Tante Eva

by Paula Bomer

  After calling from the hall phone, Eva waited in Mrs. Haufmann’s apartment with her; it took over two hours for the police to arrive. They had wanted them to come to the station, but Eva explained Gabi’s condition, and they reluctantly agreed to send officers to the apartment. Krista had been acting so strangely, Mrs. Haufmann explained. She was always sick, she was always throwing up, and she had behaved unkindly to her, to her very own mother. She had never prayed during socialism; she knew the futility of it, but she had taken to praying in the past few weeks, because everything seemed so wrong. She remembered prayers from her childhood. What could have happened? Where was her daughter? She asked Eva to call Maggie, to call her daughter, Elena.

  “Frau Haufmann, es besteht nicht die geringste Wahrscheinlichkeit, dass Krista bei Maggie ist.”

  “Warum sagen Sie das? Wie können Sie das wissen? Ich weiss, dass die beiden befreundet waren. Ich weiss es!”

  Eva’s heart sank. She remembered the night at Cafe Einstein. She remembered Tom. She remembered his foot under the table, looking for Krista’s. So back to the hallway she went. She called Elena.

  “Mutti! Wie geht’s?”

  “Hast du die Krista gesehen? Oder weisst du, ob sie bei Maggie ist oder war in den letzen beiden Tagen?”

  “Krista? Deine Nachbarin?”

  “Genau.”

  “I have no idea where she is, Mutti.”

  Then Eva remembered the number in her purse. She went back to her apartment and opened her wallet, unfolded the piece of paper. The handwriting was from a woman, not from the skinhead, not from that boy. Frau Weber. She dialed the number.

  “Ja bitte?” a woman said.

  “Kann ich bitte Frau Weber sprechen?”

  “Ich bin Frau Weber.”

  “Frau Weber, Ihr Sohn hat mir Ihre Nummer gegeben.”

  “My son? What? Who are you? My son is dead! Tot! Tot! Mein Sohn ist tot!” She started weeping loudly, then screaming, “Tot, tot!”

  Eva hung up. Of course he’s dead. And probably, thought Eva, so was Krista.

  She went back to Frau Haufmann’s. She explained to her and the police that no one knew where Krista was. No one she knew had seen her.

  Eva went back into her apartment. She hadn’t mentioned the skinheads. This was her first sin. She turned on the lights and saw everything—her bed, her record player, her little table. It held her warmly for one second, but then anguish set in. Her heart was beating so hard. Her leg! She sat down at her table, and for a moment, she thought she might die of a stroke. She closed her eyes. She thought of Mrs. Haufmann praying. She began to pray. Dear Father, our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. She did not call Maggie. Not after where she left her, not after everything. She lied about that. That was her second sin.

  Eva got into bed and immediately fell asleep. When she awoke, she woke slowly, still lost in a dream. In the dream, Hugo was a man in his forties, the man she fell in love with. He was laughing with his friends—they were all there, Wolf, too—and they were sitting in the backyard of their old house. The trees were green; it was summer. The sun shone, and in the dream Eva’s arms were slick with warm summer sweat. Her whole life was ahead of her. Of course they’d made mistakes, but there was no end in sight, no end to the possibility that all could be good again. That life would go on and on. In the dream, Elena walks up to Eva, but it is the Elena of now, not Elena the little girl. In the dream, Eva stops her light laughter, the feeling of ease goes away. Then Eva woke up.

  She looked at the clock. It was almost 2:00 p.m. She got up, unstable, holding the sides of the wall, but made it to the kitchen to make coffee. She took a morning pill as she waited for the coffee to brew.

  The police had been different from the police of the GDR. This was nothing new—a change, a difference, and yet it still felt similar. She didn’t like them. She didn’t trust them. But they had taken all the information about Krista. They also called for an ambulance and took Mrs. Haufmann away. The fear in her face! The fear in her blind, sickly face. And yet she didn’t protest at being taken away. How could she? She couldn’t take care of herself.

