Inseparable

by Heldt,Dora

  They said good-bye. Ruth watched as Christine disappeared around the corner. There were still two weeks to go until Christine’s surprise party.

  If the questionnaire had unleashed similar emotions with the others as it had with her, Christine wouldn’t be the only one the night of the party was going to have a big impact on.

  Questionnaire

  Name, age, and place of residence?

  Luise, forty-two, Hamburg

  When and where did you meet Christine?

  We were colleagues before we got to know each other properly outside of work. It happened five years ago when we had a meal together in the restaurant Cox.

  What was your best experience together?

  A shopping trip to Stilwerk. We spent an unspeakable amount of money that afternoon. We set out to furnish our new lives and, by the end of the day, felt like we’d made it.

  What made your friendship stand out? And what sets Christine apart as a friend?

  The parallels in our lives. We were both single, had the same job, and suddenly had more money and were pretty scared, too. Christine really helped me get back on my feet again after my separation. She was going through the same thing and could really understand me. She knew what I needed.

  What’s your motto in life?

  What’s in the past is in the past. You shouldn’t regret what’s already happened.

  A friend is…?

  A strong shoulder, and sometimes a mirror.

  What was your first reaction to this invitation?

  I hope Christine enjoys the party as much as we enjoyed the organizing!

  Hamburg

  Ines skimmed over Luise’s questionnaire, then put it with the others. She crossed Luise’s name off of the list. So far seven had been sent back. She counted the names that weren’t yet crossed off. At least everyone had been in touch and she knew who was coming. This evening Dorothea, Georg, and she were going to the restaurant again to discuss the buffet. She didn’t have to give them the exact numbers until the day before the party, in two weeks’ time.

  Ines’s initial skepticism had faded away. She was surprised at how honest and heartfelt the answers on the questionnaires had been so far. She had spoken to Frauke and Dani on the phone and could still hear their voices in her ear: Frauke’s full of excitement and Dani’s with emotion.

  After their last meet-up, Luise had told her that she had called an old friend in Berlin for the first time in eight years. They had chatted for almost an hour and were planning to meet up when Luise next went to visit her father in Berlin.

  “All these stories about old times have made me sentimental.” By now, Luise was completely won over to the plan. “You forget so many of the people you used to know. Karina helped me a lot back when my parents split up. But since I’ve been living in Hamburg, I’ve hardly thought of her, only just recently. And it was only because I wondered who you would have tried to find for me, who has played a part in my life. It’s funny, it made me remember people I’d forgotten about. It’s contagious, this search.”

  Ines had been having similar thoughts. “I was thinking about passing around a list to everyone on the night so they can put their names and addresses down. Then the next search team won’t have to do so much detective work.”

  Luise laughed. “But that was the best part. When I think of how overjoyed I was to see that napkin from the butchers in Flensburg. It was like winning the lottery. By the way, has Linda Love sent back her questionnaire yet?”

  Ines looked at her, her expression giving nothing away. “I’m not telling you. You’ll hear the results of the search in two weeks; it’s nice to leave some things as a surprise.”

  “I can’t wait to put the faces to the names. It’s going to be great; I’m sure of it.”

  At that moment, the phone rang. Ines stood up and picked it up.

  “Hello, this is Gudrun Peterson from Lübeck. Is this Ines?”

  “Yes, hi, you’re Gudrun with the horse, right? At least, that’s what we call you here.”

  Gudrun laughed. Her voice was deep and instantly likeable.

  “I only borrowed that horse: I did go riding, but I never had my own horse. Anyway, that was ages ago. The reason I’m calling is that I said I could make it to the party and you wrote me that you know a hotel near the restaurant. Could you give me the address?”

  “Yes, wait, I’ve got the details here among all my lists. Thank you for the quick response, by the way. If the Hamburg girls were as on the ball as you are then I’d have everything figured out already.”

  Gudrun wrote down the address Ines dictated to her and thanked her. “That’s wonderful, I’ll get a room booked for myself and Frauke right away. Frauke has been excited ever since the invite arrived; this really was a great idea. Tell me, is Antje coming, too?”

  Ines laughed, then suddenly realized that Antje had come up in Gudrun’s questionnaire, too. She meant the question seriously. Ines cleared her throat.

  “Antje…of course, you didn’t know. Are you still in touch with her?”

  “What didn’t I know? Well, contact is a bit of an exaggeration, I know she moved to Cuxhaven or Wilhelmshaven after her divorce, near to Christine. I bumped into her last year at the Christmas market when I was out with my mother. Antje was there with her boyfriend. She introduced him proudly and then fawned over him the whole time; my mother found it so irritating that we didn’t talk for long.”

  “Yes, well, was the boyfriend called Bernd?”

  “Yes, that’s it! He was a bit chubby and seemed a bit on edge with all the festive hustle and bustle and Antje’s clinginess. But then, I don’t really know him.”

