Authors: Peter Stamm
He wrote to me a couple of times, said Sonia, crazy letters, he seemed to be deliriously happy. I wrote back to warn him, but he took no notice of my alarm, and only repeated how fantastic his life was, and how free and un-tethered he felt.
Eventually Elsbeth got into harder drugs. Rüdiger gave her money, so as to stop her having to get hold of it in other ways. She promised to quit, then she disappeared for days on end, and when she returned she was stuffed full of dope. There’s this park in Zurich where a few thousand addicts live, said Sonia. I nodded, I could remember the pictures in the newspaper. Eventually Rüdiger gave up, said Sonia, I think he accepted that he couldn’t help her. He looked for an apartment and found this job in the think tank, but he’s still obsessed with her to this day. She keeps turning up on his doorstep, asking for money. I think—I hope—he doesn’t give her any. I can’t imagine what’s so spellbinding about a woman like that, and a life without responsibility and without aims. I thought I could see the attraction myself, but said nothing.
We spent another two days in the mountains. We went for walks and swam and went to the sauna. I gradually adjusted to the setting and didn’t feel as nervous as I had at the beginning. Ferdy seemed to calm down a bit as well, and started talking about other things than his money and his success. In time, Sonia and Alice got along better, and on one of our walks Sonia even raised the subject of adoption, though admittedly without going into detail. Can’t you have babies then?, asked Alice. Sonia said we didn’t know, all the medical tests were fine. With Alice you just take her to bed, and bingo she’s pregnant just like that, said Ferdy. It made me wonder if he was really so keen on having kids. Alice had always wanted children, even when she was with me she had gone on about it the whole time. I thought I’d ask him about that, but in the end I didn’t. What was he going to say, anyway? In a different context he’d said you could plan a building, but not a life. Sonia had contradicted him, but presumably he was right, and hadn’t done too badly with his philosophy.
In the new year, I visited Ivona to talk about the baby. I’d had to promise Sonia to quit Ivona once and for all, and I was grimly determined to do just that. You must understand, I said, I’ve been married to Sonia for seven years, I love her. Ivona said nothing, and I was forced to remember how right at the beginning of our affair she once said she loved me. Her presence was disagreeable to me again, but I forced myself to be friendly. Did you think about it?, I asked her. She said Bruno had promised to help her. I’ll help you too, I said, whether you keep the baby or not. It’s a matter of whether you’ll allow our child to be raised free of worry and in a protective environment or not. If you work the hours that you do, you’ll hardly have any time to look after it.
By now I had visited the social welfare department, where I was told parental rights were automatically with the mother, but if we drafted a joint agreement, then the child might grow up with us. Even then, however, the mother kept her rights to the child. Adoption would be a more effective method. That way the mother’s out of the picture, the social worker said.
I felt bad about taking the child from Ivona, but I was firmly convinced that it was the best for all concerned. I explained the process to her. Ivona didn’t say anything. She sat there mutely, staring at her feet. I said she had to decide, and the sooner the better. I wouldn’t see her anymore now. She was to call me when she knew what she wanted.
I didn’t tell Sonia about Ivona’s indecision. I didn’t want to alarm her, and I felt sure that Ivona would be cooperative and everything would go well. Sonia started with her customary efficiency to prepare for the child. She found a day care, and read books on parenting, and got information from the welfare office about the ins and outs of adoption. We prepared the little room under the eaves, the one that Sonia had seen from the very beginning as a nursery. We bought a cradle and Onesies in neutral colors. I had forgotten to ask Ivona whether the baby was going to be a girl or a boy, and I didn’t want to call her. We bought a dictionary of names, and agreed on a couple. If it was a boy, he would be Eric, and if it was a girl, then we would call her Sophie.
When Ivona still hadn’t gotten in touch by the end of February, I called Hartmeier and said I wanted to see him. I asked him to come to the house, hoping he would be impressed by our lifestyle. I told Sonia that Hartmeier was a friend of Ivona’s, and he ought to see what arrangements were being made for the baby.
