I nodded, relieved. “How’s your father doing? Is Aunt Helen being a drama queen again or is it really serious?”
Lukas turned pale under his tan. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look good,” he said as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “When I went to visit him in the hospital today, he was barely responsive.”
I didn’t know how to console him. For years we had been like siblings, but we’d grown apart. I tried to get him to smile, but I failed miserably.
Lukas seemed to want to say something more but decided against it. He opened the double doors to the dining room and we entered the lion’s den together.
I approached the large, family-style table with hesitant steps; I was thankful to Lukas, who gently guided us toward two empty chairs. To avoid the curious looks of my relatives, I focused my gaze on the floor-to-ceiling window, which offered an impressive view of the garden.
I cleared my throat nervously and noticed that my cheeks felt hot. I’d always hated being the center of attention, but now I had no choice. “Hello, everybody.” I lifted my hand tentatively and offered a halfhearted wave. “Don’t disturb your dinner. I’m sorry I’m late.”
My aunt, who sat at the head of the table, raised a disapproving eyebrow—a gesture that had driven me crazy since childhood—and suggested I take a seat.
My cousin Kristina looked up briefly and contorted her pretty face into an uneasy smile. Then she quickly dropped her head again and studied her plate with avid interest. Though her hair was the same warm auburn as her brother’s, it was straight and reached to her waist in an impeccable ponytail. The color emphasized her brown eyes, which always seemed to be scrutinizing everything around them.
I remained standing. Although I hadn’t necessarily expected to be greeted with open arms, I hadn’t counted on such a cold greeting. I expected something more from Kristina, who had been like a sister to me when we were growing up. Lukas pulled one of the chairs back, pushed me into it, and settled down next to me. “Thank you,” I whispered as he generously filled my glass with white wine. Without alcohol, I never would have survived this gauntlet.
David sat across from me. He gave me a quick wink, then turned his attention back to his food. This gave me the opportunity to look him over. Even though he wasn’t a biological descendant of the Westphals, he fit in here better than anyone else. Even as a boy, he’d had an aristocratic charisma, which, on the one hand, had fascinated me and, on the other, had made me incredibly jealous. I was so immersed in the sight of David that I almost didn’t notice the woman sitting next to him: Valerie Jansen, the spoiled daughter of one of my uncle’s law partners. She’d been my archenemy since childhood, not only because she was David’s long-term girlfriend, but also because she was a smug bitch. With her perfectly straightened platinum-blonde hair and obligatory pearl earrings—which coordinated perfectly with her necklace and newest Louis Vuitton purse—she embodied the typical Düsseldorf law student.
My mood plummeted as she snuggled up to David with a fake smile and laid her hand on his. Disgusted, I averted my gaze and, with a shy nod, greeted Justus Mayen—Aunt Helen’s weird brother—with whom I’d exchanged maybe five words in my whole life. Uncle Justus was an art historian who taught about Baroque paintings at the university. Somehow, though, I had never been able to reconcile his austere and consistently black-clad figure with the lush images of naked, voluptuous women he lectured on.
Uncle Justus, whose short, dark-blond hair was combed in an impeccable side part, looked at me intently through his black-framed glasses. “À votre santé,” he said as he lifted his wineglass and toasted me. “Lovely that you returned to our realm.”
I lifted my glass with a jerk, shocked by Uncle Justus’s sudden and unprecedented appreciation of me, and some wine spilled on my hand. “Cheers,” I replied without betraying my nerves. “If only the circumstances of our reunion could have been more pleasant.”
“Of course,” he said, then took a small sip of wine. “I understand you’re passionate about photography. Is it possible that I’ve seen some of your work by chance?”
“Most likely not,” I answered as I tried inconspicuously to wipe the wine off my hand with a napkin. “Because I mostly photograph fashion spreads for magazines and ad campaigns.”
