BooksBarbecue
Back The Woman on the Stairs Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Bernhard Schlink
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. Part Two
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. 10
  43. 11
  44. 12
  45. 13
  46. 14
  47. 15
  48. 16
  49. 17
  50. 18
  51. 19
  52. 20
  53. 21
  54. 22
  55. 23
  56. 24
  57. 25
  58. Part Three
  59. 1
  60. 2
  61. 3
  62. 4
  63. 5
  64. 6
  65. 7
  66. 8
  67. 9
  68. 10
  69. 11
  70. 12
  71. 13
  72. 14
  73. 15
  74. 16
  75. 17
  76. 18
  77. 19
  78. 20
  79. 21
  80. 22
  81. Author’s Note
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

As we drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, the sun set. It dipped into the fog, and from one moment to the next the Pacific was gray, hostile, merciless. But the city was still awash in light. I would have liked to hear the song on the radio that I had once heard and liked. Something about San Francisco, or California, or both, but the title escaped me, and all I could remember was a bit of melody. I sang it to Irene, and she recognized the song, but she couldn’t remember the title either. Whatever – we had arrived.

“Here we are.” I smiled at Irene.

“Yes,” she smiled back. “Here we are.”

12

I hardly ever got sick. When I was, I did as my grandparents taught me: be as little of a bother as possible, need as little as possible, ask as little as possible. It’s bad enough that when you’re ill, you don’t function; you shouldn’t get in the way of others functioning more than you have to. And that is how my wife and I handled illness in our family. In the war, the sick had to fight in soaking trenches, or flee for their lives through snow and ice, or wait for bombs to drop on their freezing cellars. Do we not have reason to feel satisfied and grateful that, unlike them, we can lie in bed when we’re sick?

In the beginning, Irene was similar. She only asked for something when she was truly helpless, and then she was visibly embarrassed, and apologized and thanked me. With each day, my help became more of a given, and Irene had more needs and requests. Instead of three large meals, many small ones; instead of the alternatives of a bed in the bedroom and a bed on the balcony, a bed on this and on that side of the balcony as well, and on the veranda of the house, on the beach, and underneath the acacia by the steps. Instead of a request for a glass of water, “I’m thirsty”, and instead of “Thank you”, a smile, or nothing. When she felt nauseous, and vomiting brought no relief, and she had to continue gagging and spitting, and the bucket was too far away, or there was no tissue ready, or if I didn’t hold her right, she snapped at me.