Melusine comes back into the living room, carrying a tray.
“I think we need something Ingeborg-ish but Jonas disagrees, he says her work is too depressing.”
“The idea has potential,” Melusine hands Nika a mug. “Let’s see what Felix says and if she has any suggestions.”
“About what?” Felix comes back into the room and yawns. “I’m so tired. All this excitement has worn me out. Listen to me, me who used to club ’til all hours. I’m an old lady and proud of it. Melu, I’ve got my meeting tonight, so I can’t stay much longer. What do I think about what?”
Nika explains about Ingeborg Bachmann and Felix looks doubtful.
“I can’t say until I’ve read some of her work. Can I borrow a copy of her poems?”
“Won’t be hard to find in this house,” Jonas jokes and Melusine returns and hands Darkness Spoken to Felix, who thanks her.
“I’ll try to look tonight. We’ll start on a menu, and then the logo and the colour scheme. Shall I meet you back here in the morning?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Melusine says. “Take a cab.”
“Enough cabbing,” Felix is stern. “I’m the business manager and we don’t have any profits yet. I’ll take a bus.” Then she gives Melusine a quick hug.
“We can give you a ride if you like,” Nika says. “Hey, Melu, when does your book come out?”
“We haven’t even started on galleys,” Melusine replies. “They’re a small press, it takes time. And thank god for that because honestly I couldn’t do one more thing right now.” She waves goodnight and thinks she is so tired that she might sleep in her clothes.
She wishes she had the energy to update Gunther but even that will have to wait. His emotional distance and erratic mood swings seem to have passed and his past few letters have resumed their personal and affectionate tone. After Hans left, Melusine told Gunther to send letters to her house and she no longer has to do the secret drives to the post office box. In a way she misses those drives — the excitement, the nervousness, the anticipation, but it is also much nicer having the letters come straight to her home.
And she is wondering now whether they should start emailing each other, after all, they have established a real relationship which was the main, unspoken goal of the letter writing. It has been close to a year since they met and she wonders if he will remember the date.
In spite of her exhaustion, she scribbles a note to him.
My dear friend, I’m so tired. Plans for the café take flight. We both have such exciting lives now. Do you even remember me, really? I remember you. Every freckle.
She must be tired or she would not be saying things like this; she has not been this personal in a long time.
I do hope to see you again one day. I know though, that you will find love elsewhere, and I understand that. You’ve been such a great friend to me. Goodness, I’m rambling! I will concentrate; the point of this letter is to suggest that you and I take a bold leap and try some modern technology, what do you say? A bit of email perhaps? It’s just that sometimes I long for a more immediate answer or a way to chat to you in a more direct manner. But I don’t mean to pressure you. Here’s my email address if you agree. And if you don’t email, then I know we should just carry on this way. And now I’m going to seal and send this before I say any more. Goodnight. Melu.
She affixes the stamps that she always has at the ready and, tired though she is, she walks down the street to the post box on the corner and mails her letter.
She stands for a moment, looking at the silent houses around her. Warm lights glow behind the closed curtains and she sees the flickering brightness of TV pictures changing rapidly.
The leaves have all fallen, and although the street lights are on, it is dark and there is a sharp wind. The smell of late autumn is strong and Melusine suddenly feels cold and lonely. She pulls her long sweater around her and hurries home.
37.
“I FEEL SICK WITH NERVES,” Felix says to Melusine who nods and rubs her chest. She has had terrible indigestion for the weeks leading up to the launch of their coffeeshop and she wonders for the dozenth time if she has an ulcer.
They both look around. “It’s so beautiful,” Melusine says. “What if no one comes? We put all this work into it and Dieter spent so much money, what if no one comes?”
A big sign hangs across the front windows: Welcome to Cheerful With Music, A New Coffeeshop, Grand Opening, 11:00 a.m. Come and Try Our Delicious Pastries!
After much discussion, they decided to name the coffee shop with words taken from Ingeborg’s poem, Advertisement. It had been Felix’s idea and the others had not taken much persuading, even Dieter had been loudly in favour.
“Has the right arty feel and makes you want to be there, right? So listen, Felix, not bad, not bad at all.”
Now Felix and Melusine look at one another.
“Well,” Melusine says briskly, “Rome wasn’t built overnight as they say. We’ll just open our doors and keep them open and slowly but surely, hopefully, we’ll be fine.”
She straightens a menu. “I can’t help but wish that we’d started with a smaller shop, this place is huge. Looking at it now, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to fill it.”
“It just looks huge now because it’s only you and me and we’re scared out of our wits,” Felix says, gnawing on a finger. “Great, there’s Jonas and Nika. They’ll help distract us. How much longer before we open?”
“Half an hour,” Melusine says, looking at the brightly painted mosaic and gold-leaf Dali-styled clock on the wall that one of the students had submitted.
Dieter, having liked the colour scheme of Melusine’s home, had suggested they create the same bold and vivid interior. Melusine and Felix had asked local art students to submit their work and they chose a dozen paintings that added to the jewel-like brilliance of the décor.
Melusine and Felix had scoured antique stores in Frankfurt, looking for chandeliers and small table lamps, wanting to add a classical feel to the look, and the crystal chandeliers lit up the room with a glittering sparkle.
