by Heldt,Dora
Frauke brushed her fingers over the photo and smiled.
“I’m afraid it is, my darling, that’s me on the left with the curly hair. And on the right, with short black hair, that’s Christine.”
Lisa didn’t seem particularly impressed. “Maybe it’s just a bad photo, but you still look like kids. Keep going.”
The memories were starting to rush back; Frauke and Christine were in about twenty of the photos. Frauke started daydreaming; she wasn’t even listening to her daughter anymore, but immersed in memories from thirty years ago. She answered Lisa’s questions on autopilot and without giving them a great deal of thought. Her mind was elsewhere.
Her son Max brought her crashing back to reality. Neither of them had heard him come in, but he was suddenly standing right next to the table: “What’s going on here? Taking a trip down memory lane?”
Frauke and Lisa jumped and looked up at him. His mother smiled and then started to answer, but Lisa beat her to it.
“Mom’s going to meet up with an old friend, so we’re looking at all the old pictures. Seriously, I don’t think they’ll recognize each other; Mom was a real bombshell back then. She looked completely different. Absolutely stunning. You wouldn’t even recognize her.”
Frauke felt like she’d just been slapped in the face.
Now, a day later, she was sitting in front of the photo album once again. The kids were at school and Gunnar, at work. She’d told him this morning that she didn’t feel well. Gunnar had given her shoulder a squeeze and told her to take the day off: he could manage without her for once. So Frauke had gone back to bed, and then she’d started thinking about Christine’s birthday. And about what Lisa had said. Her daughter was right. She had gotten fat, her hair could no longer claim to resemble anything close to a “style,” she never wore makeup, just put on some mascara occasionally at the very most, and hadn’t bought herself any nice clothes for at least six years.
She was a mother, a wife, a housewife, and an office assistant; she was everything under the sun. Everything except Frauke Müller. And she hadn’t even noticed.
Frauke flicked through the album. She found the photo of her and Christine by the tree and stared at it for a long while. It wasn’t the connection between them that she saw. It was something completely different that touched her about this picture. Back then, both of them had had this boundless enthusiasm for life. They couldn’t wait to grow up; they wanted to become rich, famous, and happy; marry wonderful men; have lots of children, travel around the world, have beautiful houses. They had been so confident they would get what they dreamed of. Back then, they hadn’t minded when, but they were sure they would make it, together, no matter what.
Suddenly, she could remember that feeling, the confidence. Frauke Jensen, nee Müller, stretched and clenched her fists.
“Christine Schmidt, I’m telling you—I’ll do it after all. I promise.”
Questionnaire
Name, age, and place of residence?
Frauke, 44. I live with my family in Lübeck.
When and where did you meet Christine?
We were twelve years old and both head over heels in love with David Cassidy. I stole her Bravo magazine and noticed in the school bathroom that she’d already taken out the poster of him. After that I felt really guilty; after all, we were both collecting the same thing. I told her that I really liked him, too, David, I mean. That’s how we became friends.
What was your best experience together?
We spent New Year 1974 with my parents and their friends. We were allowed to have eggnog and felt very grown-up. We shared a bed and at 3 a.m. we sang the national anthem. Lying down. Then we talked about what the future would hold for us.
What made your friendship stand out? And what sets Christine apart as a friend?
We both had an unquenchable thirst for life. And courage, too. Christine had such a wonderful imagination and came up with the most amazing scenarios for how our lives would be when we grew up. In the early days I didn’t even realize how many dreams I had for the future. And we were always so giggly with each other.
What’s your motto in life?
Don’t make such a fuss, you can do it.
A friend is…?
Someone who stops you from forgetting who you are. Someone who shares the same memories. Someone who gives you courage when you have too little of it.
What was your first reaction to this invitation?
I had many. First surprise, then fear, and now excitement and anticipation.
Christine was awoken by a strange noise. Her throat was sore, she couldn’t breathe right, and her head was thumping. With trepidation, she opened her eyes and tried to make out the time on her alarm clock. Eight fifteen a.m. Then she realized what the noise was; her cell phone was ringing. She sat up with a start, which made her feel dizzy, then lay back down again. She felt in desperate need of an aspirin and some fresh air. She must be sick. Today was Monday, and she hadn’t even heard her alarm clock. She didn’t feel well enough to go to work. Remembering that there was no one here to look after her, blow her nose, or stroke her forehead, Christine felt miserable and at death’s door. By now, her cell had stopped ringing. It had probably been Richard, on his way from Berlin to Bremen. Sure, he could call her again now that he was away from his wife. Christine tried to push away the negative thoughts and struggled out of bed. On the way to the bathroom she pulled her robe around her; it was cold, and her entire body ached.
After a shower, she felt a little better, but just the thought of driving to work made her feel dizzy. She made herself a cup of tea, reached for the phone, and called Gabi.
“Morning, it’s Christine. Listen, I’m not feeling well, I must have come down with something. Sore throat, headache, head cold, the whole lot. I’m staying in bed; can you pass the message on?”
