Sea Air

by Meeringa, Jule

  “Nele. Nele Martens.”

  “A North German name, but you’re not from around here.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “A local wouldn’t spend all afternoon on the foreshore.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you would have known the importance of the red ball.”

  “You’ve got me there. What about you? What brings you here?”

  “That’s easy. I love the sea.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “I do all my living when I’m here. But my official residence and work are in central Germany.” His voice betrayed no bitterness, but his eyes were fixed on a point on the wall and his brow was furrowed.

  “Why don’t you do those things on the sea, if you love it so much?”

  “That’s a long story.”

  “Will you tell it to me?”

  “If I do, you’ll have to extend your vacation.”

  “I have no problem with that.”

  He began to explain.

  As the train cut through the quiet summer day, two children remained in their seats. Sunlight fell sharply through the compartment window, blinding six-year-old Mathis, but he dared not close the curtain. Doing so would draw the attention of the other kids, and that was the last thing he wanted. He hadn’t wanted to come on this trip at all. He would have much preferred to stay at home with his mother and his friends. “You must understand, we don’t have any choice,” Momma had told him, and Mathis knew, too, that the North Sea would be good for his brother. He, Mathis, was a big boy now and his brother needed him. He was sure they would have lots of fun up at the North Sea.

  The North Sea. Yes, that was a place he would really like to see. Mathis’s father had shown the boys pictures of the sea, enthusiastically telling them about a voyage he’d taken years ago, before he’d gone to war. Mathis was sure that he’d like the sea. But he was scared. At least Uwe was with him. They would stick together.

  He glanced over at Uwe. The younger boy slouched in his seat and stared sadly out the window. Uwe had tried to hold back his tears when they said good-bye to their mother, Mathis had noticed. Swallowing hard and biting into his apple were all that kept him from crying. Then someone had carried the sickly boy into the train and settled him on his seat. He had hardly stirred since. Mathis gathered his courage and asked, “Want to look at the atlas Anna gave us?” He was terrified. The children turned in his direction and looked at him, but he kept his eyes on his brother, determined not to let their stares bother him. Uwe’s face brightened and he nodded. Mathis opened his backpack and pulled out the atlas. It was old and ragged, but the boys treasured it and treated it gently. Their older sister won the atlas at school as a reward for high achievement and had given it to her brothers for their journey. “Now, you will never get lost,” she told them with a wink.

  Mathis sat next to Uwe, and the boys opened to the page that showed the North Sea coast. “Look, we’re going here.” Mathis pointed to the area around Cuxhaven. “Pretty big sea, right?”

  Uwe nodded approvingly. “Will we be able to go boating?”

  “Of course! I’ll be the captain.” Mathis underscored the words with a salute that touched his imaginary captain’s hat.

  “May I look, too?” A little girl with blond hair appeared in front of them. Her pale face was sprinkled with freckles, and two spindly legs poked out from under her dress.

  “Who are you?” asked Mathis, not at all convinced he wanted to share his treasure with anyone besides Uwe.

  “My name is Charlotte and my dad died in the war.”

  “Oh. Are you going to the North Sea?”

  “Yes. The doctor told me I’m too skinny and said there would be a lot of good food up there. He said I should eat as much as I can.”

  “I’m going to the North Sea to eat, too, so I’ll be strong.” Mathis grabbed his own skinny arm with his opposite hand.

  “And you?” Charlotte looked over at Uwe. “Why did someone have to carry you to the train? Can’t you walk?”

  Uwe shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s very sick,” Mathis answered for Uwe. “But Momma said the sea air will make him healthy again. Can we keep looking now?”

  Charlotte sat down next to them. For the rest of the train ride, the children were completely absorbed in the atlas, forgetting the world around them.

