by Dora Heldt
I saw Richard’s face in front of me. He had such a particular way of looking at me when I was getting undressed. Tender, full of desire, and a little lustful. I loved that look. I also loved what came after it.
The brake lights on the Opel Zafira in front of me suddenly lit up. I braked too, went to fifty, then thirty, and then came to a standstill.
Dido was blended out by the jolly NDR voice that cheerfully announced that there was now very slow-moving traffic for twenty-five kilometers on the A1 between the Bremen crossing and Stuckenborstel.
Great, I thought. But I still had time. And I was in a good mood.
The driver of the Opel laid his hand on his passenger’s neck. He said something to her, and she looked at him and laughed. Then she stroked his cheek and bent over and kissed him.
I cleared my throat and lit up a cigarette.
My separation was now ten months ago, and there was no doubt that my life had changed for the better since then. I felt at home in Hamburg, I liked my circle of girlfriends, I had more money, more freedom, more self-confidence, and I was in love again. But despite that there were still moments when I felt alone.
Last weekend Leonie and Michael had asked me over for a pre-Christmas coffee. I really liked the way they were in each other’s company. They never walked past each other without a brief touch or caress. After fifteen years they still looked at each other proudly and winked at one another.
The traffic was beginning to move, slowly.
My thoughts wandered back to Richard. When he stood up from the table we had been sitting at for hours, talking about the world, he went around the back of my chair and kissed me on the neck. I felt a small shiver.
I turned my concentration back to the highway. I drove slowly along the route on autopilot. For the last three months I’d been visiting Richard regularly, first in the hotel, then at his apartment, first just on Wednesdays, and now as often as we could. The small apartment in Bremen had become an important part of my new life, and I was happy each time I went.
Edith tried to push Richard’s face from my mind. And every weekend you’re sad because your wonderful guy is with his wife in Berlin. You guys aren’t Leonie and Michael, remember; you’re having an affair.
Charlotte answered. So what? As long as you feel good with him, it’s all fine. On weekends you have time for your girlfriends, for single life in the big city, for you. Not many people can have both; that’s a good thing.
Edith disagreed. You have no choice in the matter; it’s not your decision. And to top it off, if you’d driven to Sylt from Hamburg as you’d planned, you wouldn’t be sitting in this damn traffic jam now.
I felt a headache coming on and reminded myself it was the holidays.
Richard and I had eaten in an enchanting restaurant, walking back through the clear, starry, and cold night to his apartment afterwards, and then we drank another bottle of champagne at his place while undressing each other. Slowly and with endless pleasure.
Charlotte had a smile in her voice. And this morning you woke up to his caresses. He was right there beside you, and he didn’t want to let you leave.
Edith wouldn’t give up. But he did, because he had to go as well. And now you’re driving to Sylt alone.
By now I had a full-on headache and was starting to need the bathroom. After a short while I saw the sign: “Ostetal, 1000 meters.”
I put my turn signal on and drove into the parking lot. There was a bustling holiday atmosphere, something I really liked about service stations. Families with their cars packed with suitcases and Christmas presents, young people, who despite now having their own lives still went home for the holidays and were beaming with a little excited anticipation, mothers who shouted loudly that Kevin and Anastasia had to go to the bathroom now.
Washing my hands in the restroom between all the Kevins and Anastasias, I looked at myself in the big mirror.
Not bad at all, I thought. Relaxed posture, good clothes, good mood. That’s what you must look like when you’ve had sex three hours ago. This man was doing me good. And he made me beautiful. Charlotte smiled, and Edith stayed silent.
Before long I was heading for a free table in the cafeteria with coffee, rolls, and water for my headache pills.
You’re the only one who’s sitting here alone. Everyone else is with their loved ones.
I swallowed Edith’s accusatory voice down with the tablet.
At the next table someone was sitting with their loved one. Both were in their mid forties, and they sat opposite one another, sharing breakfast from a tray between them. Judging by their faces, they were sharing for financial rather than romantic reasons. She looked at him through narrow eyes…but he didn’t bother to look at her at all. They weren’t talking. They had probably been married for twenty years and were so saturated with the mundane nature of daily life and had so few real conversations that they no longer had any idea whether they even liked each other. Togetherness at any price.
It made me think of Nina.
We hadn’t seen much of each other in recent weeks; the sports center that we played squash in had been closed for the last month for renovations. Last Friday Nina had phoned me. She suggested that we meet up at the Christmas market in the town hall square for some mulled wine; otherwise, we wouldn’t see each other until the New Year.
As I walked up to where we were meeting, she was already waiting for me. She was in high spirits, her eyes sparkling, and after a short hello her news came rushing out.
“Christine, I’ve met someone. His name is Thomas, and it’s so wonderful.”
I was surprised, but happy for her. “Where did you meet, and when?”
She seemed elated. “I put an ad in the Scene, you know, the local magazine. Just imagine, I got forty-two responses; of course lots of them were useless, too young, too old, married, I’m sure you get the picture. But Thomas was one of them. Right age, no baggage, taller than me. We had a coffee date in Blankenese by the river, very romantic, and since then it’s all been great.”