Gabi sounded sympathetic. “You sound dreadful, you poor thing. Do you need anything?”
“I have nose drops and aspirin already, thank you though. I just need to go to bed.”
“OK, then do that. I’ll call you this evening; feel better soon.”
Gabi’s sympathy made Christine feel on the brink of tears. Feeling lonely, she reached for her cell in frustration. She looked at the missed calls and saw that the most recent had indeed been from Richard. Returning the call, she heard the ringtone. Then his voice.
“Jürgensen.”
Colds tend to go hand in hand with bad moods. You asshole, she thought, my number isn’t blocked and you can see perfectly well from the display who’s calling.
“Schmidt, did you call?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted her tone. She coughed, which Richard heard, of course. And he was meant to.
“You sound awful. Are you sick?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?”
His voice sounded warm and intimate, but it still annoyed Christine.
“Well, yes, you could come and take care of me.”
“Christine, you know I can’t do that; my schedule is packed with appointments. And you’ve only got a cold. You’re not normally like this. Anyway, I’ll be thinking of you.”
“How would you know what I’m usually like? We hardly see each other. I’m sick. But of course, I’m not the wonderful Sabine whom you rush to in a second if she has problems. That’s different.”
“Christine, do you have a fever or something? What’s all this about? I call you almost every day, and yes, it’s true we can’t see each other much at the moment, but I’m sure that will get better. Anyway, I can’t talk now, there’s a lot of traffic here. Let’s talk later; I’m sure you’ll have calmed down by then. Get better soon.”
“Fine.”
Christine pressed the button to hang up, took a deep breath, and shouted at the top of her voice, “You idiot!”
Then she had a coughing fit that brought tears to her eyes.
Ruth knocked on the office door and walked in. Christ
ine’s chair was empty, and Gabi was standing talking on the phone. She only looked up briefly. Ruth watched her. She didn’t look good; she was thin and seemed stressed. To make matters worse, she was wearing a gray wool suit that hung off her like a sack. Ruth tried to remember when she had last met up with Gabi outside of work. It had been the evening at the Italian place, with Luise and Ines, which was ages ago now, back in July, and since then they’d only spoken on the phone. She was just starting to feel guilty when Gabi hung up the phone.
“Morning, Ruth, have a seat. Would you like a coffee?”
Ruth felt relieved. “I’d love one, thank you. I actually wanted to see Christine. Is she on a break?”
Gabi put two cups on the table and poured the coffee.
“Christine called in sick this morning. She’s come down with a bad cold.”
“There’s something going around at the moment. Three people are out sick in the Kult editorial team, too.”
They sat down and drank their coffee. The silence grew and grew. Then Gabi spoke.
“So, is everything wonderful with you?” Her voice sounded a little cool.
Ruth looked uncertain. “Why do you ask? You don’t look too good, you know. Has something happened?”
That was so typical of Ruth: answering a question with another question. That had always annoyed Gabi. Recently there seemed to be more and more things that annoyed her about her old friend Ruth. She suddenly felt overcome by a wave of rage.
“I asked first, Ruth. All you seem to care about is your exciting love life. You have no idea what’s going on around you. The only thing you care about is making sure your two guys don’t run into one another. Are you still telling Karsten you’re keeping me company in the week while Thomas is in Frankfurt? Well, if you are you can tell him you need to do it on the weekend now, too, because Thomas is staying in Frankfurt now. He left me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner so that you could have had a weekend alibi, too, but I didn’t get the chance.”
Ruth went pale. Her friend had gone through a break-up and she hadn’t even noticed. She was ashamed, but found the outbreak of rage a little unjust.
“When did this happen?”
“At the end of July, not that you would care.”
Ruth ran her fingers through her hair. Gabi stared out of the window. Her posture was tense.
“Gabi, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say; this is all such a surprise. I know I’m quite preoccupied with my own things at the moment. That’s not an excuse, but it’s not easy for me; my relationship with Karsten, which isn’t really a relationship anymore, and then my feelings for Markus, who’s starting to put the pressure on. I don’t even know what I want anymore.” Her voice sounded croaky.
Gabi stayed silent, still sitting there stiffly.
“You’re angry I didn’t notice you were having a hard time, but you could have said something to me, too. Heavens, I’m not a mind reader. You never open up of your own accord; it’s like getting blood out of a stone with you.”
Gabi turned around sharply and looked at Ruth, shaking her head.
“Ruth, you don’t notice anything. We’ve been friends for years precisely because I don’t come to you with my problems. You just want friends who tell you how great you are. You’re only sympathetic and willing to help if there’s something in it for you. If it doesn’t take much effort but makes you look like a hero. That’s what you thrive on.”
Suddenly, Ruth had tears in her eyes. She looked so horrified that Gabi almost felt sorry for her.
“Gabi, I don’t understand. I come by to see you and you unleash a tirade of anger at me. What am I supposed to do with this?”