“Ah, so you’ve given yourself over to commerce,” Uncle Justus replied, his voice thick with sarcasm. Then he went back to cutting up his fish without further comment. Obviously, he’d lost interest in me again.
I clenched my teeth and tried to ignore Valerie’s snicker. In order to distract myself, I loaded up my plate with poached salmon and potatoes au gratin.
I could no longer bear Elisa’s presence at the table, so I bolted out of the dining room. In the foyer, I stopped indecisively in front of the antique mirror that hung over the sideboard.
My fantasies distressed me, as black and putrid as the scrawling on the walls of a public bathroom. Every attempt to forget was in vain.
The carousel of my thoughts kept turning, picking up speed. Around and around. Then suddenly it came to a screeching stop.
Silence.
Bewildered, I paused, frightened of myself. Could I no longer stand the sight of myself in the mirror? What kind of person had I become?
I tried to remember the person I had once been. Tried to evoke the image of the person I no longer was. Yet I couldn’t catch my old self; it hid behind a mask of disappointment and fear. Facing the truth, I became completely calm. I took a deep breath.
And conceived a plan.
Tired from the rich food and the company, I retreated to my room. I took my cell phone off the bureau and checked my e-mail. Only spam. I had hoped for a sign of life from my mother, whom I’d left a voice mail for before I left for Düsseldorf. She was in New Zealand with her new boyfriend, and, apparently, she didn’t have decent reception there.
Saturday
The obnoxious twittering of birds ripped me from my dreams. Furious, I buried my head under the pillow. Crap, I’d forgotten to close the window the night before. Unable to go back to sleep, I opened my eyes and sat up.
Sunshine poured through the curtains, conjuring wild patterns on the parquet. The sound of voices and clattering dishes streamed in through the open window. My relatives had evidently decided to have breakfast on the patio directly beneath my window on this sunny Saturday morning.
Yawning, I threw the blanket aside and stood up. On the way to the bathroom, I pulled my ancient Backstreet Boys T-shirt—which I now used as a nightshirt—over my head and tossed it on the bed.
I took a cold shower to wake myself up properly, standing in the icy stream for as long as I could stand it. Shivering, I reached for a huge, fluffy towel and wrapped it around myself. My short hair had one advantage—once I’d rubbed it dry and run a comb through it, I was done! After brushing my teeth and applying a few strokes of mascara, I opened the bathroom door and screamed with fright.
“Excuse me,” David said, dropping my T-shirt, which he regarded with amusement. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ripping the embarrassing T-shirt out of his hands.
“I wanted to wake you up,” David answered as he ran his hand awkwardly through his hair—an unusual gesture for him. “And to apologize for last night,” he added.
I adjusted the towel. “Why’s that? You were the only one, except for Lukas, who was happy to see me.”
“My apology was not in reference to me, but my mother.” David cleared his throat. “As well as Kristina and Justus.” His expression grew dark.
In my mind, I also added his irritating girlfriend to the list of people who had made me feel unwelcome.
“Since when do you care how people behave toward me?” I asked.
“I don’t,” he said and looked ostentatiously at his watch. “I’m going to the hospital in an hour. Do
you want to come?”
“Yes, very much.”
David nodded and left my room.
Confused by his renewed kindness, I stood there motionless for a moment. I shouldn’t get used to it, because David had deceived me before. I shook those nagging thoughts off and opened the wardrobe. I pulled out one piece of clothing after another before finally deciding on my favorite pair of frayed jeans and a white T-shirt covered with a skull-and-crossbones pattern—to provoke my aunt a little.
I mumbled a semifriendly “good morning” to everyone as I walked out onto the patio and dropped into a free wicker chair next to Lukas. My relatives returned my greeting unexpected amiability and continued with their breakfast. Except for Valerie, who acted as if I were invisible and carried on typing into her cell phone.
Lukas, a self-proclaimed grouch in the morning, got me a cup of coffee without a word, then studied the sports section of the daily paper.