That’s quick, I thought and asked, “Okay, so what’s he like? What does he do?”
Fidgeting, Nina pushed her hair back under her hat. “Well, he’s a civil servant, something in the transport office. He sails, he loves Formula One, and has lots of hobbies. The most important thing is that he’s had enough of single life and wants a serious relationship.”
I was baffled. Nina got seasick and hated Michael Schumacher. I tried to look enthusiastic. “That’s great. So when do I get to meet this Prince Charming?”
Nina looked a little strained. “Oh, let’s do that in the New Year. But Christine, just so you don’t get the wrong idea, he’s not the most good-looking of men, and you probably shouldn’t talk about books with him—he’s not really interested in that kind of thing.”
Now I was amazed. “But Nina, books are your job, so he should at least show an interest. How he looks doesn’t really matter.”
She laughed, a little falsely. “Oh, I’ll get him onto reading at some point; I’m sure he can manage a little of it. But apart from that it’s really great. Over New Year we’re going to the East Frisian Islands together.”
Togetherness at any price.
I was just as depressed by Nina’s obsessive goal to end her single life as I was by the silent couple next to me. They weren’t thinking about their feelings; perhaps they didn’t even have any for one another anymore. They got their satisfaction elsewhere—new furniture, a new car, two weeks in Mallorca. Vacationing together was agony, and out of the stifling boredom and frustrated arguments would come the inevitable postcard summary: “Great weather, great food. Best wishes.”
What Richard and I had was so much better after all. We saw each other because we wanted to, our conversations lasted hours, we listened to one another, held one another, desired each other’s body and soul. Not a single minute was wasted.
Edith had to have her say. You don’t see each other when you want to, you see each other w
hen it suits him. This isn’t just about feelings.
Charlotte replied, But there are a lot of feelings here. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you; he does you good. Look at the couple next to you. Do you want that instead?
I stood up and took my tray back. On the way to my car I found myself thinking about Anke and Werner. They had been married for twenty years, fourteen of which Anke had had younger lovers for. Whenever they make her feel too old, she just goes back to Werner, feels younger again because of their twenty-year age gap, and then the whole game starts all over again.
Werner suffers but doesn’t dwell on it, buys one house after the other, increases his wealth for all to see, and that’s how he gets his legitimacy. His fear of a new life was clearly bigger than his suffering in his current one. I shook these miserable stories from my mind, turned the key in the ignition, and rejoined the highway.
Richard’s face pushed its way back into my thoughts.
We always slept entwined in one another, my back against his stomach, his hand on my breast. I could still feel the warmth of his skin, his steady breathing on the back of my neck. As soon as I drove away from him, I missed him.
The feeling of longing overcame me, followed by a wave of sadness. I turned the volume on the car radio back up and tried to capture some childlike anticipation for the family festivities to come with the help of the cheerful Christmas songs. I almost managed it.
But Edith stepped in. You’re not a child anymore, and you’re missing Richard already. You’re not going to see him again for three whole weeks.
The wave of sadness grew.
My cell phone saved me from my crumbling attempt to control my thoughts. I pressed the green button, and Dorothea’s voice came through the hands-free speaker.
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“I’m almost exactly halfway between Bremen and Hamburg on my way to Sylt.”
“Oh yes, you’re going today. Why Bremen? Oh, were you with Richard?”
I had told Dorothea about him four weeks ago. Dorothea loved hearing about people’s love lives, and she was excited for me. She reacted similarly to Marleen and brushed away any misgivings. “Life is too short to be unhappy in love. Just enjoy it.”
“Yes, I was at Richard’s. It was the last time I’ll see him for the next three weeks.”
The longing mounted again.
Dorothea laughed. “Oh, come on, you’ll hardly have time to miss him. Once you get back from Sylt there’ll be Luise’s ‘Between the Years’ party, then it’ll be New Year’s Eve, then we have to get through all the vouchers for saunas, makeovers, and cinema that I get from my mother each year for Christmas. Believe me, there’ll be so much to do that you wouldn’t have time to go to Bremen anyway.”
I took a deep breath.
Before I could say a word, Dorothea carried on. “It’ll be lovely. I’m off work until the tenth of January too, and we’ve hardly seen each other recently. You’re always with Richard. Just kidding! Anyway, he’ll be missing you too; you’re not the only one. And that’s the good thing about it, looking forward to seeing each other, no moaning or squabbling, no mundane daily life, just champagne, sex, and butterflies in your stomach.”
Dorothea’s confidence filled the whole car.
My voice became more lighthearted. “Was Nils with you?”
Dorothea sighed contentedly before she said, “Yes, for five days. It was divine, but to be honest I’m happy that he’s gone now too. His things were everywhere in my apartment; I’m not used to such close proximity.”
Dorothea had a three-bedroom apartment. I started to laugh.
“You poor thing. Well, now you’ve got free reign for your quirks. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and give your family my love.”
“Sweetheart, the same back at you. Drive safely, kiss all the Santa Clauses you can, and I’ll look forward to seeing you next week. Until then, bye!”