He came along after dinner. I let him in. Sonia was standing behind me. She usually went around in pants, but tonight she was wearing a plain blue dress that made her look very beautiful and slightly fragile. Hartmeier was visibly impressed. He seemed nervous, and was uncertain in his movements and stammered when he spoke. He sat down, and for a moment no one said anything, as though we were all waiting for something to happen. I asked Hartmeier if he wanted a drink, and he asked for a glass of water. Sonia went into the kitchen to get it, and he seemed relieved, and started talking hurriedly. Ivona had had some premature contractions, and was told to stay in bed. Someone from the parish was visiting her regularly and helping with the chores. I said I’d stopped visiting Ivona, because I didn’t want to influence her decision. Sonia came back with a carafe of water and three glasses. Besides, it was probably better for both of us if we stopped seeing each other, I said. It was too difficult for my wife. Sonia filled our glasses and stood behind me. I turned to her, and took her hand. She had put on a tormented smile. Hartmeier, looking earnest, nodded.
Hartmeier stayed for probably two hours. At the beginning, he was negative, but over time he thawed a little, which was probably mainly Sonia’s doing. I’d told her we had to settle one or two logistical details. When she realized that nothing had been decided yet, she shot me a horrified glance, but other than that showed no emotion.
I shut the door after Hartmeier, and turned to Sonia to hug her, but she took a step back and looked at me furiously. And what would you have done if she’d said no? I said I was certain we’d get the baby. She hasn’t even decided yet, said Sonia. She’ll listen to him, I said. I didn’t want to alarm you. Then Sonia yelled at me, for the first time in all the years we’d known each other, to stop treating her like an idiot. She calmed down right away. If I had any faith in our relationship, she said, more calmly now, then I would have to be honest with her. However difficult. She wasn’t a baby, she could face the truth, but she couldn’t stand it if I was dishonest with her. I gave her my word. Then we opened a bottle of Prosecco and drank to the positive effect of the meeting with Hartmeier. He had promised to see what he could do with Ivona. We had talked a lot about unbroken families, and then talked about money as well. I had even shown him the latest set of accounts from the business, and some photographs of buildings we’d designed. We had spoken about the building trade, and I had suggested I might listen to a bid from his son on our next project.
And what happens to the child if you separate?, he asked. I’ve forgiven Alexander, Sonia said, I’m sure nothing like that will happen again. I nodded and felt quite convinced of it myself. Even so I had a sense that Sonia and I were acting. Hartmeier said we were all sinful creatures, which made me wonder what sins he might have committed.
We spent the weekend in a mixture of euphoria and apprehension. On Monday Hartmeier called the office and said Ivona had declared that she was prepared to give the baby up for adoption. And without insisting on visiting rights?, I asked. I was able to talk her out of that, he said, to begin with it will be difficult for her, but in the long run it’s better, especially for the child. From the sound of his voice I could tell that he had supported me, and even though that was to my advantage, it still annoyed me. He had allowed himself to be dazzled by our comfortable middle-class life, and betrayed Ivona, the cleaning woman, the illegal immigrant.
That evening we celebrated. We ate out in an expensive restaurant where we normally only ever took clients. I meant what I said. Sonia looked at me inquiringly. About being faithful to you. Sonia nodded impatiently, as though unwilling to hear about it. Ever since we’re getting a baby, I’ve seen babies everywhere, she said. It feels as though the whole of Munich is full of mothers and strollers and babies. That’s normal, I said. And by the way, it’s a girl.
Only now did we mention it to our parents. We told them we were adopting a baby, not that it was my baby. Apart from them, we told no one. Ivona had eight weeks’ grace after the birth to reconsider everything, and we didn’t want to talk to people about it before we were positive we would get to keep the baby.
Sophie was born on April 17. Shortly before, Hartmeier had called me and told me how Ivona envisaged the handover taking place. She wanted me to be there at the birth, and to wash the baby, and give it to her so that she might hold it. Then she would hand it to me, and me alone, and after that she didn’t want to see it again. She had bought a pair of Onesies for the baby to wear, and a little chain with a golden cross on it. I found the whole to-do theatrical if not slightly mawkish, but I had no idea how to do it any better, and I agreed. I asked who would pay for the hospital stay, and whether Ivona wouldn’t have trouble with immigration as an illegal alien. Hartmeier said there was an amnesty of at least three months following the birth, and after that everything would be reconsidered. As for the matter of costs, it wasn’t clear yet, perhaps the welfare department. I said of course I would happily pay for them myself.
On the day of the birth I got a call from the hospital, but it all happened so fast that Sophie was born before I even got there. She had been washed and put away. Ivona lay there in her room. Her greatest worry seemed to be that her plan had been frustrated. The nurse who escorted me into the ward now refused to bring us the baby. It had to get over the birth, she said, and looked at me in rather a hostile way. I said I could always come back later.