They had also spent hours selecting the chairs; they had to be inviting and comfortable as they wanted people to feel at home at the café, and the tables had to be the perfect height for both casual conversation and a person working with a laptop.
There are also two deep red leather sofas, with small coffee tables and it all looks cavernous to Melusine now, all those empty tables and chairs and sofas; it will take so many people to fill them all.
They hear Nika and Jonas come in through the back entrance.
“Are you both nervous?” Jonas asks and he takes one look at them and bursts out laughing. “You two! It’s going to be fantastic! Nika and I have been putting up posters everywhere, all around the university and Dieter says he is bringing friends; he’ll be here soon. Mami, wait, something came for you at the house, do you have a secret admirer?”
Melusine goes blank, she has no idea what he’s talking about.
Jonas goes into the back and returns with a gigantic floral arrangement that must have cost a fortune. Huge yellow sunflowers mix with yellow roses; the bouquet is a burst of bright sunshine and a perfect complement to the café.
“Did Dieter send the flowers?” she asks Jonas, momentarily distracted from her worry that no one will show up for the café opening.
Jonas shakes his head. “I don’t think so. And wouldn’t he have sent them here? There’s a card for you.”
A sudden wild hope fills Melusine’s heart and, not wanting to admit it to herself, she holds her breath as she opens the card.
The café will be incredible, because you’re always amazing. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. It’s nearly our anniversary, do you remember? I do. I miss you. Good luck Melu, I’m with you in spirit. Gunther.
Melusine closes her eyes for a moment and hugs the card to her chest.
“Who’s it from?” Jonas is curious.
“A f
riend I met in Vegas,” Melusine says. “We’ve kept in touch. My goodness, yes, this arrangement must have cost a fortune.” Her face is flushed and she is beaming and the other three look at her curiously.
“It’s a good omen,” she says, her eyes bright. “Now I know we’ll be fine. Okay everybody, put on your aprons and let’s get ready.”
They grab their aprons embroidered with the Cheerful With Music logo and had no sooner tied them when they saw that a large crowd had gathered outside the front door.
“Fifteen minutes early,” Melusine said and she made for the door when Felix grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“No, you don’t,” she said laughing, “they must wait. You’ll see, they’ll like us even more if they have to wait.”
At the exact hour of eleven, they open the doors and are soon flooded with customers who dive into the pastries and coffees.
Seven hours later the crowd finally lets up and Dieter looks around, satisfied. “You’re a hit,” he tells Melusine and Felix. “You guys did good.” He looks at them; they’re glowing with happiness and adrenalin.
“Keep up the energy,” he laughs, “you’ve got to do this again tomorrow and every weekday after that. Come on, Martin, we need to pack for our spa weekend in Gstaad. See you all next week! Great job!”
“I’d better get things prepared for tomorrow morning’s baking,” Melusine says, getting up.
“I kept up with the dishes,” Nika says and Melusine gives her a big hug.
“Mami,” Jonas says, “did you see that awful journalist was here, the one from Der Spiegel? She came all the way from Frankfurt. You’d think they’d leave us alone by now. You can bet the papers will be full of Papa again tomorrow.”
“Don’t let her get to you, Jonas,” Felix advises from behind the cash register. “Wow, we did really well today! I know it was the opening with so much hype but still. Really, Jonas, you can’t let them get to you. I know it hurts though.”
He nods. “It isn’t easy.”
And it is not easy for Felix either, the following day when it turns out that she is the main focus of the woman’s vitriol. There are a couple of paragraphs about Hans predilection for toes and Melusine’s naked photographs, along with a small nod to the café, but the main focus is on Felix and the woman had really done her homework.
“I can’t believe this,” Felix says, reading the article for the fifth time. “Was she fucking following me around my whole life? Where did she get this stuff? Makes you wonder how many friends I don’t have, who’d be willing to share all this shit.”
Melusine tries to hug her but Felix is resistant; she is angry and hurt. Melusine tries to comfort her, “I wasn’t spared either. She dredged up the whole Hans thing again, too.”
But Felix is not consoled. “And everybody knows I’m a cross-dresser, you’d think she discovered it all by herself for fuck’s sake.” She is crying and her makeup is running down her face.
She is standing in the back with Melusine who is keeping an eye on the front. The phone rings and Melusine answers it, speaks for a moment and hands it to Felix.
“I’m going to be out front,” Melusine says, and she slips out.
A few moments later Felix appears. She has fixed her makeup and is smiling again.
“That was Dieter,” she says unnecessarily to Melusine, “he said fuck the newspaper bitch. That’s exactly what he said! He never swears! He was so angry. He even phoned from the airport. He said he was worried this would make me relapse back into drugs. As if!” She’s grinning now. “I’ve never heard Dieter so angry. Okay, Melu, onwards and upwards!”
“Onwards and upwards,” Melusine says, a little vaguely but with a smile, her nose close to a yellow rose.
38.
FELIX FINDS a small apartment near the café and she joins Melusine every morning at five a.m. Yawning, they wordlessly go about their work, opening the café at six-thirty a.m., ready for the early birds, and there are a great deal of those.
