by Strauss, Lee
Her cell phone rang on the side of her bed, and she groaned. She wasn’t up to speaking to anyone, especially Micah or Matthias. She picked it up, expecting to see one of their names on the screen, but instead it was her lawyer’s name, Tanya Fullermann.
“Katja Stoltz,” Katja answered.
“Hello, Katja. It’s Tanya Fullermann. I have news you may not be happy to hear.”
Katja’s heart skipped. “What is it?”
“Horst has been released on probation.”
Blackness closed in on the edges of Katja’s eyes, and she pinched them tight. “Oh.”
“Your restraining order against him is still in effect, but I wanted to make sure you knew he was back on the streets.”
Katja sprung out of bed, whisking to the front door to make sure it was locked. Sibylle was watching television while eating breakfast. A startled look crossed her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing, just checking the door.”
She heard Gisela banging around in the kitchen, and she slipped in to tell her the news, keeping her voice low.
Gisela’s hand reached for her throat. “What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do, except use extra caution. We can’t let Sibylle out alone.”
Gisela nodded, but Katja knew she was concerned. Sibylle would turn twelve soon. They couldn’t keep her under lock and key forever. She had a life. Or at least, she should have a life. She needed friends and hobbies that took her beyond home and school. She wouldn’t put up with Katja escorting her everywhere for much longer.
She shared her concerns with Henni later that day when she dropped by for a visit.
“I’ll help watch her,” she said. Her hair streaks were pink now. “Sorry I missed your show last night,” she added. “How did it go? I heard Simone Pellar was really good.”
“You heard how Simone’s set went, but not mine?”
“Well, actually, I heard yours was amazing and that you did some crazy powerful song at the end, but I wanted to hear it from you.”
“Micah showed up last night.”
“The Micah?”
Katja nodded.
“And?” Henni poked her in the ribs. “Come on. Spill!”
“And, I sang the song I wrote the night he left me. To hurt him. Then I left with Matthias. To hurt him. I’m an awful person.”
“Oh, Katja.” Henni pulled her into a hug. “The fact that you feel awful about what you did just proves you’re not an awful person. Besides, he deserved it.”
Katja pulled free and pressed fingers against her eyes. She was so tired of tears. “Yeah, he did, but now it’s over, and I don’t feel any better.”
“It takes time,” Henni said with a knowing look. “It just takes time.”
Katja threw all her pent-up energy into work the next day. The physical act of viciously scrubbing dishes didn’t calm her raging emotions at all. Micah was here in Berlin, messing with her mind. If she didn’t have her mother and sister to worry about she’d just catch the next train to wherever. But she did have them. She was stuck. What was she doing with her life? How long would she be washing dishes and scrubbing floors?
She examined her hands. Red and chapped, they looked like they belonged to an old lady. She’d taken to chewing her nails lately to relieve stress. Thick calluses had formed on the tips of her fingers again from playing guitar.
At least the dishes were done. She just needed to do the floor and then she could go. Hopefully, she’d be gone before Matthias showed up. She just didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now.
She grabbed the blade and got down on her hands and knees to scrape the floor. She was halfway done when she heard a male voice call her name.
It wasn’t Matthias’s voice. She froze on the spot. No, please. She didn’t want him to see her like this: sweaty and grimy, dressed in scrubs, on her hands and knees.
“Katja?” he called again.
She turned, and Micah was standing in the doorway, looking like a model, wearing clean, name brand jeans and a crisp shirt. A shocked expression crossed his gorgeous, clean-shaven face.
She couldn’t feel more humiliated. “What are you doing here?” she mustered
“I thought I’d drop in for coffee.”
She flung her hand. “You missed the café by about two meters. It’s behind you.”
“I know. I thought you worked there.”
“No, I work in the bakery, back here.” She wished the floor she’d been scraping would just open up and swallow her.
“When does your shift end?” he asked. “Should I wait for you?”
Oh, God, no. “I really should go home. I need to shower…”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Now what? She dug it out and answered it. Her face blanched as she listened to her mother’s frantic voice. She sprung to her feet. “I’ll be right there, Mama.”
“Is something wrong?” Micah asked
“Sibylle is missing. Horst is out on bail, and my mother thinks she’s with him.”
“Isn’t she in school?”
“It’s a school holiday. I have to go home.”
“Of course. I’ll drive you.”
She didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially looking like she did, but he would get her home faster than walking or transit.
“Okay.” She told Herr Bauer she had a family emergency and had to leave before the floors were done. He bellowed his disapproval, and she wondered if she’d still have a job the next day.
She didn’t speak during the trip over, sitting as close to the passenger door as possible. She hated how the bakery made her smell and didn’t want Micah to sniff her. And she couldn’t believe she could care about something so vain when her sister was missing. She tapped her fingers restlessly on the arm rest, just wanting to be home now.
Micah hooked his blue tooth around his ear. Katja didn’t see how he connected to the person on the other end, but she perked up when he started talking.
