Sandra took my arm. “I’m sorry, but seriously—what the hell is going on? I thought you were having the vacation of a lifetime.”
“I was, but—”
“Oh, crap. He made you unhappy. This . . . what’s his name?”
“Mathis.”
“Mathis. Ooh, I do like that name. It’s . . . never mind. What happened? What did this jerk do to you?”
“Oh, Sandra! It hurts so much!” Instead of spilling my story, I burst into tears.
My trip back from the North Sea had been a nightmare. It was a miracle that I’d made it home in one piece. Unwilling to stay in the place where Mathis had left me one second longer than necessary, I drove home that same night, speeding down the highway like a madwoman, as if I could somehow escape from myself. But here I was, still stuck being me. I lay on my bed the whole day, staring at the ceiling until I heard the doorbell and Paula’s excited voice. I got up unwillingly, afraid that my daughter would notice something was wrong. After giving me a little hug, she barely saw my halfhearted attempt at a bright smile, because she was so intent on taking Anneke out to the yard to play. Noting my condition with a critical eye, Christoph left us alone with the bags, and now I sat beside Sandra, crying, because I knew I would never ever be happy again.
“It’s okay to cry,” she assured me. “I’m going to get you a little cognac. It sounds like you need it.” Looking worried, Sandra poured me some.
“Drink up.” She thrust the generously filled glass at me.
“Thanks.” I emptied half the glass in one gulp and felt a little better immediately. I began to pour out my story. Sandra listened attentively without interrupting even once, only mouthing a silent “Wow” when I started to tell her about my sailing trip with Mathis.
“And you really don’t think he planned all this ahead of time, Nele?” she asked. “Maybe he only wanted a quick adventure with someone, and then . . . hasta la vista.”
“No, Sandra. I think he really loved me.”
“He better have.”
“What difference does it make? Either way, it’s over.”
“If he really loves you, and that’s not just something you’re telling yourself in order to feel better . . .”
“I would know if I was just trying to make myself feel better!” I said.
“I suppose you would. So, if he really loves you, and you love him, then go get him!”
“He told me not to contact him.”
“I’m sure it’s easier for him that way. But if you ask me, he still owes you an explanation.”
“He has no intention of giving me an explanation,” I said.
“If it were me, Nele—”
“But it’s not.” I immediately regretted my sharp tone. None of this was Sandra’s fault. She was only trying to help. “I’m sorry,” I said, and in that moment, I knew what I had to do. “I’ll just forget him, Sandra. He clearly doesn’t want to be with me.” It felt like the right thing to do. I would push every thought of him out of my mind. I’d wavered in my resolve never to let a man back in my life, but that’s just because I was on vacation. Going alone had been a terrible idea. Next time I was taking Paula with me. No man would even take a second look at a woman with a child.
“I’m sure that’s for the best.” Sandra gave me a smile of encouragement, but her look seemed to say, You don’t even believe that yourself. “In that case, let’s get a pizza and a big bottle of red wine and drink to the future.” She grabbed the phone and called in an order. I didn’t feel much like eating, but if I was going to get over Mathis, I couldn’t just starve myself.
“Okay,” I mumbled. Just then, Christoph came in the door, beaming.
“Look what Sandra bought for her parents, Nele. She’s told you about her dad’s model yacht collection, right? She figured that this would be the perfect . . .” This was too much for my broken heart. The model looked exactly like our Spieker! My best intentions about forgetting Mathis flew right out the window, and I threw myself onto the sofa and sobbed.
“What did I . . . ?” Christoph gave his wife a helpless look.
“Idiot.” She came over to the couch to comfort me.
We ate our pizza in silence.
“Guess who’s getting married!”
“Who?” I answered my mother. As usual, she’d called at the most inconvenient moment, just as I was trying to comb through Paula’s tangle of curls. After her vacation, she looked like Bob Marley. “I didn’t want to comb it, and Anneke said it looked cool,” was all she had to say about the mess. I threatened to cut it all off, but that didn’t scare her. She knew how much I loved her hair. That was a consequence that would have hurt me more than her, and Paula knew it.
“Silvia Blankenstein!” my mother announced.
“Good for her.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
What, for God’s sake, did she want me to say? I knew what my mother was getting at. Silvia Blankenstein had been one of the least attractive girls at our school. “Freak,” the girls called her, rather unoriginally, and now my mother wanted to make sure I knew even she had found a guy.
“I hope they’ll be happy.”
“Nele. Silvia Blankenstein. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, honestly, Nele, if she can get a man—”
“I already have one,” I said without thinking.
“You have a man? Nele, that’s wonderful! Oh, Emilie will be thrilled!” Emilie was my mother’s best friend. Once Emilie knew something, the whole city knew it. “Tell me everything! What does he do, and what do his parents do?”
“He’s a sixty-year-old architect, married with three children. I’m pretty sure his parents are dead.”
“Oh!”
“You still want to tell Emilie?”
“Oh, Nele, relax. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You and Dad will just love him, I’m sure. Why don’t you come over and meet him on Sunday?”