  “Well, we do. He’s Christine’s ex-husband. He and Antje were having an affair behind her back for several years; that’s why they got divorced.”

  Gudrun tried to catch her breath. “Unbelievable! But Antje and Christine were as thick as thieves for years. How on earth did Antje explain herself?”

  “She didn’t. She told Bernd to end the marriage, which he did, but without giving any real reason. He just told Christine that he wasn’t in love with her anymore, that married life was too much for him, something like that. Christine only found out about the affair later, once she’d moved to Hamburg.”

  “And she never confronted Antje?”

  “No, there was no point. Antje was too much of a coward; she just hid behind Bernd, and since then there’s been no more contact.”

  Gudrun paused for a second. Then she said: “I can understand that, but I certainly would have had a few things to say to her; she wouldn’t have gotten away with it that easily. That’s so awful. But this Bernd really didn’t really give the impression that Antje was love of his life.”

  Ines laughed. “Well, we kind of hoped she wouldn’t be, so it seems some wishes do come true.”

  “But I’m glad you told me. Just imagine if I’d asked Christine about Antje. That would have been really embarrassing.”

  Ines reassured her. “No, that chapter’s done for her, I think. It hurt her a great deal, of course it did, and it’s changed her when it comes to close girlfriends. That’s why we dreamed this whole thing up. But Antje’s dead to her now. I only hope we’ll be successful in our attempt to show her that behavior like that is an exception. Then she can finally fill the void her memories of Antje have left her with.”

  Gudrun took a deep breath. “I think that’s the worst thing someone can ever do. It’s such a breach of trust, and I’m certain it’s an exception. I’ll bet she wasn’t honest as a friend even before the affair either. Some people are just bad to the core. OK, Ines, I promise you that Frauke and I will do our best to patch up Christine’s soul. See you in two weeks. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Hamburg

  Christine and Sven had been walking around the Alster in silence for the last half hour. Christine already had a stitch; Sven had set the pace and she didn’t dare ask him to take smaller steps. He got quicker and quicker, and she had to mak
e an effort not to pant. But before long she couldn’t go on: she stopped and gasped for air. Sven only noticed after a few meters, then stopped and turned around. Christine’s face was bright red, and she looked so worn out that he couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s up? Out of shape?”

  Breathing heavily, Christine stared at him. “You…are…so…fast.”

  “Then say something.”

  Sven walked back and stopped right in front of her. He looked down at her, shook his head, and pulled her to him. Christine pressed her forehead against his chest as he rested his chin on her head and stared out over the Alster. He asked himself why he could never just fall in love easily, without complications. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry did it, everywhere, every day. Sven released himself from Christine’s arms and pushed his hand into her jacket pocket.

  “Come on, I’ll walk slowly now. Besides, I thought you used to be a top handball player.”

  “Used to be.” Christine took his hand. “With the emphasis on used to.”

  They walked on, slowly this time.

  They had made plans to have dinner the previous evening. Sven had wanted to cook, so Christine came to his apartment for the second time. When she arrived, bearing a bottle of red wine, he kissed her briefly on the cheek then went straight back into the kitchen. Turning down all her offers to help, he pointed her toward a seat at the kitchen table and poured her a glass of wine. As he diced the vegetables, he told her about the congress he’d been at for the last three days. He was in a good mood, laughing throughout, and made no references to the night they had spent together. He was just the same as before.

  Christine’s tension ebbed away as she listened to him, watching him cook. As she drank her wine, she couldn’t help but notice how strong his hands looked.

  Once the meal was ready and they were sitting opposite each other at the table, Sven raised his glass. “It’s great to see you.”

  “Thank you for the invite. Sven, I just wanted to say, about last week…”

  He interrupted her. “After dinner, OK? I just like to chat about lighthearted things while I’m eating. We can figure everything else out over coffee. Please.”

  Christine nodded and tried, not entirely successfully, to concentrate on the meal.

  Their good-bye after the night they spent together had been a little deflated. After Sven told her she had talked about Richard in her sleep, he had looked at her questioningly. Christine had a terrible headache and felt completely confused. Avoiding his gaze, she said softly that, as she had already told him, her private life was rather complicated at the moment. Sven took his hand off her leg and stood up abruptly.

  “I’m going to get more coffee,” he said, only coming back five minutes later. And without the coffee. Then, he told her about his marriage, about how much he had suffered. Christine had felt like giving herself a slap.

  He sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “I have no idea what’s going on in your private life, but I doubt that what we’re doing here is going to make it any easier. I could be wrong, but please, Christine, I’m not looking to be used or messed around anymore. I’ve had enough of all that.”

  “I don’t want to use you, Sven. I will try to explain everything. But please, not now. Give me a few days to sort myself out.” She looked at him and laid her finger softly against his mouth. “I had a great evening and a wonderful night. I mean that. I don’t regret it, nor was it a mistake. We’ll talk next week, OK?”

  Sven had done a great job with the cooking. After the sea bream, they had mascarpone crème for dessert. He cleaned everything up afterwards, again refusing her offers to help.