“His name is Horst Bergmann. Out on parole. I need to verify his whereabouts. I’m with the older daughter now. The younger one is missing and they are concerned she’s with Bergmann without authorization.”
A pause. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“My lawyer. He’s putting a call into the parole board. They’ll locate your step-father.”
The lawyer hadn’t called back by the time they arrived at the building. Katja raced up the stairs with Micah right behind her. She banged on the door.
“Mama, it’s me!”
Gisela opened the door, her eyes puffy and red. “I’m sorry Katja. I fell asleep. When I woke up she was gone.”
“She could be anywhere,” Micah said. “You can’t know for sure she’s with Horst.”
Gisela squinted. “Who is this, Katja?”
“Oh, Mama, it’s Micah. You’ve met before, a long time ago.”
Gisela nodded slowly. “That Micah.”
Yes, that Micah.
Katja raced to her room. Just in case. Her sister may have returned without her mother noticing. “Sibylle?”
The bed was neatly made. There was no sign of her sister. Katja took a moment to quickly change her clothes to a clean shirt and jeans. She put her winter coat back on.
“I’m going to search for her,” she announced. “Mama, stay here in case she comes back. Call me the minute she does. I’ll let you know if I find her.”
Katja skipped down the steps with Micah on her heels. When they got to the street, Katja didn’t know which way to turn. Left or right. She chose right, the direction of the school. But why would she go there? She spun and went the opposite direction. What did it matter where Sibylle would choose to go? If Horst had her, she wouldn’t be anywhere near here.
Micah clasped her arm. “Katja?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Katja ran her rough fingers through her ponytail. “I feel so helpless. If he does anything to her. If he hurts her…”
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She buried her face in her hands and instantly felt Micah’s strong arms encase her. She shivered in his embrace.
“Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “We’ll find her.”
Katja pulled herself free. She had to get a hold of herself. She wasn’t going to find Sibylle by weeping on Micah’s shoulder.
Micah stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Sturm.” He nodded and said, “Thanks.”
Katja stared at him waiting.
“They’ve located Horst. He doesn’t have her.”
When Micah said those words it was like he’d lifted a bag of rocks off her back. She let out a hard breath of relief. But her sister was still missing. “Where is she then?”
“Let’s keep looking.”
They started walking, and Micah asked, “Have you contacted her friends? Maybe she’s gone to one of their homes?”
Katja let out a soft groan. “She doesn’t have any friends. She should have, but she’s… afraid, and since I’ve been back, I think I’ve instilled even more fear, not less. She should have friends. Our lives are so messed up.”
This time it was Katja’s phone ringing. “Mama?”
“She’s here, Katja. She’s safe.”
“Oh, thank God. Where was she?... Henni’s? What was she doing there? No wait. I’ll be home shortly.”
She looked at Micah, and her eyes glistened. Tears of gladness. “She’s safe.”
“That’s good,” he said. “That’s really good.”
“Yes, it is. And now I have to go home and kill my friend.”
When they got back, Katja rushed to Sibylle and squeezed her tight. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, Katja,” she whimpered. “I was just watching TV with Henni.”
Katja glared at her neighbor. “How could you?”
“What? I just came to talk to you and found Sibylle watching TV alone, again. I felt sorry for her. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“You could’ve left a note or sent me a text or something.”
“I figured Sibylle would be back here before you or your mother got home. I didn’t know Gisela was sleeping.”
Katja heard the word Henni left off this time. Again.
Katja guided Sibylle to the sofa and sat down with her. “Next time, just tell me.”
“Geez, we didn’t even leave the building.” Henni took in Micah, her gaze running up and down his body and landing back on his eyes. She smiled and extended a hand. “I’m Henni, Katja’s lousy friend and neighbor.”
“Micah. Pleased to meet you.”
Henni’s mouth formed a small circle.
Micah grinned. “Yes, that Micah.”
“Well, if you all don’t need me anymore,” Henni said, heading for the door, “I think I’ll make myself scarce. Bye.”
Now that the emergency was over, Katja didn’t know what to do. Micah stood with his hands clasped. She sat pressed next to Sibylle with her arms circled around her.
Gisela sat in the chair opposite watching them. She stood and approached Micah, and Katja wondered what she’d say. Would she chase him out now?
Instead, she surprised her with this: “Thanks so much for your help today, Micah. Would you like to stay for Mittage Essen?”
Katja’s jaw dropped. Her mother invited him to lunch? She had to be kidding.
The moment felt surreal with the four of them, Katja with her mother and sister, and Micah Sturm, sitting around their small kitchen table in dim lighting, eating veal cutlets and potato salad.
The veal was overcooked and the potatoes not cooked enough. Micah was every bit a gentleman, complimenting Gisela on her cooking, but Katja knew that Micah would blow them both out of the water with his own version of the same meal.
It was her day to be mortified and humiliated in every way possible, it seemed.
“Katja tells me you’re in banking,” Gisela said. “From a family of bankers.”
“This is true. It’s not the most exciting work, but I’m grateful for it.”
