Sea Air (27 page)

Christoph nodded and took a gulp of beer. “All right,” he said. “If you say so.”

“Then, cheers!” I picked up my glass, and the others did the same. “To success!”

“What’s the next step?” asked Lars. He used his sleeve to wipe beer foam from his mouth and then grabbed a menu.

“We’ll show this letter to the mayor and see what happens. We need to make sure he signs on and commits the city to its share of the funding. It’s not his decision alone—he’ll have to take this to various committees, but I think that’s only a formality. Everyone has been informed about the project and has read up on the details—at least, I hope they have,” Marco said.

“The next big step will be the reversal of the decision to dissolve Christoph’s company—hopefully, soon,” added Mathis.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Christoph sighed.

“I don’t blame you,” I muttered. A healthy degree of skepticism couldn’t hurt.

“So did you figure out the situation with the blond?” Lars asked. We stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Mathis, who’d stayed inside to wrap up an urgent phone call. Marco and Christoph had already excused themselves and headed off to other appointments.

“Which blond?” I was completely clueless.

“You thought she was Mathis’s girlfriend, but from what I’ve heard he’s decided on you.” I thought I detected a hint of reproach.

“Oh her!” I laughed. “You know who that was? Your mother, Helga.”

Lars looked confused for a moment, then started laughing. “What a ridiculous misunderstanding! It’s true, they were spending time together working on some project that Mathis and some of Helga’s numerous acquaintances . . .” He paused. “I don’t actually remember the details. It doesn’t really matter. Anyway, how’s it going with you guys? Are you happy?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Mathis seems happier and more balanced since you two have been together, at least most of the time. Sometimes, though, I think it’s all a bit much for him.”

“You sound like you don’t approve.”

“I don’t mean that—it’s up to you how you live your life. But if I were in your place . . .” He seemed to be searching for just the right words. “Well, I don’t think I could accept it. But like I said, it’s your life.” He gave me a mischievous smile.

“It’s not exactly my dream situation, believe me. I’d be happier if Mathis could live with me all the time. All of this is harder than I’d expected.”

“It doesn’t sound like a great situation for you.”

“It’s not perfect, but it’s better now than it was in the beginning. Mathis doesn’t belong to just me, but he has decided to be with me and he stays as often as he can. And he stands by me. All of this is much more than I had before.”

“If that’s enough for you, that’s good.” Lars sounded unconvinced.

“No—like I said, it’s not enough. But at the moment, it’s all we’ve got. He won’t leave his family.”

“No. He won’t.”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t wanted to hear it stated so definitively.

“So what should I do, in your opinion?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Sorry to state the obvious. I thought you hadn’t realized that yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, up until now, the one who’s called all the shots is Mathis. And you?” He gently poked at my stomach with his index finger. “You bow to his decisions.”

I nodded. None of this was news to me. But why was Lars saying it?

“Are you trying to talk me out of being with Mathis?” I asked carefully.

“Oh, no,” Lars said. “Quite the opposite: I hope it all works out for you, Nele, and I get the impression that you’re good for Mathis, too. But none of this is going to be easy for you, that’s all I’m saying.” I was about to tell Lars that I would be fine, really, when Mathis walked around the corner.

“I’m ready,” he said. “Do you need a ride somewhere, Lars, or did you drive your own car?”

“Neither. I have some errands to run in the city. You two be good—and keep me posted.”

As Lars disappeared into the crowd, Mathis brushed back a lock of hair from my forehead. “You look lost in thought. Is something bothering you?”

“Uh . . . no,” I said. “Come on, let’s go do something fun. Do you have to go to your office?”

“Not necessarily. Anyway, the weather’s too beautiful to get any work done. What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s take a long walk. I’m quite stiff from sitting in front of the computer, and I need to move. Maybe we can stop for coffee on the way.”

“Good idea. Should we pick up Paula before or after our walk?”

“We’ll go get her at five. She’s at the swimming pool today with her group from school, and she hates long walks anyway.”

“Perfect.” He gave my solemn face a critical look and added, “Well,
almost
perfect. Now I just have to find a way to make you laugh, but I’m up for the challenge.” He linked his arm with mine and walked me down the street to the car.