“Oh . . . Sunday? I’m afraid . . . I’m sorry, that’s not a good day for us. Nele, does this man live with you now?”
“Mother, he’s married! How can he possibly live with me? But he stays overnight a lot.”
“How . . . uh, nice for you.”
“How about you? Are you and Dad doing okay?”
“Oh, we’re fine. It’s just your father and his sciatica. The same old thing. How’s Paula?”
“Her sciatica is fine.”
“That’s good.” She’d already tuned me out, as usual.
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“Who?”
“Your granddaughter. Paula.”
“Oh, yes. Let me say hello.”
Paula pressed the phone to her ear and endured one of my mother’s rambling monologues about herself. “Grandma, I already went on vacation!” Paula said. “No, I was in Rügen with Anneke.” There was a pause. “No, Momma wasn’t with us. She was somewhere else and she didn’t even get to have a picnic.” Another pause. “No, not the architect. She was with Knut.”
My mother had no idea that Knut was a stuffed moose. But thanks to Paula, she probably wouldn’t ever ask about my love life again. Knut the Moose. How perfect!
“Grandma said good-bye.”
At least that was one problem solved.
I hated to go back to the office the next day, but there was no avoiding it. The documents had piled up on my desk while I was gone. At least, I thought with resignation, I’ve got work to distract me. With a sigh, I dug into the stacks on my desk. I was amazed by how much useless paperwork had piled up in two weeks. Why hadn’t Vera sorted all this out? As I put a stack of it in my in-box, one item caught my eye: an invitation to participate in a panel discussion. I wondered why my name was on the invitation. Speaking engagements were usually Marco�
�s department.
The door opened and Vera entered. “Hi, Nele, how was your vacation? Where’s your tan?”
“Hi, Vera. Is Marco in?”
“Nope, he had to go to the mayor’s office.”
“What’s he doing there?” I was interrupted by the telephone and was surprised to hear the voice of the director of the building department.
“Hello, Mr. Schlüter,” I said as Vera left.
“Hello, Ms. Martens. I’m glad I reached you. I have an idea that I think will interest you. It concerns the vacant lot on Nelken Way. You know the one?”
“I’m familiar with it.”
“Yes, right. We’d like you to find out whether we can build a day care center on this lot. The town owns the land.”
I quickly put my hand firmly over the phone’s mouthpiece and groaned loudly. Vera’s and Marco’s faces peered around my doorframe, looking worried.
I mouthed silently, “Schlüter!”
“Ms. Martens? What do you think of the idea?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s perfect, isn’t it? I can’t believe that I didn’t think of this sooner. Better late than never. Ha-ha!”
“What about the day care center on Larchen Way?” I kept my tone neutral.
“Larchen Way? Oh, no. Bad location. Terrible.”
“Revisiting that project would be very advantageous for us. The plans are already completed, and we could serve the waiting lists for the day care center much faster than we could if we start over.”
“Oh, I don’t think the situation is that urgent. Nelken Way will do nicely. I’d like to start the planning process right away. Let’s start with an informal brainstorming session right after I get back from vacation, in four weeks. Actually . . . My schedule is looking pretty full. I couldn’t possible meet before six weeks. Will that work for you? I realize it’s rather short notice.”
“Hang on a moment. Let me see if I can move around some appointments.” I grabbed the top sheet on my notepad and rustled it loudly. “I’m afraid that may not be possible. Unless . . . yes, in six weeks, on Wednesday, I have one meeting I can move. Will ten o’clock work for you?”
“Ten’s perfect. How lucky that we can both make it work!”
“Have a nice vacation, Mr. Schlüter.”
“Thanks. Don’t work too hard while I’m gone. Ha-ha.”
I laid the receiver in its cradle and took a deep breath. I could not keep doing this.
“Hi, Nele. How was your holiday, sweetie?” Marco came over and kissed me on the cheek.
“Very relaxing. It was . . . Shit, that’s not true. Honestly, I’m more stressed out than when I left.”
“What happened?”
“It started out wonderfully, but then . . .” Memories of Mathis brought tears to my eyes.
Marco gave me a worried look. “You’re feeling pretty bad, aren’t you? You aren’t looking that great, either. Let’s go get a cappuccino at Alfonso and you can tell me all about it.”
I nodded and grabbed my bag.
“What did Mr. Schlüter want?” asked Marco as we made our way to the street. “From your reaction, I’m guessing it wasn’t anything good.”
“He wants to build a day care center. On Nelken Way.”
“That’s original.”
“He was very proud of the idea.”
“Because he’s the first one to suggest Nelken Way. At least, so far.”
“Why did you go see the mayor?”
“He wants to build a day care center. On Rosen Street.”
“Of course he does.”
Alfonso was the best Italian café in the city, and it was packed as usual. It always amazed me how many people could lounge around for so long on a workday, although I did it, too. Marco and I squeezed through the crowd to a miraculously free table. A waitress came over and cleared away the dirty dishes, then took our order.
“So, who’s the jerk who crossed you this time?”