  At the Cuxhaven station, the train screeched to a halt as Mathis covered his ears. Hardly anyone was on the platform. A woman entered their compartment and told them, “We’re here, children. Collect your things and go out without pushing. When you get to the platform, line up in two rows. Don’t get lost. You”—she pointed to Uwe—“will be picked up immediately after the others disembark. Your brother will stay with you.” She nodded to Mathis and disappeared.

  The children climbed out of the train, one after another. Charlotte got in line last. Just before she left the train, she turned to Mathis and Uwe. “See you later. Thanks for letting me look at the atlas with you. It was great.” Then she was gone.

  The boys didn’t have to wait long before a tall, friendly-looking man approached them. “Here we go then.” He picked Uwe up in his arms. “Oh, laddie, nooo, yer no bigger than a minute! Ya need ta eat a ton o’ eggs and bacon, my boy! What do you young’uns call yerselves?”

  “I’m Mathis, and that’s my brother, Uwe.”

  The man looked Mathis over from top to bottom. “Hmm. Yer just a wee thing yerself. Don’t worry, we’ll getcha fat and sassy in no time. I’m Harm Voss, director of the children’s home. Have you ever been to the sea?”

  The boys shook their heads.

  “Well then, it’s about time. The sea makes little boys strong. I’ve seen it meself.”

  Uwe put his small head on Harm’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

  “Will you be our friend, Harm?” Mathis looked with fascination at the huge man.

  “Of course! What do ya think?”

  Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all, Mathis thought.

  Horse-drawn carriages carried the entire group to the children’s home. As they drove through the town, laughing children ran next to the coaches and called out in greeting: “Moin-moin, Happy Holiday!” Mathis was surprised. Why did they say moin when it was almost evening? At home people said moin only in the morning. Strange!

  He sat with Uwe in Harm’s carriage, which they both liked very much. Harm sang old sea shanties the whole way. Some Mathis had heard before, but most were new to him. He hummed along softly.

  “Hard starboard is the dike,” Harm shouted, pointing to the right with his riding crop. The strong winds nearly drowned out his strong voice. A flock of seagulls passed overhead, their screeches almost deafening. Mathis yelled as loud as he could to Harm, “May we see the sea, please?”

  Harm called out, “Whoa,” and signaled for the coachmen behind him to stop, too.

  “What is it?” called the woman from the train station. She ran toward them, her skirt gathered in her hands.

  “The lads want to see the sea.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  “Nah, this is the right way. Low tide, ya get my meanin’?”

  “The children have to eat. We need to keep to the plan.” Standing with her hands on her hips, she threw Harm a challenging look.

  “I doubt the sea knows that. Come on, kids. There you go.” He pointed to the steps on the dike, and the children laughed and jumped from the carriage. As soon as Mathis’s feet hit the ground, he wanted to start running. Then he saw his brother. Uwe sat on the carriage seat with blankets draped over his useless legs and tears in his eyes. Mathis couldn’t very well leave Uwe alone. He hung his head and dragged himself back. Just as his foot hit the carriage step, he felt someone pull him back by the arm. “Run now,
before the sea rushes in!” Harm punched Mathis’s shoulder gently, then picked up Uwe in his blanket and carried him toward the water.

  As quickly as his thin legs could carry him, Mathis ran up the steps after the other children. At the top, he had trouble standing. The wind was so strong it momentarily took his breath away. Then he saw it: the sea! He stood and looked at it, speechless. A lump came to his throat. “This is my home,” he told himself, and he knew it was true. He was taken by all of it: the roar of the waves, the spray, the fresh sea air, even the screeching seagulls. The scene in his father’s photos had been so still and quiet. But at the real North Sea, everything was alive. Mathis looked around to see if Uwe felt the same and saw Harm silently watching him, a knowing smile on his weather-beaten face. Uwe lay still in Harm’s arms and looked into the distance. Tears bathed his cheeks. “Always happens to me, too,” Harm told the boy. “The strong wind’s ta’ blame!”

  “Have I put you to sleep already?”

  Mathis’s words made me jump. “Not at all. I was totally caught up in your story. No one’s ever told me one so beautiful.”

