Behind the Clouds Page #3

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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.

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