Sea Air

by Meeringa, Jule

  “This is really stupid,” Paula noted sternly. “You don’t even have a present for him.”

  “No, Anneke, it’s not your dad’s birthday,” Mathis said. “We’re just celebrating some good news we got at work.”

  “Dad said to Momma the other day that he’s pissed off because they’re going to take away his job,” said Anneke as she twisted a huge clump of spaghetti onto her fork. “I wasn’t supposed to be listening but I heard them when I went to the bathroom. Momma said she’s earning money with the Heinrich books, and Dad said, ‘Oh be quiet’ or something.” Anneke pushed her overflowing fork into her mouth, which ended her ability to talk for a while.

  “Men! There’s a bit of macho in all of them,” I noted.

  “Is macho something bad, Momma? Does it hurt if you poke somebody with it?”

  “Sometimes it hurts in a good way,” I replied as Mathis shot me a wicked grin.

  “Why?” Paula wasn’t going to drop it.

  “What your Momma means is that some men don’t feel comfortable with their wives being the main breadwinners,” Mathis said.

  “Just like us. Momma goes to work and you cook.”

  I laughed at the puzzled look on Mathis’s face.

  “Something like that, I suppose.” Mathis turned his attention back to his meal.

  “My mom works at home, and I think she deserves more money than my dad,” piped in Anneke. “Anyway, Grandma says she does. But Dad thinks that’s stupid.”

  It sounded like there was a pretty heated discussion going on at the Wiegandt household. I made a mental note to invite Sandra over for coffee soon. Lately I hadn’t invested enough time in our friendship, and she’d been under a huge amount of stress since Christoph had received his bad news. It was too bad everyone couldn’t have a relationship that ran as smoothly as Mathis’s and mine, I thought. I beamed at him.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Quite a lot, my darling,” I said. “Let’s talk about it as soon as the kids go to bed.”

  “So, what are we doing for summer vacation?” I asked as I snuggled close to Mathis in bed.

  “Let’s see. I’m going to Rügen for two weeks and—”

  “And Paula and I are coming with you!” I cried.

  “And I’m taking my boys.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed hard. If he took his sons, then we couldn’t go with him. Mathis had told me that they were afraid we’d take him away from them, and they didn’t want anything to do with us. It was a shame, but I had to accept it.

  “After that, I have to go to Stockholm for a week.”

  “Stockholm?” I felt confused. This was new.

  “Yes, to an architects’ convention. I’m very excited about it.”

  “I see. And, you’re going alone there, too.”

  “I’m taking my business partner. There would be nothing for you and Paula to do there. I’ll be busy all day and all night.”

  “We could stay for three weeks.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t be gone for that long. But I’m sure I could clear away one week.”

  I fell back against my pillow. Only one week.

  “You’re mad,” Mathis said. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Disappointed.”

  “It’s hard being involved with a family man.”

  A long silence fell between us.

  “Are you familiar with Sweden?” Mathis asked abruptly.

  “No, I’ve never been there.”

  “It’s incredibly beautiful, especially in the summer: panoramic landscapes, huge lakes, and wide-open spaces—and moose, of course.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I just thought it would be nice if you came after the convention, for let’s say one week or ten days, and we could explore the countryside together. It would be the first week of August, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Of course I can make that work,” I said, though I was still disappointed we’d be vacationing for such a short time. Plus I’d always wanted to go to Sweden. “Mathis, you’re a sweetheart!” I kissed his cheek.

  “It won’t be a conflict with Marco’s vacation plans?”

  “No, they’re going to stay home this year since Ines doesn’t want to travel with a newborn. It won’t make any difference to Marco when I go. He said they’ll go someplace later in the year.”

  “Then that works out perfectly. We’ll need to book a place to stay. That might not be easy on such short notice but I’m sure it can be done. I’ll ask Ms. Brenner to do the research. She always manages to find something, even when everyone else says it’s impossible.”

  “And when will you be in Rügen?”

  “The first two weeks after school lets out for the summer.”

  “That’s pretty soon.” My heart sank at the thought of being separated from Mathis for three whole weeks. “Will you be coming back here between your trips to Rügen and Stockholm?”

  “No, it’ll be easiest for me to take the ferry from Rügen. The boys will meet me with the car.” Mathis turned to me and, as if he’d guessed my thoughts, added in a tender voice, “Don’t think this will be easy for me—not seeing you and not touching you for three long weeks.” He stroked my stomach gently. “We’ve already wasted too much time being apart—completely my fault, of course—but we can’t do anything about it, so there’s no sense dwelling on it. A short separation will just make the time we do have together even sweeter, my love.”

  He kissed my stomach and then jumped out of bed. “Unfortunately, I have to go now. It’s Malte’s birthday tomorrow and I have to finish setting up for his birthday party.”

  When he pulled the door closed behind him, I let out a long sigh. Family man indeed!

  The new kindergarten year is short approximately two hundred seats for children three years old and under, and the municipal youth department reports that demand has increased by 3 percent. It is unfortunate that the coalition still can’t agree on the terms for constructing an additional day care facility. Although plans for a day care center on Larchen Way have been completed for nearly a year, implementation of the plan is still awaiting approval. Mr. Schlüter, director of the building department, indicated that, “dialogue is still ongoing” and expressed confidence that an agreement would soon be reached. “Given the current budgetary situation, people need to understand that priority is given to those projects that are most urgent.” He added with a laugh, “Above all, the cherished female part of the population must be given . . .”