That afternoon, I was back in the hospital. The baby was in a little cart with clear plastic sides, next to Ivona’s bed. Ivona looked at it in a way I couldn’t interpret. I was about to pick it up out of the cart, but she said, no, I had to take the baby from her. She lifted the back of her bed and rang the bell. This time another nurse came, this one very friendly, who, in response to Ivona’s request, lifted the baby into her arms. Ivona waited for her to leave, and then she handed Sophie to me without a word.
It felt weird to hold my baby in my arms for the first time. Sophie was incredibly light. Her face was reddened, and looked somehow birdlike. I thought briefly about Ivona’s appearance, and of the fact that Sophie had some of her genes too, but then I felt ashamed. Anyway, I thought, all babies are ugly. For the most part, Sophie struck me as a completely independent being from the outset, a creature that might be biologically descended from Ivona and me but that really had very little to do with us. I thought I ought to say something. I’ll look after her, I said. I promise.
Sophie started bawling. What’s the matter with her?, I asked. Ivona said nothing, maybe she wanted to demonstrate that I was responsible for the baby from now on. I went out into the corridor and looked for a nurse. She picked Sophie up and sniffed her bottom. Your first?, she asked, and when I nodded, she said in that case she’d help me. After we changed Sophie’s diapers, the nurse put her in one of the little cribs. I went back to Ivona’s room, but she wasn’t there. In the office I was told she was just having a checkup, she had said I could take the child. Those were her words, said the head nurse, looking indignant.
A midwife came along and told me a thousand and one things I needed to know, most of which I forgot immediately, and handed me a cardboard box with samples of baby care products and formula.
On the drive home I thought about Ivona. I wondered what feelings she had for Sophie. I was firmly convinced that we had decided on the best solution, but I was afraid Ivona would think I had stolen her baby. I would have liked to talk about it with her, I sort of wanted her blessing, but that was probably asking for too much.
Throughout the drive, Sophie had stayed absolutely silent. When I parked, I saw that she had fallen asleep. I lifted her out of the car in her baby seat and carried her into the house. Sonia must have heard the car pull in, because she opened the door, and after a quick look at the baby, led the way up the stairs to the nursery. Then she stopped, not knowing what to do. I put the baby seat on the ground and squatted down next to it. Look, I said, here’s our baby. Sonia came closer and asked whether everything was okay. Couldn’t be better, I said. Sonia sat down next to me cross-legged and started to cry. After a while, she asked, what do we do now? I don’t know. Wait for her to wake up. For the first time, Sonia looked at the baby closely. She stroked the back of its hand with one finger. Black hair, she said, I always wanted to have black hair when I was little. Like the American Indians. Like Nscho-tschi, I said. No, said Sonia, I wanted to be Winnetou, not the girl. She turned to me and asked what effect Sophie would have on our life together. I don’t know. Come on, she said, let’s have a cup of coffee first.
We were still sitting over our coffee when Sophie started to yell, and I raced upstairs, as though there wasn’t a second to lose. Bring her down, Sonia called after me, she’s sure to be hungry. When I came back, she was already preparing a bottle of formula. She tested the temperature with the back of her hand and settled down on the sofa. Give her to me, she said, and opened her blouse and bared her breast. Sophie moved her mouth here and there questingly, until she got Sonia’s nipple in it, and started sucking greedily. I looked at Sonia, but she was concentrated entirely on the baby. When it took its head off the breast for a moment, she gave the baby the bottle. Only now did she look at me. She must have caught my puzzled expression. She said she had been to the lactation consultant, and had learned that even adoptive mothers can breast-feed their children. Usually the milk wasn’t enough, but it was worth it just the same. And you can do it just like that? I prepared myself, said Sonia. She had massaged her breasts every day for months, without breathing a word of it to me. The notion had something alienating, even off-putting to me. Of course it was idiotic to feel that way, but for a moment I thought Sonia wanted to take my baby away. The next day as well she set Sophie on her breast, until I asked whether she hadn’t proved her point. Sonia said it was important for the lactation. I didn’t like it when she talked about her body as if it were a machine, but I’d already noticed women tended to do that. I never got used to the sight of Sonia breast-feeding. She seemed to get a kick out of it. When I said something, she would reply, you’re just jealous. She didn’t give up until Sophie was a year old.