  Eva put on the Billie Holiday record, but it irritated her, so she took it off right away. It was silence she needed. To think. She closed her eyes, sitting at her little table. The coffee began to work on her. She should call Liezel, but she wouldn’t. Then, she should go over to Maggie’s. She should ask Maggie if she knew where Krista was. The lies, they kept building. They built a small, hard wall inside her.

  As she stood to bathe, Hansi knocked on her door. He called to her, “Eva! Bist du herein?”

  “Ja! Ja!” Eva opened the door and there he was. The man who loved her.

  “Komm! Gehen Wir!”

  “Nein, Ich muss ein shower nehmen.”

  “Ach! Ich kann nicht warten!”

  “Okay, Moment, Moment.” So no shower then, she thought, grimly. He waited outside while she got dressed, put on lipstick, sprayed her hair.

  Once in the car, her legs began to hurt. She rubbed them.

  “Was is los?”

  “Meine Beine tun mir weh.”

  Hansi grunted. Eva looked at his big, Slavic face. His broad nose, his thick forehead and hair. She smelled him, that wonderful, familiar smell; the cologne, the stale smoke, the oil of his skin.

  “My neighbor Krista is missing. The young girl. And her mother, so sick, she can’t see, really, she’s lost nearly all of her sight—she was taken away too.”

  Hans said nothing.

  “Did you know? Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Ich weiss nichts. Ich kenne ihnen nichts.”

  “Doch. You know them. You’ve seen Krista over the years.”

  “Ja, ja. But I don’t know them, really. Why do you ask me these questions?”

  “Well, you are full of surprises. You know all sorts of things that surprise me. You know where the Stasi kept samples of my smell.”

  “That’s because I was Stasi, Schatzi.” Hansi turned to her. “Aber du weisst dass shon.”

  Yes, she knew. But was this something they had ever talked about? No. She knew all sorts of things that she didn’t like to think about. Why bother? What could she do? And there was maybe knowing something and then there was really knowing something for certain. There was her faith in God, a belief she kept with her every day, but did she know? Did she have evidence? Her sort of evidence, yes. But the day in and day out of life, these were the things that struck her as even more unknowable than God in heaven who sent a Son to Earth to save their souls. So what did she really know? The world was beyond her.

  “Can you take me to Maggie’s quickly?”

  “I have no time! I have to meet someone.”

  “Are we going to the cabin?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her, then back at the road. Just a glance. A glance, and a smile. These things were her heart, her solace.

  “Please, I won’t stay for long. It’s very important. Then we’ll go straight to the cabin.”

  “No.”

  “I ask so little from you. Why take me on a trip if you can’t be bothered to give me ten minutes of time? Maybe I’ll get out.” They were approaching a red light. Eva unlocked the door and began to open it.

  “You’re crazy. Stop that.” Hans grabbed for her, but he was too big, too cumbersome.

  “I’m not crazy. I need to talk with my niece. So I will get out now, if you don’t take me.” She was stunned when the words came out of her mouth.

  Hans looked at her. “Was? Was hast du mir gesacht?”

  “Bitte, Hansi. Ich muss meine Nichte suchen. Wirklich.”

  Unbelievably, his face softened. She never spoke like this to him. Or when she did, she always regretted it. But he said, “Okay. Okay. She might be working, you know.”

  “I want to see if she’s there. I will
be quick. She doesn’t work every day. I forget her schedule. Just wait for me.”

  “Fine. Shut the door.”

  They drove to Maggie’s in silence. Eva got out and didn’t look back. She went up the stairs and knocked tentatively, but the door was open and she went in.

  Maggie was there, as well as two other people, a young woman and a young man whom she’d never seen before. They were surrounded by lit candles, and the curtains were pulled. The day was dark, but in the apartment, it was darker.

  They were high. There was a faint odor of burning and vomit. Eva straightened her skirt out and put her hand to her heart.

  “Tante Eva!” Maggie said. She stood up and then sat back down on the ground, pillows scattered around her on a filthy rug. Here she was, a girl who’d been given everything. Clothes, warmth, a nice house, education—everything anyone could ever ask for. Even a mother’s love; whatever Eva thought of her sister, she loved Maggie as well as she could. All the things neither Liezel or she had had, or not for long. And she’d taken everything she was given and thrown it away. Eva closed her eyes and saw the rooms of her life, her childhood room that she shared with Willi and Liezel, her house with Hugo, the room she lived in now. You think everything is forever, but it all goes away. Maggie probably thought she could always go home, but someday, her home would be gone.