D
o you know who’s pregnant?”

Oh, no, I thought. Here we go again. It had occurred to me, to my great relief, that all the eligible single men in my mother’s extensive circle of acquaintances must finally be married off, since she hadn’t brought up the marriage issue in weeks. But these newly wedded couples would soon be expecting babies, and this just gave my mother a whole new subject to run into the ground. I saw bad times ahead for me.

“Who?”

“Anna Nass . . . uh . . . Treber-Nass.”

“So?”

“But she’s Heiner’s wife, so she should be having a child with him!”

It took me a minute to realize what she was getting at, and once I did, I found my sympathies lay with Anna. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to be with someone other than Heiner.

My mother sounded honestly disgusted. “Heiner would never do such a thing! If only you had married him, Nele, I’m sure you two could have—”

“Mother!” Just the thought of having to sleep with Heiner was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat. I couldn’t imagine having a child with him. I much preferred having had a child with my crazy, wannabe revolutionary ex. At least he wasn’t as pale as an alien, like Heiner.

“You’ve forgotten I already have a child, Mother. In the future, please keep your stories about gestating babies to yourself.”

“Oh, Nele, an only child is nothing to brag about. Children need brothers and sisters, but now that you have an elderly boyfriend,
that’s
not going to happen. At least with Steffen, who is a
doctor
—”

“Butt out, Mother!” My words came out sounding far shriller than I’d intended, but the word
Steffen
had pushed all my buttons. Thankfully, he hadn’t shown up again since my vacation, and I fervently hoped he wouldn’t in the near future. “Go give your other kids this lecture. Frank and Jochen have just one child each, and Sabine—”

“Oh, Cordula would love to have another child,” interrupted my mother. “They’re
trying,
but it’s not really working.”

“That’s good news, at least. The world doesn’t need another Olivia.”

“You just say that because you’re upset that Heiner—”

I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence because I hung up the phone.

Just then, Paula walked into the room holding a piece of paper. “Was that Grandma?”

I grinned. Paula had already made the connection between hanging up the phone and talking to Grandma.

“Yes, she’s going crazy again. Are you finished with your homework?”

“Not yet. We’re supposed to memorize the table of contents for the Old Testament, but I can’t read the names.”

“You’re supposed to what?” I stared at Paula, convinced I must have heard her wrong.

“Look here.” She shoved the piece of paper under my nose. “Can you help me with it?”

I looked, and there, indeed—arranged neatly—was not a section of text from the Old Testament, but the table of contents.

“Are you sure that this is a homework assignment and not some kind of consequence?” I couldn’t imagine a teacher giving out such a pointless, waste-of-time homework assignment.

“I’m sure. I already finished my consequence.”

I tucked that piece of information away to deal with later. At this point, I didn’t need to know what she’d done to deserve that.

“Who assigned this homework to you?”

“Our religion teacher.”

“And he was serious about this?”

Paula gave me a quizzical look. She took all homework seriously, however idiotic it might be. “Can you help me or not?”

“No, Paula. I’m not going to help you, because you’re not going to do this homework.”

“But I have to—”

“You can do homework that makes sense. Mind-numbing memorization of the Old Testament doesn’t make any sense, it’s just pure harassment. Just tear that paper up and throw it in the trash.”

Paula stared at me, dumbfounded.

“I’ll talk with your teacher, Paula. Don’t worry about going to class without your homework tomorrow.”

“All right.” Paula looked dubious as she walked away, but a little later, I heard her tearing up the piece of paper. I got on the phone, to call Sandra.

“I wanted to hear just how beautifully Anneke can recite the table of contents of the Old Testament,” I said when Sandra answered.

“Why on earth would she ever do that? Are you all right, Nele?”

“I guess you didn’t check Anneke’s homework yet.”

“This garbage you’re talking about is homework?”

“I see that you and I are in agreement on this. Paula just ripped up her paper.”

“Anneke probably will, too.”

“Good. I think I’ll call a couple of other parents. That way we can all call and chat with the teacher.”

“You do that. I’ll probably do the same.”