  “It is quite beautiful around here.” Mathis rubbed his belly and smiled at me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  My stomach had been growling for some time, but I wouldn’t have interrupted his story for anything. Mathis ordered the fish-and-potato stew; I opted for the fish platter called Fiete. Its taste was pure heaven. We washed it all down with cold beer. While we ate, we steered away from Mathis’s story and instead talked about inconsequential things. We sat at our table for almost three hours, but nothing could have dragged me back to my rental. I felt more and more comfortable with him as the day wore on. Mathis had a pleasant, calm way about him that made me want to lean against his broad shoulder as I listened to more of his memories, but of course, I knew that wasn’t appropriate.

  He pushed his plate back. “I’m stuffed. You want some coffee?”

  “I’d love it. Maybe even a little cognac. It’s so cozy here.”

  After he’d ordered for us, he leaned back and stretched his long legs so far they reached the other end of the table. “Where did I leave off?”

  “Mathis was standing on the dike for the first time.”

  “That’s right.”

  He cleared his throat, and I listened as his calm, deep voice took me back to the past. I loved hearing how a little boy discovered his love of the sea.

  Little Mathis didn’t notice much else on the rest of the carriage ride. He was too absorbed by memories of his first encounter with the sea. He’d never known a place could be so beautiful.

  Beauty was not something he knew well. He was a child of the war. When Mathis’s father returned home after several years as a prisoner of war, he’d found his youngest son, Uwe, critically ill. Even though he was, himself, still recovering from his injuries, he searched for clinics that dispensed the penicillin Uwe needed. He finally found a clinic that could help Uwe, and he landed a job in finance in the same city. The family loaded their possessions onto their ancient tractor and drove it, over the course of many freezing days, to their new city, which they found in ruins. The damage was complete; no part of the town was untouched. When his children asked him what had happened, he answered quietly, “Bombs.” The word made Mathis’s whole body shake, and Anna started to cry.

  The tractor stopped in front of a two-story house, the only one left standing on the street.

  One child after another jumped off the tractor.

  “This is just a stop, right? We’ll keep going?” Mathis’s older brother, Jürgen, pleaded with desperate eyes. Seeing the children’s anxious faces, their father raised his hand, as if he was about to say something, then lowered it again. He looked to his wife for help. “This is our new home,” she told them quietly as Anna wiped her tear-soaked face, but Mathis found himself struggling to breathe. “This isn’t a home!” he shouted. “I won’t stay here!” He let himself fall on the cold, hard ground, which he pounded with his fists. His mother took him gently into her arms, trying to comfort him. “They will rebuild the city. You’ll see. It will be beautiful.” She lifted him up and pushed him toward the front door. Anna and Jürgen silently followed, the color drained from their faces.

  At the children’s home, the kids were shown to their dormitories. Eighteen beds stood side by side in two rows, separated only by small bedside tables. Mathis’s heart sank. The trip to the sea had started so beautifully, but now this! At home, he shared a room with Jürgen and Uwe. But so many boys in one room—how could that work?

  “Mathis Hagena?” Mathis hesitated, then turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice.

  “Are you one of the Hagena boys?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m Mathis. My brother is—”

  “Follow me, please!”

  He followed the woman up a flight of stairs, down a short hall, and through an open door into another bedroom. This one had only two beds. A table and two chairs stood beneath the window.

  “This is your new bedroom. Your doctor ordered peace and quiet for your brother, so Mr. Voss kept this room for you. Someone will bring up your bags soon. Now be a good boy and wash your hands. The bathroom is one floor down. Supper will be served in the dining room. Uwe is saving you a place.” She stopped at the door and said, “Have a pleasant stay and enjoy your holiday.” She smiled at him, and then he was alone. On an impulse, he jumped up and down and cheered, “I’m at the sea, at the sea, at the sea!” Then he hurried off to supper, because he suddenly felt famished.