I took a croissant out of the basket and spread an abundant layer of Nutella on it, something that Uncle Justus appeared to notice. I decided to eat as much Nutella as I liked for the remainder of my stay—until I got sick.
The tense atmosphere at the breakfast table was a real delight, I can tell you. What I wouldn’t have given just then to be sitting around with my roommates in my chaotic Kreuzberg apartment. There wouldn’t have been croissants or caviar, but there would have been a lot of joking and laughing.
Lukas and David were entrenched behind their newspapers and Valerie still worked feverishly on her phone—Aunt Helen was watching her like a hawk.
I waited for her to remark on the decline in manners of today’s youth but was disappointed. Aunt Helen didn’t seem to be at her best at such an early hour. As I destroyed a second croissant with as much Nutella as possible, I listened in on an argument between Kristina—who studied art history—and Uncle Justus about the spectacular find of a long-lost painting from the Nazi period.
It seemed that every possible topic of conversation was discussed—except the fact that Uncle Matthias lay in ICU from a heart attack. I realized that the delicate topic had been intentionally avoided ever since I’d arrived. I certainly wouldn’t be the one to bring it up. Happy that no one had forced a conversation on me, I gazed out over the patio at the vast hydrangea bushes, whose flowers were as light blue as the sky.
Both cocker spaniels lurked under the table, awaiting the morsels that occasionally fell—sometimes intentionally, much to my aunt’s dismay. Lukas blatantly let a small piece of his liverwurst and bread fall next to his chair—something he did to declare Miss Marple and Miss Moneypenny his favorites at the breakfast table.
It was a deceptive idyll, I knew, but I still couldn’t put my finger on precisely what was bothering me.
On the way to the hospital, I tried several times to start a conversation with David but was sabotaged by his monosyllabic answers. The closer we got to the hospital, the more restless I became. That day six years ago—when my life changed forever—played again and again, like a film, in my mind’s eye.
It had happened on a hot afternoon at the end of May. I was spending the day with Lukas and Kristina at a nearby lake. We were just staging a cannonball contest from the jetty into the pond, when David drove his old Alfa Romeo at high speed down the gravel path toward the bank and braked so suddenly that stones sprayed everywhere.
Kristina and Lukas didn’t pay any attention to him, because David generally drove like the last executioner and ignored traffic regulations. But when I saw David’s pale face, it was immediately clear to me that something had happened. A shiver ran down my back. I took my towel and, weak in the knees, approached the convertible.
Slowly, David opened the car door and got out with stiff movements. “Elisa,” he coughed, seemingly unable to find the right words. “I don’t know how . . .” His voice broke off.
I couldn’t make out a word. Something truly terrible must have happened.
He ran his hand nervously through his hair, mussing his otherwise perfect style. I grasped his other hand and squeezed it to encourage him.
David took a deep breath. “Your parents . . . they’ve been in a bad car accident,” he stammered. “They were taken to Elisabeth Hospital.”
Though I heard his words, they didn’t make sense. They couldn’t be true. I looked into David’s beautiful face. He seemed to still be talking to me, because his mouth was moving, but I didn’t grasp a single word. A static hiss started in my ears. I let go of his hand and noticed how my other hand shook. But I couldn’t budge. David grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me gently. He spoke more loudly.
Lukas and Kristina came running and wanted to know what was going on. Kristina burst into tears as David told them about the accident.
I was freezing. The water dripped off my wet hair and ran down my body. A flurry of activity broke out around me. Lukas and Kristina ran to the jetty to get dressed. David picked up my towel and wrapped me in it. It smelled like grass and suntan lotion. “Elisa, did you understand what I just said?”
I nodded.
He rubbed my upper arms to warm me up. “I’ll drive you to the hospital now, okay?”
Kristina came running up and handed me my clothes and my sneakers, which I put on awkwardly. As I packed up, I heard David instruct his half sister to go home on her bike and wait there for Uncle Matthias and Aunt Helen, who had decided to come home from Frankfurt.