“Sounds like a plan. Bye, Sandra.”

“Ciao!”

I made a few more calls, and a half hour later it was clear that the teacher had a rough night ahead of him—unless he unplugged his phone. It was time to get this party started.

“Good evening, Mr. Pfarrer. It’s Nele Martens—Paula’s mother.”

“Good evening, Ms. Martens. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering: Did something out of the ordinary happen today in your class? I mean, did Paula have some kind of problem with her behavior?”

“No, what makes you think that? Paula always works nicely with the other students.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. What’s this about?” He sounded irritated now.

“Then why is she being punished?”

“Punished?”

“She told me she’s supposed to memorize the table of contents of the Old Testament. Have I misunderstood?”

“No, that’s right. But that’s not a punishment, it’s regular homework.”

“On the surface, those two things look like the same thing.”

“Sorry?”

“Mr. Pfarrer, my daughter goes to school to learn something useful—or at least that was my assumption until she came home today with this assignment, which, quite honestly, seems completely pointless to me. How can memorizing a table of contents from any book—even the Old Testament—be a meaningful exercise? What’s next—memorizing pages from the phone book?”

“But Ms. Martens, there’s no comparison. You have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything, Mr. Pfarrer, and neither does my daughter. What can it possibly matter whether Paula knows which comes first, the Psalms or the writings of Moses—or anyone else, for that matter? If she’s dying to know, she can look it up in the Bible anytime she wants. That’s what tables of contents are for! It would be a shame if this is the most exciting thing you could find to teach in a religion class. Because if it is, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to withdraw my daughter.”

“But, Ms. Martens—for God’s sake, you can’t do that!” Mr. Pfarrer sounded completely beside himself.

“Why not?”

“Ms. Martens, if people start pulling their children out of class, pretty soon we won’t have any more enrolled in religious education.”

“Which is why, for your sake, I hope things don’t have to go that far. Good night, Mr. Pfarrer.”

I hung up before he could say another word. I wanted the other parents to have a chance to play, too.

The next morning I flipped through the newspaper at breakfast, and as I scanned the headlines, one in particular stunned me. I lowered my cup to the table slowly. “Impossible,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

“What’s impossible, Momma?” asked Paula. “Did someone die?”

“No, Paula, nobody died.” What was this fascination she had lately with people dying? I wondered if I needed to be worried. “It’s just—”

“Let me see!” Paula grabbed the newspaper out of my hand. “Day Care . . . on . . . Larchen . . . Way . . . to . . . Be . . . Built . . . Next . . . Year,” she sounded out. “What’s impossible about that?” She pushed the newspaper away and devoted herself to her Nutella sandwich.

“Hey,” I said. “This day care is a great thing that we’ve been waiting for for a long time. If we get a new day care center, then baby Helen can play there, which means that Ines can—”

“Can you make me a Nutella sandwich for school lunch, Momma?” Paula clearly wasn’t interested in my explanation.

“No, you can take a sausage sandwich or a cheese. You know that.”

“I’m going to go get my stuff.”

So that’s how it is,
I thought. Paula clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, which was fine with me. I made her sandwich while reading the article. Marco hadn’t called me after the meeting the night before. I wondered why—he knew this project was close to my heart.

Paula came back into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Did you see my barrettes?”

“No, it’s your job to keep track of your own . . .” I stopped short when I saw her. She looked dramatically different. “You have at least ten clips in your hair already,” I said. To my dismay, Paula had pulled all her curls back into a bun; only one lock of hair still hung stubbornly in front. “That curl on your forehead looks really sweet,” I said.

“No, it doesn’t! Nobody else has stupid curls, just me. But now they’re gone—except for this one stupid one!” She pushed the orphaned curl back, but as soon as she let go, it bounced right back into a corkscrew.

“I don’t have any barrettes, either,” I told her. “You’ll probably have to—”

“Then I’ll cut it off!” Paula was already on the way to the bathroom.

“Wait!” I ran after her, sure she’d make good on her threat. “I’ll try to find another barrette—or maybe we can pin the curl back with the others.”

