Sea Air (11 page)

W
hen we walked in, I saw that every last seat was filled. This was my last chance to escape.

“I can’t do this, Marco. I’m going to be sick.”

“You’re the perfect person to talk about this stuff, Nele. You know more about this than anyone else on the panel. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces. This is going to be a lot of fun!”

“Yeah. Fun for all the people who’ll be laughing at me.”

“The audience is going to be impressed, not amused. Now, go get ’em! They’re waiting for you. The others are already sitting down.”

I looked over at the stage. Three dignified-looking men had taken their places and were flipping through their cheat sheets. There were two empty places left. One was marked “Dr. Horst Kleinert” and the other “Nele Martens.” There was no going back now.

When I stepped onto the stage, I noticed surprised looks in the audience. It appeared that a sharply dressed young woman was not what they had anticipated. The people didn’t look like they expected much from me. Well, I’d show them! I searched for Marco’s face and found him right in front. Good. If I fainted, he could come over to help me. He gave me a thumbs-up and winked. I tried to smile back, but I probably just looked like I was in pain. The seat next to me remained empty. The moderator stood up, and the hall fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to today’s event. I want to thank our panelists here on the stage, all of whom have come ready to discuss the theme, sustainable urban redevelopment, and—hopefully—to increase our understanding of this controversial and fascinating subject. Unfortunately, we just learned that one of our experts, Dr. Horst Kleinert, has suddenly fallen ill. Thankfully, one of his colleagues has graciously offered to take his place and is on his way here now. Since he’ll be a little late, I suggest we . . . Oh, wonderful! I see that our final guest has just entered the hall. Please join me in welcoming . . .”

All heads, including mine, turned toward the door. I froze. This could not be happening. I longed for a hole to open in the stage floor and swallow me up.
Mathis! Mathis is going to be the fifth member of the discussion panel
. I pushed down the hysterical laughter rising up within me. I looked at Marco, who appeared to have noticed my rising panic but had no idea how to interpret it. He made a vague hand movement that probably meant something like,
Relax! Stay loose!
Very funny. How was I supposed to relax on the worst day of my life? Step by step, impending disaster in the form of Mathis Hagena grew closer. He hadn’t yet recognized me.

“Please be seated, Dr. Hagena,” said the moderator.

Dr.
Hagena! One more detail of his life that he’d left at home while on vacation. He stepped onto the stage, pulled back his chair, and stuck out a hand to shake mine.
What a gentleman, that doctor,
I mockingly thought! I briefly considered ignoring his hand, then all of a sudden realized I didn’t want to.
Watch out, here I come!
Smiling with confidence, I turned and looked him directly in the eyes. His expression, which started out as calm, became one of shock. He turned white as chalk, nodded at me, and then dropped into his chair. I looked over to Marco, who still had no idea what was going on. Everything about him looked confused.

“Let’s begin by introducing our panelists. Ladies first.” The moderator praised me for courageously agreeing to match wits with the experienced men on the panel, then moved on to introduce the others. At last, he arrived at Mathis.

“Many of you know Dr. Mathis Hagena from other panel events or from his various publications. Together with his colleague, he leads the renowned architectural firm Hagena & Kleinert, which has been committed to the ecological reconstruction of entire districts over the past few years.”

He was
that
Hagena? His name was legendary in our industry, but I’d made no connection between Dr. Hagena and my Mathis, the sailor. The look on Marco’s face told me that the name Mathis Hagena, emphasis on the word
Mathis,
rang a bell. He looked worriedly from Mathis to me, then back again. I could tell that he didn’t like what he saw at all. I risked a glance in Mathis’s direction. He stared ahead into the audience. Still deathly pale, he fumbled around with his pen. Pearls of sweat glistened on his forehead. I wondered whether it might be a good idea to call a doctor now. He looked like he was going to need one. When he turned toward me, he was in such despair, I wanted to lower his head to my maternal bosom and comfort him.

“Each of our experts will begin with a brief introductory statement. Since I didn’t come up with anything better, I thought we’d proceed alphabetically. Ha-ha! Mr. Albrecht, if you would get things started for us . . .”