I lowered myself into the passenger seat of the two-seater and fished around for the seat belt so that I had something to clasp with my trembling fingers. Lukas and Kristina hopped on their bikes, gave a short wave, then disappeared out of view.
David put the car in reverse and backed down the narrow gravel path until he could turn around. His right arm rested on the back of my headrest, and he’d turned his head to look behind the car, his eyes squinting against the sun.
I stared as though spellbound at his face, which was just inches from my own. Even though we’d grown up together and saw each other every day, I never grew tired of studying him. That afternoon, I concentrated on David frantically in an effort not to think about what was awaiting me at the hospital. I didn’t want to believe it.
My long hair fluttered in the wind as we reached the road. I observed the speedometer needle as it climbed higher and higher, indicating a speed well past the limit.
“Elisa.”
I looked at David. I’d been so caught up in my memories that I hadn’t even noticed that we’d arrived at the hospital. “Elisa,” David repeated my name, looking worried. “Is everything okay?”
Slowly, I shook my head. I was having a terrifying type of déjà vu: once again, David was driving me to Elisabeth Hospital where one of my relatives lay in the ICU. I wiped my damp hands on my jeans and tried to take a deep breath.
“You don’t have to come up, if you don’t want to,” he said.
“I have to enter a hospital again sometime. I can’t chicken out forever.”
David cautiously laid his hand on mine. “My dad certainly understands your fear.”
I took a deep breath. “I can manage.”
David squeezed my hand.
As we entered the foyer, I noticed the smell right away—the acrid disinfectant used by every hospital, mixed with the scent of tasteless cafeteria food. It was the same in every hospital I’d ever been in.
We hurried through the halls, moving quickly to avoid evoking any memories. But as we reached ICU, my steps slowed. Everything in me struggled against going through the door—the last time I’d stepped through it had been six years ago.
Without looking at me, David took my hand and continued on resolutely, until we reached Uncle Matthias’s room. We stopped in front of the closed door. “Ready?” David looked at me. Apparently, he was more worried about my reaction than I was.
In order to convince him that I was okay, I let go of hi
s hand, pushed the handle down, and entered the room first. I went over to the bed, which was surrounded by blinking machines that monitored every bodily function.
I held my breath as I studied the motionless form. Uncle Matthias seemed to be asleep. Two thin breathing hoses were hooked up to his nose and several electrodes were stuck to his naked chest to monitor his heart rate.
David entered behind me and calmly laid his hand on my shoulder. But the nervous breakdown I’d been expecting failed to materialize. I was fortunate to be prepared this time. I’d had two days to prepare myself for this moment. Besides, Uncle Matthias’s condition was not as bad as my father’s had been; he’d fallen into a coma after the accident and never recovered.
I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and looked into my uncle’s sunken face. There was more gray mixed into his auburn hair than there had been the last time I’d seen him, and he had a few more wrinkles. He was nonetheless still attractive for a sixty-two-year-old man. There was a reason my aunt suspiciously eyed every woman that got near him.
When I went to stroke him on the cheek, he opened his eyes. He looked at me, clearly surprised to see me. His greeting only confused me: “Hannah!” He grasped for my hand, resolved to hold it. “You’re finally here.”
I tried to correct him. “Uncle Matthias, it’s me, Elisa. Hannah’s daughter.”
Uncle Matthias looked at me in amazement and whispered emphatically, “Hannah,” as he squeezed my hand even tighter.
The machine next to his bed that measured his heart rate went off suddenly and blinked an aggressive red.
David pulled me away from the bed and took my place. He pushed his stepfather gently back onto the pillow as he tried to sit up. “Dad, you have to calm down!”
But Uncle Matthias struggled desperately, uttering my mother’s name several more times.
David turned to me with a baffled expression on his face. “Please leave, Elisa,” he said and pushed the emergency button. “You seem to have upset him.”
Shuttered Life Page 2