Rain Girl (5 page)

“You still haven’t cleaned this place up!” she said every time after she had to visit the morgue. She walked into his room and sat down on his bed, sighing. “You live in a pigsty. You come and go as you please. Your life is running through your fingers.”

Now that, he thought, would be bad . . . if life
were
running through his fingers. Which it wasn’t. Clearly not. Not anymore. Because Marie had noticed him. Finally. And she loved him. Life was good. Marie loved him. Finally. He scribbled on the paper.

Marie in the streetcar,

Marie, the lovely.

Marie, the tiny.

Marie in the streetcar.

What was that supposed to be? A poem? A love poem?

Only Marie has the key to my heart. Mouse rhymes with louse rhymes with Klaus.

What a bunch of shit! He laughed, shook his head, turned in his chair and made the room spin.

“It still isn’t cleaned up,” Franza would say. “You live in a pigsty; you come and go as you please. Your life is running through your fingers. Oh, Ben! Ben!”

She was away a lot. She’d had this job even while he was still very young.

“Chasing the bad guys!” his father always said with a touch of sarcasm.

And her voice was always the same when she said “Oh, Ben!” As if she were overcome with amazement.

He didn’t make up the amazement part. Phrases like that never were one’s own. Phrases like that were centuries old; they came ambling down through the centuries, listening with ears like a lynx, and at the first opportunity they latched onto the right coat like a tick. His coat was just the right fit. As if gripped by an overwhelming amazement.

He, Ben, collected phrases like this. He found it exciting, special. Like Marie. Except Marie was more special. She was the most special thing that had ever happened to him.

The bit of apple peel stuck between her teeth would already be on its final journey.

14

“Twins,” Felix said looking miserable. “That will be tough.”

Franza’s eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding!” she said.

“Nope,” he said. “It’s true. Even Angelika is shocked now.”

They were drinking coffee from the vending machine. The coffeemaker had finally died, and no one had bought a new one. It was Wednesday morning, ten o’clock, and Franza had shown up for work on time, no detours to Port. She was haunted with thoughts of the girl, who wanted to be recognized, wanted her name back.

They’d gone through every missing person’s report. Nothing. They would give her picture to the newspapers.

“She’s due early November,” Felix said. “Then we’ll have five of them. Imagine that! Five! Unbelievable!”

He sniffled a little and shook his head. “She had an appointment with the gynecologist yesterday afternoon, and that’s when she got the big news.”

Franza pulled the container of cookies out of her bag. “Here you go,” she said. “Our daily sugar ration. You can have it every day from now on if you want. Makes you happy.”

He nodded and made a face. “I appreciate it,” he said, “but I’ve got a toothache on top of everything else. Since yesterday. Since I ate those things you baked. I’ve hardly slept, popping pills all night. And then this news.”

He groaned. “Do you think you could call your husband and ask if he can fit me in?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly, “if that’s such a good idea. It could be more painful than necessary for you. Maybe you should look for a new dentist.”

Felix looked at her with surprise. “Why is that? I always see Max.”

Well,
Franza thought,
if “always see” means every five years and only when it’s urgent, then yes, “always see” is true.

“You could almost say he is my family dentist,” Felix mused aloud and examined his tooth with his tongue, the pill-popping finally having the desired effect.

“Explain,” he said next. “Come on, out with it. You know who the expert is in questioning here. So, what have I done? Why can’t I see Max anymore? Why can’t Max touch my teeth anymore?”

Franza sighed and drummed on the desk with her fingernails. Ancient pictures of Max and Ben laughed out of an ancient picture frame. Even back then things hadn’t been right.
All right,
she thought,
he won’t let me get away with it anyway.
She swallowed and prepared herself. “I believe he thinks I’m cheating on him. And I believe he suspects you.”

“Me!” Felix gave a surprised laugh. “Hallelujah! Now that’s some news.”

He took a cookie, nibbled carefully, pushed it into his left cheek immediately, and washed it down with coffee.

“And? Are you?”

“What?”

“Cheating on him.”

Franza remained silent. Felix grinned and shook his head. “Franza, Franza!” he said. “You’re something else.”

They did it standing up, Franza and Port, they did it lying down or sitting, elaborately and precisely, as lovers do.

They did it like lovers.

They had been relying more and more on words lately. She didn’t object. It felt dangerous.

“Don’t you love your husband anymore?” Felix asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “So much has happened over the years. I don’t know.”