I managed to loosen one of the barrettes and stuff the remaining curl into it. “Happy?” I asked as Paula examined herself critically in the mirror. She nodded. It struck me that she suddenly looked much older. Sighing, I returned to the kitchen and stuffed her sandwich in her school bag.

“Wow, you look so cool,” Anneke told Paula when she arrived at our door. “I need to try that, too.”

Great,
I thought,
Sandra will be thrilled
. At least my child wouldn’t be the only one who suddenly looked all grown up.

After the girls left, I sat down to read the newspaper article in peace. It didn’t state what was behind the sudden change of heart about the day care center. It just said that construction would begin early the next year. I called Marco to see if I could find out more.

“Oh, hi, Nele. I was just picking up the phone to call you. Have you read the paper already?”

“Yes, I was shocked. Why didn’t you call me right after the meeting to tell me about this?” I reproached him. “I figured nothing big had happened when I didn’t hear from you.”

“I tried to, but you must have been busy. Then I conked out on the couch until midnight.”

“It must have been an exhausting meeting,” I joked.

“You would have had a lot of fun.”

“Fun? Since when are these meetings fun?”

“Schlüter had just opened the meeting when an unexpected visitor dropped in.”

“Visitor?” I asked, even though I already knew what was coming.

“The honorable Ms. Katthaus. Eva-Maria Katthaus. Did you know something about this?”

I grinned. “
Ms. Katthaus,
of course,” I said. “Head of women’s affairs for our city.”

“That’s the one.”

“Let me guess: she chewed out all the men, and then they tucked their tails between their legs and decided to build the day care?”

“She probably planned it that way, but it didn’t have to go that far.”

“Were all the men upset to see her there?”

“Not all of them were upset, but they all looked scared to death when they saw her burst in. It was our dear director of the building department who got the worst of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Schlüter was sitting with his back to the door, and it didn’t even register with him that someone had come in. You know how he loves to hear himself talk. In the end, that was his undoing.”

“Get to the point,” I said. “What happened?”

“Ms. Katthaus showed up just as Mr. Schlüter was going off on a rant about the role of women in general, and mothers in particular.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to have missed this!”

“Who knows, if you’d been in the room, maybe he would have held back a bit. But just as she walked in, he said something like, ‘If women would just stick to their natural role, we wouldn’t need to build any damn day care centers, and the unemployment situation would look very different.’ And then he gave that smarmy laugh of his. The memory of Ms. Katthaus’s expression at that point is going to haunt my nightmares for weeks.”

“What did she do—castrate him?”

“More or less. She seemed absolutely frozen in place at first and just looked around the room. We tried signaling to Mr. Schlüter that she was there, but he was so caught up in his idiotic drivel, he didn’t notice. Then Ms. Katthaus ran up to the table and slammed her documents down with a bang, right next to him. You should have seen him jump! He’s lucky he doesn’t have a heart condition. He looked furious and turned to scream at whoever would dare do such a thing to him, but at the sight of Ms. Katthaus, his face went instantly from bright red to white.”

“What did she do then?”

“She looked at him and started to talk in a voice so quiet and angry; it was like she was practically hissing. She said, ‘I assume that dear Susanne already knows how you feel about this subject, or I would inform her myself. And now, if you’re done overcompensating for your manly inadequacies with macho talk and arrogant posturing, I’ll thank you to turn your attention to the task of approving the day care center on Larchen Way. Otherwise, there’s a good possibility that the bad news that you didn’t approve it will be in the newspapers tomorrow. I recommend you announce to the press tonight that construction will begin early next year. I’m sure this is in all of our best interests, aren’t you, Mr. Schlüter?’ Then she grabbed her papers and stormed out again.”

I laughed. “It sounds like a beautiful performance. But who’s Susanne?”

“His wife.”

“I gather she wouldn’t find her husband’s comments very amusing.”

“Not at all, especially since she works with a number of women’s organizations that advocate for free childcare services. God only knows what story he told her about why the Larchen Way center hadn’t been approved. If she gets wind of what happened yesterday, Schlüter’s going to have hell to pay. ‘Dear Susanne’ ran amok after the last press release, or so I’ve heard, though he may well have persuaded her that the press misquoted him.”