I pressed the button on the hands-free and the radio kicked back in.
“Last Christmas.” I must have heard this song playing on the way to Sylt every year for the last twenty years.
Over the next hour I gave in to my thoughts. About Richard, about couples, about love, about Christmas. I’d just gone through the Elbe Tunnel when Luise phoned.
“Hello, Christine. Are you already on the island?”
“Luise! No, I’m still en route. And you?”
“I’m at home. I’ve just got back from shopping, and for the first time in my life I just bought a Christmas tree and dragged it here all by myself. I’m really proud.”
Picturing her slim figure, I was suspicious about the size of the tree.
“I thought you were going to your father’s place in Berlin? Are you at home by yourself?”
I heard a smile in her voice. “Actually, that’s what I was calling to tell you about. No, I cancelled going to Berlin. I met up with Alex two weeks ago. It was really amazing, and he’s coming this evening and staying until New Year. So you’ll get to meet him next week.”
“Luise, that’s great! Are you happy?”
“More than I have been in years. I’ll tell you the rest next week. I have to start cooking now. We’ll see each other on Friday at my place. I’m looking forward to it. Oh yes, and merry Christmas!”
“The same to you, have a wonderful few days. See you next week.”
As I hung up I felt happy for Luise, and the longing for Richard came back.
My gaze fell on the fuel gauge. I would have to make another stop at the next rest station. By now I was already past Schleswig. When I saw the sign for the Hüttener Berge rest stop, I put the turn signal on and joined the right lane.
There was a line in front of the gas pumps. It was the last gas station before the Danish border, so I joined the line, a little irritated, but there was nothing else I could do. Three cars were in front of me, so I turned the engine off and rolled the window down. Suddenly I heard the squeal of brakes and saw a Mercedes, driven by a woman who had just cut in front of a minibus.
There was no crash, but despite that a hefty argument kicked off between the woman and her passenger. He was gesticulating wildly at her with an enraged expression. Her answer was just as forceful; she got out, went around the car, and ripped the passenger door open. He jumped out, pushed her brusquely aside, and then she got back in, and I could still hear her loud and angry voice.
“I’ve had enough! I’ve had it up to here with you!”
The man sat behind the steering wheel, turned the engine back on, and drove off aggressively.
I watched them go and wondered where their anger was coming from. How could an incident like that, where nothing had really happened, provoke so much rage and contempt?
I had bypassed the stage in my marriage when love turns first to indifference and then to contempt. Perhaps the only reason things with Richard were so good was because it wasn’t real life. Perhaps I was doing everything wrong all over again.
Charlotte shook her head. You two talk about everything. You’re honest with one another. You help each other. You have a strong erotic connection and an open spiritual connection. That’s happiness. Sometimes it can work.
It was my turn, so I got out and filled the car with gas.
Edith wasn’t convinced. So why are you standing here alone? Where’s the happiness in that?
Charlotte held her ground. Better to be happy sometimes than constantly in danger of being looked at with such rage and contempt.
I was still mumbling this sentence to myself as I went up to pay. The man at the counter looked at me, surprised. “Sorry?”
“Oh, I mean, merry Christmas.”
He nodded at me blankly. “Yes, same to you.”
It was starting to snow as I left the highway. The last four kilometers to Niebüll were on country roads. The radio was playing “White Christmas” now, as the snowfall got heavier and the road got slippery. I had to concentrate and had no time for thoughts or voices. Before lon
g, I reached the car embarkation area and drove slowly onto the motorail. Once my car was parked and the engine off, I leaned back on the headrest, relieved. I hated driving on black ice.
The motorail slowly set off.
Edith was back in a flash. If something had happened to you back there, you wouldn’t even have been able to reach Richard.
Charlotte answered. But before you left, he said this morning in a very concerned and tender voice, “Look after yourself. I’m looking forward to the eighth of January.” And he really meant it.
Edith’s voice was spiteful. “Look after yourself.” What else is he supposed to say? He hasn’t even phoned to ask how the journey’s going. Out of sight, out of mind. You have to look after yourself; otherwise, you’re going to end up getting hurt in all this.
Call me, Richard, I thought, with a fervor that surprised even me.
When I left that morning, he had stood in the doorway, naked and smiling at me. The memory of it made my knees feel weak.
It’s love, said Charlotte.
It’s already starting to hurt. Think about Franziska, said Edith.
I looked at the sea—cut in two by the Hindenburg Dam. Watching the water calmed me.
Perhaps they were all right. Edith in that the feelings between Richard and I wouldn’t be enough to change the things that needed to be changed. Charlotte in that you’re lucky to experience something like this and you need to approach it with patience and love. Franziska in that love without a future can be agony. Nina in that you can only conquer loneliness with a partner. Luise in that we deserve the best and shouldn’t settle for any less. Dorothea in that we can only rely on ourselves. Marleen in that everything will happen as it’s meant to.
We rolled onto the island, the windows steamed up with the cold.
I thought I’d come to understand life, but at that moment I had no idea what it was doing to me. Some things were good for me, but others caused me pain. I would find out with time.