Alphabetical order. That meant I’d be . . . fourth, right after Mathis. This gave me a chance to hear the others speak and try to collect my thoughts. I tried to pretend that I was sitting next to a stranger. This was a business event, not a soap opera. I succeeded with great difficulty in following the others’ introductory remarks and managed to deliver my own reasonably coherent statement. When I was finished, Marco—who had likely feared the worst—fell back against his chair in relief. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The panel turned into a lively and contentious discussion. From the start, my learned colleagues treated me with condescension, acknowledging my statements with a patronizing smile. At first. When I stood my ground, firmly and skillfully defending my position, they began to show me respect and treat me like an equal. Only Mathis stayed quiet. I figured he was probably still in shock. Well, it served him right!

“A substantial increase in renewable energies is just unrealistic,” remarked Mr. Albrecht about a half hour into the discussion. He threw a challenging look at me, knowing I wouldn’t let this pass. He’d been provoking me from the start, and I’d had enough.

“I could not disagree more strongly,” I said. “It is my personal and professional opinion that the development of renewable forms of energy—from wind to water to solar—represents our very best chance for each country to create a sustainable and equitable twenty-first century. Not only that—”

“Absolutely,” Mathis interrupted.

“Dr. Hagena, could you say more about this?” The moderator seemed thrilled to hear Mathis’s voice again. I bristled.

“I wasn’t finished!” I said in a loud voice as Mathis opened his mouth to speak.

“Excuse me?” The moderator gave us a bewildered grin.

“I believe Dr. Hagena’s remarks can wait until I’ve finished mine,” I said, now with more certainty. The audience murmured and I heard a few giggles.

“Excuse me, Dr. Hagena,” said the moderator. “Will you allow—”

“I do believe Dr. Hagena will
allow
it. And if he doesn’t? Well, that’s just too bad.” I turned toward Mathis. “I will now continue with my remarks. This is the best thing for both of us, Dr. Hagena. Someday you will understand.”

It suddenly became very quiet in the lecture hall. Marco covered his face with his hands. Well, he’d brought me here. Now he’d have to wait it out. Every eye in the room was on Mathis and me. “Oh, Nele,” he said, his puzzled look turning into a smile. He started to laugh. “You are incredible!” He laughed so hard, tears came to his eyes.

The poor moderator looked overwhelmed by the situation. “Given the circumstances . . . uh . . . ha-ha . . . I think we should take a quick break. Let’s pick this back up in ten minutes.” He gave me a withering look and hurried from the room.

Without a second glance at Mathis, I walked out into the hall. But I didn’t feel as strong as I looked. My knees wobbled so much, I was afraid I might fall on my face, right in front of everybody. Mathis’s sudden appearance was bad enough. But then I’d gone and made myself into a laughingstock in front of all my peers. Marco would be mad as hell, and rightly so. How could I possibly look these people in the eye again? And how, for God’s sake, would I be able to survive the next round of discussions? In the hallway, I felt every eye on me. I could hear people whispering, probably about the young woman in blue who’d had the nerve to go toe-to-toe with the experts, challenge one of the most respected architects in the business, and then storm off like she owned the place.

I made a beeline for the ladies’ room and splashed cold water onto my face as I let the water run. I looked in the mirror. Not only did I feel like a wet poodle, I looked like one, too.

“Well, you really let him have it,” observed a middle-aged woman beside me. She met my eyes in the mirror and winked as she left.

I considered making my escape through a bathroom window but dismissed the idea. With my luck, I’d get my butt stuck in the frame. Then I’d
really
have to move out of the country. I took a deep breath, swung the door open, and walked out into the hallway—right into Mathis’s arms.

“Oops,” he said.

“Were you waiting for me?” I could think of nothing better to say.

“Yes, actually, I was.” I thought I heard a note of impatience in his voice.

“Well?” Was he going to chew me out right here, in front of everyone?

“Can we talk after this is over?”

