“Oetzi the Iceman. Remember the one they found high up, just across in Italy? Preserved, in the ice?”
A sardonic expression took over Opa Nagl’s face.
“Him,” he murmured. “The archaeology people? I get it now.
Of course. Yes, he was on his way over the mountains to see me when he croaked.”
Felix glanced over, and grinned.
Opa Nagl seemed ageless. He still had the schoolboy’s vitality and mischief close to the surface. For a moment Felix imagined his opa striding over the moors in the high mountains six thousand years ago, grumbling that his friend Oetzi was late again. Then, maybe finding Oetzi curled up just as he was when a hill-walker was to find him in 1992 half encased in the ice, what would he do, or say? Maybe standing over the unresponsive, curled-up figure, Opa might berate him for losing his way: Oetzi, you clumsy clown! I’m leaving you here so someone can find you in thousands of years, a monument to the Earliest Austrian Idiot. And the figure of Opa Nagl, hill farmer, prodigious farter, mechanic and joker, would move on across the high passes, the blue overalls visible thousands of metres away to the prehistoric peoples who would deem him a god.
“What? What is so funny?”
“Just thinking old times.”
Opa’s face showed his skepticism.
“Ach so? Well don’t do it, kid. That’s not a family heirloom you should accept.”
Felix watched his grandfather swallow more beer.
“By all means, keep the good stuff,” he added then.
“What would that be?”
“What I said,” said his grandfather, turning serious. “Your dad.
He had a big heart. Never let anyone…”
And he turned away. After humming awhile a sign he was restless, annoyed or wanted out, Felix knew he turned back. He had a gentle expression now.
“Come on Felix. You are a grown man. You know me. You know more about the world already than we ever will. Don’t listen to an old goat like me. It’s strange how the feelings linger. It must be the anniversary, all that it brings it back.”
“I never had anyone say, or suggest, anything about Dad, Opa.”
The crease between his grandfather’s eyebrows was anger more than bewilderment.
“Of course not. Why are you even saying that?”
“Heirloom, what does that mean?”
“I have a big mouth, that’s what it means. See this beer? You brought this on.”
Felix waited but his grandfather shook his head and muttered.
An uneasy silence settled between them. Felix began to feel tired, aching even. The events of the day began to roll through his mind like a silent movie, stopping at Speckbauer’s face with its halfsarcastic lift of the eyebrow and that knowing look, then to his voice with the studied courtesy and fake warmth.
“Too much,” he muttered.
“Too much what?”
“Too much in one day. I’m tired.”
“Good. It’s the mountain air. It means you are relaxed, like the weeks you used to spend with us. Christ, but we had fun! Like a couple of pranksters. Remember the tractor you nearly rolled there in the high field?”
In the distance they heard the occasional car coming up the hill. There wasn’t a breath of wind. They made their way to the old bench by the wall, and soon another beer was opened. Felix no longer felt the chill of the evening air up here. They stared down the valley, the jokes and conversation now done, and Felix remembered how quiet his grandfather was when he got the few anecdotes and gossip out of the way.
“Come on,” said his grandfather, we’ll go in. Your oma will be home. A bit of dinner better be on the table.”
Felix took his time getting up. He found his grandfather’s eyes on him.
“You’re going to bed early, I am thinking, no?”
“I’ll pick up steam, Opa.”
“You’re looking broody to me. Have forty winks anyway.”
Felix sighed and stretched.
“You have that one-hundred-kilometre look all right. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“It’s so different here, I had almost forgotten.”
“That’s what the city does.”
“Nothing changes up here, it feels like.”
His grandfather gave him a look.
“Your mother said the exact same thing. A million times she couldn’t wait, you know.”
“But she came back, didn’t she?”
“For your dad’s sake, Felix. Not to say she was not happy here.
If he was happy, that made her happy. That’s what love is, Felix.
Who knows, but you will find that too.”
“Opa. You and Dad got along. Right?”
“Christ, naturlich, we did! And how. He was like my own son.”
“Did he, well, did he talk to you about work at all?”
“Work, like the Gendarmerie? No. Why would he?”
“I just wondered.”
“You need some advice about work? Ask Edelbacher. He knows everything.”
“It’s not that. I just wondered if you and he talked about stuff.”
“Of course we did! But what stuff? Like, how to change the oil in that stupid tractor?”
“I meant, well, when he went around the place.”
Opa Nagl’s frown wasn’t unfriendly, Felix understood.
“You have things on your mind all right,” he said. “Not just that nice girl.”
“How’d you know?”
“It’s all over your face. But your father, it’s the anniversary. Yes that’s it.”
“I heard how he was well liked and all, and how everyone knew him, or met him, at least.”
“And isn’t that good? They mean it, Felix.”
Felix thought about another beer.
“Well, have you been to Slovenia and places?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Why do you answer a question with a question?”
Opa Nagl smiled.
“Because I’m from up here. Because you’re a Gendarme. How do you like that?”
“I was just curious. Somebody asked me. I was thinking about it. That’s all.”
“Asked you what?”
“If we went to Slovenia or Croatia or those places. Our family.”
“What, holidays, the beach thing?”
“I suppose. I don’t know really.”
“This strong beer for you, maybe?”
It was Felix’s turn to smile. He felt his grandfather’s hand on his shoulder.
“Why are we sitting here like two idiots? None of that brooding, like, well — let’s go in.”
“Like who?”
“No, nobody.”
“You mean Mom.”
“Did I say that? Your mother is a gentle girl, not a broody type.
Quiet.”
“Who then?”
“Who who! Christ am I hearing the owl here? Never mind.”
Then it came to Felix.
