Trötzmüller, a childhood friend of Bruno and Daniela. Anna was embarrassed she hadn’t recalled his name right away. He’d been to the house a dozen times. She blamed her absentmindedness on the weather.
“How are you, Anna? It is kind to talk to you. You see very pretty.” Karl spoke a very strange and extremely slipshod English. By “kind” he meant “nice,” and by “see” he intended“look.” Both were odd mistakes to make, but Karl was odd to begin with. Seemingly benign but without a doubt peculiar. Even his name was a little off the mark.
It’s got too many umlauts,
Bruno once snarked.
It sounds made up. It’s not Swiss.
Umlauts aside, Bruno was right: it wasn’t particularly Swiss. But it was Karl’s. And it suited him.
Anna considered her clothes. She wore a rust-colored autumn dress styled in an A-line pattern, ribbed yellow tights, and black Mary Janes. Anna preferred the feel of dresses on her body. Slacks and jeans were too confining. Swiss women, Anna noticed, were not dress wearers, choosing more often the practicality of pants. Tomorrow, this dress would return to the closet until spring. As it was, the weather was cold enough that Anna had to complete the look with the only sweater she could lay her hands to as they rushed out of the house, a rough red cardigan. It ruined an otherwise stylish outfit. “I look like a Thanksgiving centerpiece,” Anna said to Karl, who laughed and made a hedging motion with his hands. “Well, I do not understand about that,” he offered, confusing “understand” with “know.” “We have not Thanksgiving in d’Schweez,” Karl said, using the native pronunciation of Switzerland’s name. He, too, wore an outlaw grin and stood in a near-reprobate stance, his hands in his pockets, his feet squarely planted, and his hips thrust forward like a come-on.
Is this a come-on?
Anna wondered.
Is he looking me up and down?
Yes, Karl eyed her as they spoke.
But that’s what people do, they look at each other when they talk,
Anna reminded herself.
Not everyone’s as haphazardly moral as you.
Bruno returned with their beers and Anna’s water, and the men—
those rapscallion boys
—took up the conversation where they’d left it. Anna paid only vague attention until she heardTim’s name and
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