“Why don’t you just spit out what you have to say right now?”

But before Mathis could respond, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you all right, Nele?” I turned and saw Marco’s concerned eyes. Under any other circumstances, I would have dropped my head on his shoulder and howled. But letting down my guard now was out of the question. Marco gave my back a couple of pats, and I stood up straighter. Mathis looked from me to Marco with his bright-blue eyes.

“Sorry. Marco . . . Mathis. Mathis . . . Marco.”

The two gentlemen shook hands with great formality, each one muttering a stiff, “Nice to meet you.”

“Can I have a moment, Nele?” Marco took me by my elbow and steered me over to Mr. Albrecht from the panel.

“You are a remarkable young woman, Ms. Martens,” Albrecht began.

I gave him a look. Was he kidding?

“I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t know anyone like you. I wanted to ask, is there any chance you might be tempted away from your current position?”

Who, this train wreck? I threw Marco a searching look, but he gave nothing away, just looked from one of us to the other. I gave Albrecht a smile.

“It’s really nice of you to ask. But I know where I belong.” I threw Marco a long hard stare.

“That’s too bad. If you change your mind, just give us a call.” Mr. Albrecht pressed his business card into my hand and disappeared into the crowd.

“Can you come with me now, please?” Marco took a nervous look at his watch. “Excuse us, Dr. Hagena?” he said to Mathis, who had followed us. He nodded and walked away, his shoulders sagging in a way that looked truly pitiful. I wished I could run after him and throw myself into his arms.

“Do you think you can get through another round of this, Nele?”

“No problem.”

“No problem? How about without the dramatics?”

I traced the lines of the parquet floor with my shoe.

“I was just surprised. I’m really sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ve talked with a lot of people during the break, and they’re all quite impressed with your knowledge of the subject.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“No, Nele, you were really good. And it looks like that one mistake hasn’t messed anything up. In fact, you kind of broke the ice. Even Albrecht wants to recruit you. By the way, that’s totally out of the question, but I wanted you to hear him for yourself. As far as I’m concerned, you kept a pretty cool head out there in spite of everything. You represented yourself really well, Nele.”

“Thanks. So you still trust me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks. I’ll make you proud.” Feeling better, I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he returned it with a kiss to my forehead. At just that moment, I saw Mathis walk up again. He passed us without saying a word.

As soon as I got home, I ripped off my uncomfortable clothes. I was sticky from sweat and smelled terrible. I jumped in the shower and reflected on the day’s events as the water ran over my body.

The surprise encounter with Mathis had completely thrown me. I could hardly believe it had happened; it felt so surreal. As I looked back, it was as if I’d been standing next to myself and listening to my voice, which had driven so much of the discussion but seemed not to belong to me. At several points, the debate had been between just Mathis and me. He had participated more often as the night wore on, especially in those moments when I seized the floor. On their own volition, the other panelists had held back and let us spar. When the moderator deliberately tried to involve them in Mathis’s and my arguments, they waved him off impatiently; even they felt that something special was taking place. In those minutes, I felt transported back to the
Spieker,
where Mathis and I had sat for hours, discussing the things that mattered to us. After the panel discussion was over, I had to do interviews with journalists. I had no opportunity to talk to Mathis, and I still didn’t know what he wanted to discuss with me. When I stepped outside, Marco was waiting for me, and to my disappointment, there was no trace of Mathis. Marco drove me home in silence. We would debrief on Monday.

I was still emotionally worked up when I stepped out of the shower, but at least I smelled better. I had to hurry to go pick up Paula, but instead I wrapped myself in my bathrobe and called Sandra.

“Nele! How did the panel go?”

“It was a nightmare. Mathis was there.”

“Mathis came to the panel?
The
Mathis?”

“Yes. Only he didn’t just come to the panel. He sat right next to me,
on
the panel.”

“Oh, shit. How did you not know this beforehand?”

“He was a last-minute replacement.”

“You have to tell me
everything
.”

“I’d love to, but can we do it tomorrow? I’m drained. Please don’t be mad. I just need some time alone.”