Gunther had immediately and enthusiastically accepted Melusine’s invitation to email and she is loving hearing from him two or three times a day. She brings her laptop to work so she can update him constantly and there is a new intimacy to their chatter; they are flirting more, which brings a spring to Melusine’s step and a glow to her face.
Christmas comes and the café is busier than ever with Melusine’s Stollen and traditional German cookies selling out every day. She triples her baking shifts and she and Felix hire Emily, a vivacious student from the university, to help out in the front, serving customers.
Dieter watches the baked goods flying out the door as fast as Melusine can make them and he senses a winner on his hands. He tells Melusine that she should think about doing a year-long range of takeout baked goods.
“We’ll hire more staff to run the café,” he says, waving his hand around expansively.
Melusine and Felix look at one another. They do not mind an extra person for a short period of time but they like it better when it is just the two of them.
On the night of Christmas Eve, Melusine hosts a small feast for Jonas and Nika. They are subdued at the dinner table; Christmas is hard, knowing that Hans is lost to them.
“He was doing so well this time last year,” Jonas says and he looks baffled. “He was taking Mimi for walks and looking healthier and laughing and everything.”
“I know,” Melusine says. “I still don’t know what really happened. Yes, he’d always missed Kateri, but we all knew that. But he was normal for all those years and then he just lost it.”
“I’m telling you, Mami, it was that Healing cult whatever,” Jonas says, helping himself to more smoked ham and potato salad, and Melusine nods.
“It had to be. There’s no other explanation.”
Out of deference to Hans, they have hardly decorated the house at all, limiting themselves to setting the table with the traditional Christmas napkins and tablecloths.
“The cult place could have been the trigger,” Nika says gently, “but maybe if it hadn’t been them, it would have been something else. He was so vulnerable that the trigger to his breakdown could have come from anywhere.”
Jonas shakes his head. “No, it was them, I know it was. First they brainwashed him to give them all his money and then, when he didn’t have any more, they didn’t care and it was too late.”
“Ach, Jonas, I agree with Nika,” Melusine says and she thinks about the obsessiveness with which Hans would rub her feet, and about their literally strangled sex life.
“There were lots of things,” she says now. “Lots of little signs, it’s just that I had no idea. But you know, all we can do is be grateful that we have each other and we’ll take the best care of your father that we can.”
They had all visited him earlier that afternoon, and taken him a food basket, but he was drunk and manic and had no idea who they were.
“I’ll see he gets this,” Kristian says, taking the basket. “You know I won’t steal it, he’s my friend. I doubt he’ll eat any of it though but he’ll share it like he always does and the rest of us guys thank you.”
Jonas thanks him and they all watch Hans who is waving his hands around and talking incessantly to a stoned Jamaican giant with long dreadlocks.
Melusine had invited Felix to their dinner but the now-blonde lass chose to be with her group instead, saying that Christmas brought its own challenges that she wasn’t quite ready to handle without her counselor. Felix did not yet trust herself to be the caretaker of the modicum of peace she had rescued out of the ashes of her life.
“I’ve got an admission to make,” Melusine says sheepishly, at the Christmas dinner table, and Jonas looks amused.
“You’ve written another book, or done another photoshoot?”
She swats him with a napkin. “No, my sweet boy. I was going to bring dessert from the café, right? Something I baked but then we sold out, and there was nothing left… Anyway, here’s the thing and it’s a bit ironic … the only t
hing we have for dessert is store-bought Stollen.”
The three of them look at each other and Nika starts giggling. They’re soon all howling with laughter and just when it subsides, Jonas pipes up: “If that doesn’t just take the cake, Mami,” which sets them off again, tears streaming down their cheeks.
Five
a long, long love
has seen its wings grow heavy
39.
ONE MONDAY MORNING in mid-January, Melusine gets in at her usual time to start baking. She lets herself into the coffee shop and does not notice a woman watching her from across the street. The woman is holding a bundled-up baby who is fast asleep.
Felix arrives and starts brewing coffee. She does not notice the woman with the baby either.
The café doors open at six-thirty and the woman watches as a steady crowd floods the café for fresh buns, pastries and coffees. The baby is still asleep.
Things slow down midmorning but still, the woman does not approach the café. The baby has woken up and she has given him a bottle of formula but he is restless and niggly. He likes to be carried when he is awake; walked back and forth for hours.
The woman then leaves and gets on a bus. She travels to the other end of town. The baby is content now, sucking his thumb and grinning at the other passengers. He is a big boy, close to eighteen pounds even though he is only six months old.
The woman gets off the bus and crosses the street, entering a library that faces a small park. She puts one of the baby’s blankets on a table near the window and lays him down. She gives him another bottle of formula and then changes his diaper. She dresses him again and absentmindedly dangles a toy above his head and he coos and smiles while the woman watches the park, waiting for the homeless men to emerge from their cardboard homes and filthy secret doorways where they sleep.
She is rewarded at noon, as a straggly crowd gathers; stretching, yawning and scratching.
She can see them clearly and yes, there he is.
Hans.
A Glittering Chaos Page 25