Felix nodded like he knew what she was talking about. “We’re past forty,” he said. “Doesn’t everything change then? Over and over? Doesn’t everything have to change over and over again? And when you face death all the time . . .”

He took a sip of coffee, staring straight ahead. “Angelika,” he said, “used to be scared a lot. At night. Lying awake. But not anymore. Now she has the children.”

Franza nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I know what you mean.”

“The girl,” Felix said. “I gave her picture to the newspapers.”

“Good,” Franza said. “Good.”

15

The rippled surface of the Danube mirrored the trees on the bank. Occasionally, fish jumped in the clear waters along the edge. You could see rocks, sand, leaves, driftwood, and the shadows of the bushes at the bottom.

Yellow dots sparkled in the green meadow, sometimes purple, poppies glowing, elder flowering.

“Come!” Marie said. “Come here, my Ben!”

A jogger wearing a burgundy-red T-shirt dashed along the water’s edge and was gone as fast as he’d come. Another came along, slower, exhausted. They heard his breathing, his steps. He gave them a nod, and they nodded back.

“I used to come here a lot,” Marie said. “I loved it. The quiet, and that all you heard was the wind and the trees. And then the frogs croaking. Or the ducks. I can’t tell the difference.” She laughed.

“Frogs,” Ben said, grinning. “They’re frogs, you city slicker!”

“Is that so?” she laughed. “Country bumpkin!”

He put his hand on her arm.

“You’re nice, Ben,” she said in the middle of the kiss. “Will you come to Berlin with me? To wish me luck?”

“Yes,” Ben said. “Of course. Of course I’ll come.”

He leaned back and looked into the sun. Everything was clearer when Marie was around. She was clarity personified to him, clearing his mind, his feelings, his life.

“I’m going to study biology,” he said. “And when I’m finished, I won’t get a job, because you can’t get a job with just a biology degree. My father is going to sell his practice because I’m not taking over, and then he will generously give me a monthly allowance, which will see us through while you’re becoming a famous actress. Someday you’ll make it big, and then you’ll bring home the money, and I’ll be a stay-at-home dad and raise our children, and I’ll bring them here regularly so that, when they’re older, they’ll know that frogs croak and ducks quack. By then, my father will have moved to Sweden. My mother will keep chasing murderers till the day she dies.”

“Wow,” she said, grinning. “What a plan!” She pulled him to his feet. “Come on!” she cried, “Let’s jump into the water.”

“What?” he squealed. “In the cold! Never!”

He put up a fight, they wrestled. “Let go!” he said. “Way too cold.”

“So what?” she said, certain of victory. “We’re wearing warm clothes!”

She pushed and pulled to get him in, and it was as cold as he’d expected. “You frog!” he shouted, and she laughed.

On the hill the yellow wheat rolled gently like an ocean, stretching far down toward the western bank.

After they hung their clothes on the bushes to dry, and the shadows had dissolved into the black mass that was the Danube, they made love. Her hair fell onto his face, and he buried his nose in it; he closed his eyes and felt her touch, which was like foam on the dark river waters.

16

The blood on the stones was the girl’s, DNA analysis confirmed. Traces of her blood were also found on the shoes.

“Well!” the coroner said. “We have a young woman, early to mid twenties. Before the accident she would have been in relatively good health, maybe a bit malnourished, but that’s nothing unusual for a female that age.”

He stopped, raised an eyebrow, and grinned suggestively as he glanced at Franza’s twenty pounds too many. She parried with an indifferent smile. “Look at yourself, Borger.”

He cleared his throat, patted his belly, and continued to grin. “Whatever you say, Franza, my dear. Shall we go for a bite to eat later? You know I adore your hips.”

He turned and grinned at Arthur, their young colleague, who remained discreetly in the background—not because he was discreet by nature, but because he was feeling sick to his stomach and trying not to let it show. “You know, I love her hips!”

Arthur had no choice but to return the grin, but didn’t really know what to say. He hemmed and hawed and then finally mumbled, “They are nice hips.” He cursed himself inwardly because he could feel how he was blushing.

Franza and Borger laughed, and Franza was surprised to see Borger looking Arthur up and down with interest. She was sure Arthur had noticed, too, and maybe that was why he’d turned red. Arthur was smart and easily drew the right conclusions. He had potential, and Franza and Felix were training him as their successor.