  “Go and sit down in the living room. I’ll be in soon with the espresso.”

  Taking her wine glass with her, Christine went and sat down on the black leather sofa, pulling her legs up under her. She’d been impressed by this apartment the first time she saw it. Sven had taste; she liked the furniture, the lamps, the art, the way he’d furnished it all. She tried to make out the titles on the book spines on the shelves; he even read the same books she liked.

  If I hadn’t fallen in love with Richard…she thought and shook the thought away. Maybe she wasn’t even in love with Richard anymore. She asked herself how much hurt and rejection love could actually survive. How much longer she should take his feelings into consideration, how much longer she should keep on hoping he would decide to get a divorce at some point. If that was even a consideration for him. At the end of the day it came down to money. And good old Sabine placed a great deal of importance on her image and role.

  And so Christine stayed the lover on the side and was allowed to be with him when it was convenient. She had brushed her needs under the carpet so she didn’t pressure him; she wasn’t supposed to ask questions, but listen; was supposed to comfort, but not demand comfort for herself. How stupid are you? she asked herself. Even you don’t believe anymore that anything would ever change.

  Sven came into the room with the espresso and a bottle of grappa. He put it all down on the table, sat down next to her, and poured.

  “Cheers. Now you can tell me all the strange thoughts that have been going around in your head since our night together. But please, be open and honest; I can take it.”

  Christine looked at him for a long while. He really was a great guy. She drank her grappa down in one shot, put the glass down, and took a deep breath.

  “Well, I met Richard in Berlin a long time ago…”

  Christine told the story, just as it was. The married man, the divorced but independent lover, the feelings, the torment. She described the jealousy and the loneliness, the impossibility of making plans, and this constant hope for some kind of decision. She told him about the rollercoaster of emotions she went through when incomprehensible things happened, and about the eternal and soul-destroying waiting around.

  The longer Christine talked, the less she could understand the magic she had once seen in the whole story. Now, it just sounded seedy.

  By the end, Christine was blinking away the tears threatening to spill out. Sven noticed and caressed her. “Go ahead and cry; you must have been suppressing a lot. How long have you been putting up with this? Three years?”

  Christine nodded and battled the tears. She didn’t want Sven to realize how miserable she had been. He was the first man since Richard she’d felt strongly for. And she didn’t want to sit next to him crying. Not about Richard anyway.

  Sven poured her another grappa. “I wouldn’t have thought you would put up with something like that. You seem so independent.”

  Christine blew her nose. “I never thought I would either. It all started so slowly. As long as the scales balanced, the good times outweighing the bad, I could cope with it. But after a while there was this big fat kid sitting on one side, and then there was no chance the other could even get off the ground.”

  Sven laughed softly. “Come here.” He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her. “I could tell you you’re too good for that, that it would be much simpler to be with me, that you should give Richard his marching orders and send him back to his wife, whatever. But that probably wouldn’t help you much. So all we can do is get drunk together, tell each other silly stories, and see what happens. That is, unless you have a better idea?”

  Christine looked into his eyes; they were very green. Then she shut hers. And kissed him.

  They didn’t really get drunk, and ended up making love on the sofa. Afterwards, the tears came again: Christine didn’t know if it was her hormones or the sound of a text message on her cell phone. She didn’t have to look; it could only be from Richard. Toward one in the morning, she decided to go home, and read the message in the taxi.

  Sending my love and kisses, Richard.

  She thought about the fact that Sven had probably heard her cell phone, too, and that he was probably thinking it was the reason she had left. She typed a message. Tonight was wonderful. You’re amazing. Let’s have breakfast together t
omorrow. Kisses, C.

  She made sure she sent it to Sven’s number.

  He answered right away. 11am at Prüsse, get yourself figured out. Kiss.

  And now they were walking around the Alster. And Sven was hardly saying a word.

  Christine stopped abruptly. “Talk to me, please.”

  Sven looked at her, baffled. “I thought you didn’t want to talk. I’ve been biting my lip the whole time because I was trying not to ask you anything.”

  “But why? I’ve been wondering the whole time what I’ve done wrong.”

  “Christine.” Sven grasped her elbows and pulled her toward him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m feeling guilty. I was worried that I took advantage of you being upset to sleep with you, right there and then. And that you’re mad at me for it. You were so quiet at breakfast.”

  “I’m just not that talkative first thing. And I thought you were annoyed that I didn’t stay the night and went home. Which, by the way, had nothing to do with that text message.”

  Sven kissed her on the forehead. “Of course not. I can’t expect that something which has been an issue for three years will suddenly resolve itself overnight. Come on, we have to talk about this. We’ve been walking around the Alster in silence for almost an hour now. So come on, let’s make a pledge, repeat after me: I promise I’ll do better.”

  Christine kissed him on the chin. “I promise I’ll do better. And, by the way, I wanted it, too, what we did on the couch.”