  “Your mother came looking for you, Maggie.”

  “I should be angry at you, Tante Eva,” Maggie said, smoking a cigarette.

  “Angry at me?”

  “You gave that witch my address.”

  “You called her. She came here because of you.”

  Maggie made a motion with her cigarette. “I had a weak moment. I needed money. Money to get Tom out of jail. He may be an ass, but I couldn’t leave him in there. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m not angry with you.”

  “Have you seen Krista?”

  “Krista?”

  “Yes, my neighbor, the young girl who joined us at Café Einstein that night we all went out. She’s missing. She’s . . . I don’t know. I’m worried.”

  “No, I haven’t. Honestly, I haven’t seen her since that night.”

  “Maggie, maybe you should go home with your mother. For a while.”

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your Tante?” said the girl lying on some pillows next to Maggie. She was obviously American. The young man was nodded out, asleep. “You’re the lady who lived in East Berlin your whole life? That is so cool!”

  “Sorry,” Maggie said. “Tante Eva, this is my friend Laura.”

  “I’ve heard all about you,” said Laura. “You’re the reason Maggie came to Berlin.”

  To think she was the reason. And yet, look at this mess. Was she the reason for this mess, too?

  “Nice to meet you,” Eva said. Her hands were shaking. She needed a pill, but she wouldn’t take one now.

  “Hans is downstairs waiting for me. I’m going away. I wanted to see you, if you were still here. I didn’t know if you’d left with your mother. I think you should go home and I thought I’d tell you that, tell you how I feel. It’s not too late, Maggie.”

  “My mother’s coming again tomorrow.” Maggie sat up, and wrapped her arms around her thin knees. Her pockmarked face, her green pallor, the cigarette—all this, and yet she was just a girl. She shivered a bit as she spoke. “I don’t know what to do. I hate her.”

  “Stay here! Party with us,” said Laura.

  “I’m leaving now with Hans. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m glad I got to say goodbye.”

  “Hey, I might be here when you get back. Who knows. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, Maggie, I hope not.”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say, Tante Eva.” She stood. Well, she was in better shape. High, yes. But not so poisoned as before.

  “I say it because I failed you.”

  “Stop,” Maggie said. “My problems are my own. I’ve said this to you already. They have nothing to do with you.”

  She hugged her niece. “Goodbye, Maggie. May God bless you and look after you.”

  Maggie pulled back and looked at her aunt, and her distant eyes focused for a minute. “It’s like a big hug, heroin,” she said. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It is what it is. It’s my . . .” She paused, then wrapped her arms around herself, swaying side to side. “It’s my hug.” Then Eva hugged her again, feeling her own big flesh wrap around her thin, shaky niece. Close to her ear, she said, “Nein, meine Liebe, this is a hug.” Then she kissed her niece on her head.

  Maggie looked up at Eva but said nothing. But she had heard; she had heard her through her drugged-out mind.

  Then Eva left, without looking back.

  Hansi started the car as she walked back to it. Eva got in, slammed the door shut. He said, “As high as she is and she can still hold down her job. Dieses Mädchen ist etwas Besonderes.”

  Chapter 32

  Eva had taken two sleeping pills and fallen into a dark, dreamless sleep in the car. When she woke, her head like cotton, it was almost dark and they were far from the city, near to the cabin, near to Poland, really. Hansi was smoking, the window slightly open. The air that came in was quite cold. She felt it against her face, a bit wet, like a trace of ice on her warm, sleep-filled skin.

  “Wir werden schon da sein, neh?” she asked, more to wake herself up than anything.

  “Ja, mein Liebchen.” He smiled at her. She was his Liebchen. His Schatzi. She was someone he loved and counted on. All this trouble, all the trouble in the world. And what else can we ask of God than for one person to love us? Even if that person is as flawed as the Bible says we all are.