Gisela just hummed.
“So, Katja.” Micah placed his fork down and looked at her. “There was a reason I stopped by the café earlier. I have something I want to tell you.”
Katja nibbled her lip ring. Apparently finding her scrubbing floors like a common maid—worse actually, Micah hired maids, and they never had to get on their hands and knees—hadn’t dissuaded him. He could’ve bolted a long time ago, and yet he remained. She nodded for him to continue.
“I’m friends with a movie producer in town, and I gave him your CD. He makes independent films and is always looking for soundtrack music.”
Katja’s throat suddenly went dry. She took a long drink from her glass of water. “Um, that’s an old CD now.”
“I told him that. He listened anyway and really liked it. Wants to know if you have anything new he can hear.”
Katja shook her head. She had new material, but there was no way she could afford to record again.
Micah steadied his gaze on hers. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Ha,” she scoffed. “You read minds now,too?”
“I think I can read your mind.”
“Really?”
“I want to underwrite your next CD. Consider it an investment.”
“A high-risk investment.”
“I like to take risks.”
“Since when?”
“Since I met you.”
Katja lifted her fork to her mouth and chewed the tough meat, taking her time to swallow. Micah was full of surprises.
Gisela rubbed her arm. “It sounds like a good opportunity.”
Katja pushed back from the table. “Would you excuse us?” She motioned for Micah to follow her out into the hall. The aroma of their meal followed them and mingled with the smells emanating from the other flats.
She hooked her fingers into her belt loops. “Why are you doing this?”
“I want to show you that I get it now, why you need to do your art. It’s who you are.”
Did he really? Or was he just saying what he thought she wanted to hear. “But I’ve already given it up.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t still be gigging.”
Katja folded her arms and glanced away. If she did this, she would be tied to Micah for a long time. She didn’t know if she could survive that.
“You’re really good, Katja, and I want to help you. I’ve already booked studio time.”
Her head snapped up. “I have a job, you know. I can’t just leave whenever.”
“I spoke to Matthias, and he told me your hours so I could book around them.”
“You spoke to Matthias?”
“Yeah. He’s cool. He’s glad you have this chance to record.”
“Even though it means I’ll be spending time with you?” she asked incredulously. He really must’ve moved on.
“I told him I’d do anything to help you, to make you happy. He wants the same thing.”
Katja pressed her fingertips to her forehead. How did her life get so completely out of control?
“Okay, I’ll do it. But not because you want me to, or because Matthais wants me to, but because I want to.”
“Great. The first session is in three days.”
“Fine. Text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.” She paused at the door before entering. “And don’t try to call me in the meantime.” She left him standing in the hall, and rushed passed the startled faces of her mother and sister to her room.
Katja spent the next three days stewing. Whether she was at work, or at home, or lying awake at night in her bed, she couldn’t get Micah off her mind.
Why did he have to show up? She had everything under control. She’d given up her dreams, and had accepted her role as caregiver to her mother and sister. Their needs came first and she was willing to wash dishes and scrub floors if that was what it took. She might have gone back to school someday, became a secretary or something. She was happy enoug
h to play her guitar just for fun. She liked hanging out with Matthias, and maybe one day she would’ve had room in her heart to be more than just friends with him.
Damn Micah Sturm! He’d ruined everything.
Now her heart wanted things she knew were bound to disappoint and hurt her. It wasn’t too late for her to change her mind. Micah promised he would go if she asked him to.
She decided then, as she tossed and turned the night before her first studio session, that was what she’d do. She’d cancel her sessions, tell Micah to leave and pick up the pieces that remained of her heart and keep going.
Katja groaned at her image in the mirror the next morning. The bags beneath her eyes betrayed her. She did her best to make herself presentable, choosing her best jeans, a fine-knit sweater and a pair of fashionable winter boots she’d recently splurged on. A little makeup went a long way. She brushed her hair out, deciding to leave it loose, and even put on a pair of hoop earrings.
She didn’t know why she cared about how she looked if she was just going to say goodbye, but the memory of her in her bakery uniform and her disheveled appearance from the last time Micah saw her burned in her mind. She still had some pride.
She hugged her mother and kissed Sibylle’s forehead on her way out.
“Have fun,” Gisela said. Katja didn’t have the heart to tell her she wasn’t going through with it.
The studio was on the edge of a residential area at the back of a brick building. If she hadn’t had the address, she’d never have known it was there. It made her think it couldn’t be much of a studio.
Micah crossed the room when he saw her arrive, his face washed with relief like he thought she might not come. “Hey,” he said. “Come have a look around.” He didn’t waste time on pleasantries, like he knew he had to get his words in quickly before she could say hers.
The studio was more impressive on the inside. The walls had folded molding, like a large deck of cards tented on its side, that deadened the sound. The soundboard and instruments all looked top notch. A glass partition separated the sound engineer from the vocal microphone. There was a separate room for the drums.
“This is Felix,” Micah said, pointing to the guy in the engineer’s chair. “He’s your producer.”