  After the meal, Harm Voss carried Uwe upstairs and settled him on his bed. Mathis followed. The setting sun cast light into their room and he felt it on his nose as he entered. He ran to the window and climbed on one of the chairs. Could he see the ocean from here? He pulled aside the curtain. Yes!

  “Uwe, look, it’s the North Sea! You can see it! And all the way back there, a tall tower in the middle of the sea! Can people climb on it, Harm?”

  Harm carried Uwe in his arms to the window. Uwe pointed at the table. “Can I sit here?” he asked, and Harm carefully set him down.

  “That’s the Neuwerk Lighthouse,” Harm explained.

  “A real lighthouse?” Mathis was thrilled. Beacons guided ships in the harbor, his father had told him that much. He knew that the light turned in all directions, so that people could see it from anywhere, and so ships would not run aground and their passengers would not drown.

  “Does somebody live there?” Uwe looked at Harm.

  “The lighthouse keeper lives there.”

  “I wish I was a lighthouse keeper!” Uwe rubbed his nose the way he always did when he was considering something. “How does he get food to eat? Does he catch fish?”

  Harm laughed. “No, laddie, he doesn’t catch fish. At low tide, someone with a carriage or tractor brings food to him and to the other people who live at Neuwerk.”

  “Do they all live in the lighthouse?”

  “No. Neuwerk is an island. There are houses there, and people live in those, too.”

  “An island. Can we go there sometime?”

  “Maybe.”

  The boys had millions of questions for Harm about the world of the sea. But Harm insisted that they go to bed. He assured them that there was plenty of time to get to know the area. He tucked the children in, wished them a good night, and left them alone.

  “Uwe,” Mathis said, “I think Momma was right. We’re going to have fun here.”

  Uwe didn’t answer. Mathis looked over at him. Uwe had already fallen asleep. “I will never go to sleep here,” swore Mathis. Then his eyes closed.

  Mathis’s hearty yawn shook me free of my dream world.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Story-telling makes me tired.” He took a gulp of beer. “And thirsty!” He folded his hands over his none-too-slim stomach and looked over at me. “Well?”r />
  The urge to yawn washed over me, and I covered my mouth with my hands. We both started laughing.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “Message received. We’d better start walking home. Onno would like to go home sometime soon.” I followed his look to the cashier. The owner stood with arms crossed, grinning at us.

  “We’re the last ones!” I said in surprise. It appeared that all the other customers had left.

  “I believe you’re right.” Mathis looked at his watch. “It’s twelve thirty.”

  “Twelve thirty?” I was shocked.

  “Why, is someone waiting for you?” Mathis spoke quietly, but I saw his body tense up.

  “No. I’m here alone.”

  An awkward pause was finally, mercifully, broken by a cough from behind the counter.

  “Where are you staying? Come on, I’ll take you home.” Mathis paid as we left. Onno said, “Good-bye. Moin,” and then closed the door behind us.

  Outside, the world was quiet. The rain was past and the wind had subsided. I was terribly cold, but the fresh air felt good and I drew it deep into my lungs. In the distance was the roar of the sea. We walked side by side in silence, each of us engrossed in our own thoughts. When we reached my apartment, Mathis took my hands in his and looked deeply into my eyes. Feeling confused, I averted them and immediately regretted it.

  “What ended up happening with Mathis and Uwe?”

  “Are you really interested?”

  I looked at him without saying a word.

  “Meet me for breakfast tomorrow at The Starfish. Ten a.m.”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Sleep well.”

  “You do the same. Thank you for the beautiful evening.” And Mathis disappeared into the night.

  I woke up just as it turned light outside and tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. Finally, I got up, took a chocolate bar out of the fridge and nibbled at it while lying in bed. That sometimes did the trick, but not this time. Maybe some TV? I clicked past dozens of programs but they all looked boring. Finally, I gave up and turned it off, turning my thoughts to one thing that didn’t bore me.