  “I made a stop, but you did not wake up. You are very tired today, no?”

  “I’m waking up now. I am.”

  The countryside was beautiful in its emptiness. She opened a window wide for a moment and the air made her gasp. Endless snow-covered fields, dark mounds of hills beyond them, and a road that stretched out ahead. Occasionally they passed a small house or shed. Then there was the turn onto the last stretch of road, this one dirt and gravel, and ahead, the cabin.

  “Did you meet Tom and Maggie before that day at my apartment?” she asked.

  “And if I did?”

  “Then it means Elena introduced you to them.”

  “Why these questions, Schatzi? It’s over now. Things didn’t work out as planned with Tom. But I still made a lot of money.” He turned to her and grinned.

  “But Elena? She always warned me against you.”

  Hansi started to laugh. He began laughing so hard he couldn’t drive, so he pulled over.

  “You laugh at me?” She wanted to hit him. “Me? Who loves you? Who is always there for you?”

  “Schatzi! Bist dumit mich nicht bose sein! I only laugh because you are so naive. But you aren’t really, are you? And I’m not laughing at you, really; I’m laughing at Elena. She is something else, warning you against me. How do you think I got your smells, eh? When she joined the Party, she was a schoolgirl, but we had lots of children working for us. She warned you against me? It’s funny, it’s just too funny.”

  Eva looked ahead. She saw the cabin at the end of the road. “My own daughter.”

  “We are all on the same side, Liebchen. You can’t hold anything against her. It was the way things were then.”

  Hansi carried large, dark cases slowly from the car. They were very heavy looking, very different from what Eva had seen him bring in before. He didn’t ask her to help, even though he was clearly struggling. He had parked the car right near the boathouse. At first Eva watched from the car; then she went into the cabin. It was very cold. She put together a fire and found a broom to sweep the dust that had collected since they’d last been there. She carried the wool blankets outside and shook them out. Lastly, she boiled some water for coffee.


  “Ach, meine Rück tut mir weh,” Hans said, holding his back and grimacing.

  “Here, have a coffee.” Eva passed him a hot mug. Her Hansi. What trouble had he really caused? Could she blame him for Maggie’s problems? She was already using drugs before she came to Berlin. And yet.

  Hans’s face was quite red from exerting himself. He blew on his coffee, wiped his brow.

  “Warum liebst du mich?” Eva asked.

  “Warum?” Hansi laughed. “Women. You are all so crazy.”

  “Aber du liebst mich, doch?”

  “Of course I love you.”

  “Warum? Warum mich?”

  Hansi stood up, stretched his back. Then he came to her, and carefully wrapped his hands around her face. “Du bist meine sichere Berlinerin, Ost Berlinerin. Paula war nicht wie du, ist nicht wie du. Ja, Die hat in der DDR gewohnt. But you, your heart is like mine. Your heart is here in Berlin; Paula’s is not. Und was mehr? Ach, woman, I don’t know. It is love. It doesn’t make any sense. You must know that by now.”

  This moment of tenderness startled Eva, but there was no reason to be startled. Ten years they had. Despite her regrets, regrets that grew and deepened. Having regrets didn’t make her a bad person. Loving a man perhaps she wished she’d never loved. To endure regardless of regret, well that was the human condition, no? She closed her eyes and smelled the cigarettes from his hands, the sour smell of his sweat. She was a man’s woman, and she’d always been. Despite her love for Liezel, or Elena, or Maggie. She loved her sister and her daughter, because they let her be a wife, a mother to a man’s children, first her father’s, then her Hugo’s. They let her be the woman of the house, the woman in a man’s house. And Maggie? She did love her, but what good did that do? Not much. And that was it, too: loving the women in her life never amounted to anything good. But now she was being ungrateful, the very trait that poisoned so many, that poisoned Maggie. Ingratitude. Her eyes still closed, she said a prayer. “Thank you, God, for my daughter, my sister, my niece. Look after them, guide them, care for them. And forgive me, God, for the truth in my heart, for the love I have for this man is stronger than it should be. Forgive me.”