She was crying. Gabi sat down next to her. It was the wrong place and the wrong time for a conversation like this. She regretted having started it. She had found out yesterday evening that Thomas was seeing someone new, and she felt so full of rage at the world and all women that just the sight of Ruth had been enough for her to blow a fuse. But she shouldn’t have let it happen in the office. She handed Ruth a tissue.
“Come on, I’m sorry, our conversation just got a bit out of hand. I didn’t mean to lose it on you.”
“But you did.” Ruth blew her nose.
Gabi waited until Ruth looked up. Her mascara had run all down her cheeks.
“Oh, Ruth, we really should talk about this, but not here in the office, and calmly. I’m really not in a good mood, and you just caught the brunt of it. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”
Ruth wiped the mascara from under her eyes and cleared her throat.
“That’s just not fair. You can’t just keep things bottled up and then unleash it all on someone all at once like that. You know, we’re looking for Christine’s old girlfriends because we had that big conversation about the importance of female friendship, and yet we can’t even get it right ourselves. I thought we were friends.”
“Ruth, we are. But you have to work at it as well. And I know I do, too. Let’s meet up soon, OK?”
Ruth threw her tissue into the trashcan and stood up.
“OK, fine. But you should have a good think about whether you’ve let everything build up recently against me. You could have said something sooner.”
“If you ever had time for me, maybe.”
“Gabi, that’s just an excuse and you know it. Look, I don’t want to have another argument, please.”
Gabi’s telephone rang. She stood hesitantly in front of Ruth.
“I have to get that.”
“Of course, we’ll see each other soon then.” Ruth laid a hand on Gabi’s shoulder. “We’re OK now, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are. See you later.” Gabi picked up the phone.
Christine woke up, again disturbed by a noise. It was light in her bedroom in spite of the drawn curtains. She looked at the clock. Two thirty. She thought for a moment, confused, then remembered. She had called in sick at work. And she’d had an argument with Richard. A shitty day all around then.
She heard the noise again. It was the doorbell, probably the mailman. But he usually came in the morning. And he only rang once, then wrote a notification card. It rang again. It could be some insurance guy. Or someone from some religious sect. Her nose was completely blocked. She sat up to blow it. The bell rang again, constantly this time. Christine pictured a huge crowd of people on her doorstep, every one of whom was allowed to ring the bell once. She lay down again and closed her eyes. Her cell started to vibrate on the nightstand. So they had her number, too. She squinted to see the name on the display. Luise. Christine answered, her voice hoarse.
“My God, Christine, are you deaf? I’ve been on your doorstep for ten minutes ringing the bell—my finger aches.”
“I’m sick.”
“I know. But open the door.”
With difficulty, Christine stood up and went to press the entrance buzzer. She left the door open and went back to bed.
Moments later, Luise was crashing around in the hallway.
“Where are you?”
Christine groaned and pulled the blanket over her head.
“Good grief, it’s musty in here.” Luise’s voice sounded very close now. Christine heard her heels clicking on the wooden floor. Then it got very light in the room, and then very cold.
“You have to let some air in now and then. I’d feel sick, too, if I had the curtains shut when the sun’s shining outside. Have you had anything to eat? I guess not. I’ll make you something.”
Christine played dead. Luise went into the kitchen, and moments later Christine heard running water and the sound of the gas being lit on the stove. Half an hour later, Luise came back into the bedroom and pulled the blanket off Christine.
“OK, I’ve made some tea and some vegetable soup. Come on, get up; lying around in bed will only make you feel worse. I’m sure you can manage to sit on the sofa and have something to eat.”
Christine stood up carefully. She waited for the dizziness to come, but it didn’t.
Luise smiled contentedly. “That’s called fresh air. Come on, it’s warmer over there on the sofa. And don’t be such a drama queen; you’ve got the flu, not malaria.”
Luise had set the table and put a bunch of flowers in the vase. Next to it lay various packages of medication.
“Thank you Luise. You’ve really thought of everything.”
“Don’t mention it; here, your soup’s getting cold. Besides, I think I like playing Florence Nightingale.”
“How did you know I was out sick?”
“I had two appointments in Hamburg this morning and dropped by the publishing house afterwards to have a coffee with you. Gabi told me you were sick.”
“She said she was going to call me again later.”
“She and Ruth had an awful fight.”
Christine looked up. “What about?”
“I don’t know. When I arrived, I ran into Petra from the marketing department. She was in front of your office and said that maybe it wasn’t the best time to go in. Apparently Gabi and Ruth had an argument, and Ruth came out with her eyes puffy from crying.”
Christine thought back to her lunch with Gabi; she was fairly sure she knew what it was about. Luise poured the tea.
“Of course, I went in anyway. Gabi seemed fine. Do you have any idea of what it could have been about? I thought they were friends.”
Christine pushed her empty plate aside.
“That tasted good, Luise. I feel better already.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you know what it’s about?”
“Who knows? I think Gabi has a lot of problems at the moment in her private life; maybe she’ll tell you herself.”