The Swede Read Online Free PDF

bleached animal bones, a diver’s knife without a sheath, one blue flipper. Other times the Czech swam out in the sea until he became a dot and then returned, snorting, from the waves. When N. asked about his occupation, he said that he traveled. Every night before dinner the Czech stared at Weejay’s laminated menu as if he’d never seen it before. He read, muttered in frustration, then ordered whatever N. told him to. He introduced himself as Vladislav Pilk.
    One evening as they sat eating, Vladislav asked, “Were you there?”
    N. tried to look uncomprehending.
    “The wave, did you make it, in the tsunami?”
    “Yes . . .” N. nodded.
    “Me too.” Vladislav emptied the beer glass and called for another one. “Damn stupid question, obviously you made it.” He snorted. “Well, shit. I was on a bus heading north, packed with people. And then, you know . . . someone screamed and the whole thing was pushed over sideways and we were floating. Floating atfirst, that is, but soon water started gushing in. There was one way out, through the open window, but everyone was fighting—bam, crash, pushing and pulling—total chaos. What to do? I grabbed my backpack and held myself down in the seat with my hands and feet. Then when the time came, three fast ones . . .” He breathed in and out quickly and took a deep breath. “Thinking it was the right thing, to sit there as long as possible. That I could take it. Until the water reached the top. It was black in there, with stuff floating around, and someone kicked me in the face. I mean, the ultimate. When you can’t take it any longer, you know, Christ how your chest gets tight, you want to get that air.” He laughed and bared his teeth. “Then I let go of my seat and found my way to the window, felt my way. Wall, wall, wall . . . and then a hole. I swam out and kept swimming until I reached the surface. Like a damn flash flood in springtime up there, not another soul. Only me. Backpack and glasses intact.” He laughed again.
    Then he grew serious and looked straight at N. “It was the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced. Don’t you agree? Incredible . . . unmatched.” He snorted and drew his fists to his chest. “Couldn’t sleep a wink for nights afterward, what a high.” He exhaled. “Feels like you could take on everything, do anything. No?”
    N. made a vague gesture.
    “Another beer?” said Vladislav. “Or dessert?”
    T he next day N. watched Vladislav throwing pebbles at a palm tree. He stood more than fifty yards away, firing stone after stone. The hits sounded hollow. He didn’t miss once.
    In the same palm grove N. sometimes saw a leg dangling from a hammock. From his view at his table in the shade, he guessed itbelonged to a woman. The rest of the body hidden by the fabric of the hammock. He thought he’d seen her around the place. Long black hair and smoky eyes. She kept to herself in the shade, reading. If you met her eye, she smiled.
    When N. came down for dinner one evening, she had suddenly appeared at Vladislav’s table. He looked around for another table when Vladislav called, “Come, come and sit down. This is . . .”
    “Mary. Still Mary,” she said, resigned.
    “And here we have Mary,” Vladislav said loudly as he pulled over a chair for N.
    Mary was American. She worse a sleeveless black cotton dress and white tennis shoes.
    “I saw her reading, that’s how we met,” said Vladislav cryptically. He picked up the menu. “Do they have anything with potatoes?”
    “No,” said N. as he sat down. “Still no potatoes.”
    “Doesn’t it ever change?”
    “No, never changes. Don’t have, won’t have. Get the prawns.”
    “How silly,” said Mary, laughing for a moment.
    Mary didn’t drink the table water, pushed the vegetables to one side, and ate only her steak. During dinner Vladislav entertained them with wild stories from some trip to Senegal. A stream of jokes and anecdotes, his loud laughter, and, behind their