“How do you know he was a jerk?”
“Because only a jerk could make such a beautiful woman look so terribly sad.”
“A jerk. That’s what Sandra called him, too.”
“And what do you call him?”
“Mathis.”
“So, what did he do to the woman of my dreams?”
I smiled at Marco. We both knew I wasn’t the woman of his dreams, because that role was already taken by Ines, the mother of his son and a good friend of mine. Ines was petite with a pretty face framed by brown curls. Everyone knew Marco idolized her and hadn’t looked at another woman since the day he met her. This had caused not a few girls to fall into despair. Marco wasn’t conventionally handsome. But with his mop of curly black hair and his boyish charm, he’d been one of the most popular guys at the university. He could have had any girl he wanted, but he’d only had eyes for Ines. And that hadn’t changed.
Like Sandra, Marco listened to my whole story without interruption. As I spoke, he watched me with his dark eyes and nodded in encouragement.
“It sounds to me like this Mathis must really love you,” he said when I finished. That was the last thing I expected him to say.
“Why would you say that?” Mathis was still just a jerk as far as I was concerned.
“I’m a man.”
“What does that mean?”
“I take back what I said earlier. He’s not a jerk. Everything he’s done says that he loves you.”
“Well, men have a nice way of showing it. You want to explain your reasoning to me?” I felt totally confused. I much preferred it when people called Mathis a jerk. I hoped that if I heard that often enough, eventually I would believe it. And I needed to believe it.
“He’s protecting you, Nele. I don’t know from what. But it’s clear that he’s trying to protect you.”
“Me? More like he’s protecting himself.”
“Maybe he’s doing that, too. But this is about protecting you. I’m sure of that.”
“You’re not making this any easier for me.”
“Sorry, I thought you wanted to know what I really thought.” He gave me a look of exaggerated indignation. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Of course I do. So what do I do now?”
“If you can find out what he’s protecting you from, then you can decide whether you even want this protection. He might be right. If he’s not, then go after him.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be. Think it over.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
I searched for a way to change the subject. I needed time to think all this over.
“Hey, I meant to ask you. Why did I get that invitation to the discussion panel and not you?”
“I thought you might find it interesting.” Mercifully, Marco let the change of subject pass without comment.
“But if I understood it correctly, it was an invitation to be on the panel.”
“Exactly.”
“But I’ve never done anything like that before!”
“That’s exactly the point, Nele. It’s time to push yourself. The panel will be discussing renewable energy in urban redevelopment. Right up your alley.”
“But you’re much better at speaking than I am.” I had no desire to engage in a debate with experts on a public stage. The very idea made my forehead break out in a sweat. But I knew that Marco would not allow himself to be dissuaded this time. He’d made it his personal mission to get me known. He knew I was shy and that I didn’t believe in myself as much as others did. Maybe he was right. Maybe if I pushed myself I’d get over my stage fright. But I wasn’t sure I even wanted that. I liked being left alone to do my work.
“This is your area of expertise, Nele,” Marco insisted, just as I’d feared. “This time I’m not letting
you chicken out.”
“Fine, I’ll do it.” If our company was going to get more contracts, I really didn’t have a choice. Maybe this would even lead to more private sector jobs, and then I wouldn’t have to subject myself to the whims of mayors or directors of building departments . . .
“I’m proud of you,” Marcus told me.
“I know you are.”
I even felt proud of myself.
That night I lay awake thinking about my conversation with Marco. Why was he so convinced that Mathis really loved me? More importantly, why did he think that Mathis was protecting me from something? I searched my memory for clues, reflecting on all that he’d said about his job, his family, and his life. I remembered the stories he’d told me, the looks he’d given me, the way he’d smiled. And those nights! Yes, he loved me. Marco was right about that. This had never been a game for Mathis. He was an architect, not an actor. But, protect me? No matter how hard I thought, no answer came. It was a question that only one person could answer, and I probably wouldn’t ever see that person again. Maybe he’ll leave an explanation in his will, I thought with bitterness. I pictured myself like a character in a movie, standing by the North Sea, my face pale and tear-streaked, with his farewell letter in hand and the little harmonica, which he’d left to me. I imagined myself charged with the honor and responsibility of scattering his ashes at sea. Overwhelmed with sadness and pity for myself, I began to cry again. Why was I so unlucky? Why were Mathis and I both so unlucky? In my mind, we were the greatest love since Romeo and Juliet. “Oh, I love you so much, Mathis,” I whispered. Then I fell asleep. But my sailor followed me into my dreams.
Why do you look so funny?”
Paula’s words startled me out of my trance. “What do you mean, I look funny?”
She stood in front of me giving me a critical look, her head tilted. “You just look funny, that’s all. The way you look all the time now.”
Poor Paula. I’d been almost completely useless since my vacation. Of course, she’d noticed. Worse, since I’d been back I had yelled at her a couple of times for no reason. She began to cry. I felt like the most horrible parent in the world. How could I have taken out my frustration on my own child?
“Are you still mad that I went on vacation with Anneke?”
Sea Air Page 10