The Third Reich

INGEBORG

Neither of us had any intention of making love and yet we ended up in bed. This was due in part to the seductive arrangement of the furniture, rugs, and various objects with which Ingeborg has redecorated her large room, and to the music of an American singer whose name I can’t recall, and also to the rare peace of the indigo Sunday afternoon. This doesn’t mean that we’ve resumed our rela-tionship; the decision to remain friends is firm on both sides and surely will lead to better things than our old bond. To be honest, nothing much has changed. Of course I had to tell her some of the things that happened in Spain after she left. Basically I talked about Clarita and the discovery of Charly’s body. Both stories made a strong impression on her. In return, she revealed something that I’m not sure whether to consider pathetic or funny. While I was away, Conrad tried to woo her. Always, it goes without saying, in the most respectful fashion. And what happened? I asked, surprised. Nothing. Did he kiss you? He tried, but I slapped him. Ingeborg and I laughed, but later I felt bad about it.