  Shaking my head, I set aside the newspaper. “The cherished female part of the population,” indeed. Who did he think he was? And “dialogue is still ongoing”? Hardly. Since the previous summer, four such talks had taken place, and all of them had been dominated by party politics, name-calling, stubbornness, and—machismo. In our area, conservative attitudes were still widespread, and women were expected to prioritize their lives around children, the kitchen, and the church, more or less in that order. Anyone acquainted with the primary decision makers’ wives, however, knew that these men made their most offensive statements only behind closed doors. The press depicted them as fighters for equality between the sexes, a stance that was better not only for their reputations, but for their continued health, making it possible at least for them to go home at night. The offensive remark attributed to Mr. Schlüter would not, I felt sure—and with some satisfaction—be without consequences.

  As expected, all these meetings had ended in still more delays. I had long since relinquished this part of our work to Marco, who had better nerves for it. If I’d gone to these meetings, too, I probably would have felt the need to scratch the eyes out of all the worthy gentlemen present.

  I decided to save the rest of the paper and turn my attention to more urgent matters, so I put my legs on my desk and began to read my newly purchased
travel guide for Sweden. I was working my way through Stockholm’s city center when the phone rang.

  “I don’t want to be disturbed,” I started to tell Vera, but I sat up straight when I heard who was calling: Eva-Maria Katthaus, the head of women’s affairs for our city. I’d heard a lot about her and had even attended one of her lectures. The woman was a force of nature, and all the stuffed shirts with mother complexes were terrified of her. I wondered what she could possibly want from me.

  “Put her through!” I cried.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Katthaus.” I tried to calm my voice.

  “Ms. Martens, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Her voice was deep and resonant.

  “Not at all. How can I help you?”

  “You’ve read the paper today, I assume?”

  “Of course. Or . . . at least part of it.”

  “Then you saw the article about the day care.”

  Aha, I thought, so that’s the way the wind is blowing. This could be exciting!

  “Yes, I’ve read that horrible article. It made me terribly upset.”

  “You’re not the only one. Our phone lines have been jammed all morning by calls from loud, furious mothers.”

  The people were finally waking up to what was going on, I realized. Have fun, Mr. Director of the Building Department! I thought with glee.

  “I can imagine,” I said. “How can I help?”

  “I was told that some meetings were happening. I hoped you could give me a brief description of the topics and outcome. I’m thinking about inviting myself to one of these sessions, if you know what I mean.”

  This is getting better and better! I thought. “I absolutely understand what you mean, and it would be my pleasure to tell you everything I know about what happened. I should explain first that although my colleague attended, I haven’t been at the few last meetings myself, and I’m sure you’ll understand why . . .”

  I spoke for about fifteen minutes and felt myself becoming increasingly angry the more I explained. Ms. Katthaus interrupted occasionally to ask a question, but otherwise listened patiently. “This is all very interesting, Ms. Martens. I do believe I need to get involved with this issue. I wouldn’t be surprised if construction started before the end of the year.”

  “That would be good news indeed.”

  She thanked me for my time, but not before telling me, “And Ms. Martens? This conversation never took place.”

  “What conversation?” Laughing, I hung up the phone and rubbed my hands together. Get ready, boys, I thought. ’Cause your butts are about to get spanked.

  I grinned and, kicking my legs back up on the desk, continued to plot my route through Stockholm.

  Once the summer holidays arrived, it was time to say good-bye to Mathis. I tried not to take it so hard, reminding myself that after all we’d be apart for only three weeks and then take a wonderful vacation together afterward. Only with the utmost effort did I manage to hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes.

  “So long, my darling. I’ll see you in three weeks, in Stockholm.”

  I just nodded and hugged him closer.

  “Oh, Nele, I miss you already.”

  “I already miss you, too,” I whispered, and we lost ourselves in a final kiss.

  “Don’t forget me, sweetheart,” he said, then he winked at me and climbed into his car. He waved once more, and then he was gone.

  I trudged back into the house, a deep emptiness swelling up within me. I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I told myself it was silly to get so worked up over a three-week separation, but I knew this was about more than the three weeks. I was with Mathis now, just as I’d wanted to be, but he didn’t really belong to me. He still belonged to his family, and this fact defined his life—and, by extension, mine.

  I had no idea what to do about the situation. I could send him packing, or I could force him to decide between his family and me—or I could accept things as they were. The first two options would both result in me losing him completely. I was quite sure that if forced into a decision, he would choose his family—nothing else would square with his conscience. If I wanted to have him as much as was possible—for a few hours here and there, and for a joint holiday trip—I’d have to keep my mouth shut and accept the way things were. I’d already thought plenty about how to resolve the situation more satisfactorily, and here I was racking my brain again. But no amount of pondering had helped. I might as well just accept it.

  “Are you sad, Momma?” Paula slipped into the living room, sat next to me on the sofa, and put her little arms around my neck.

  “Only a little, sweetheart. And it’ll just be for a little while.”

  “Is it because Mathis is gone?”

  “Yes, but it’s really silly to be sad about that. He won’t be gone long and after that we’ll meet him in Sweden and have a great vacation together.”

  Paula nodded.

  “Mathis isn’t my new dad, is he?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, if he were my new daddy, then he’d come live with us. But he doesn’t, he just comes to visit.”

  “Sometimes he sleeps here.”

  “Anneke does that, too. And it’s still just a visit.”

  Even Paula had noticed that Mathis’s and my relationship was different than other people’s, I realized. Children noticed more than we grown-ups thought. I took her in my arms and patted her hair.

  “Would you like it if Mathis lived here?”

  “Only if he doesn’t sleep with you in the same bed.”

  “When people love each other very much, they sleep in the same bed.”

  “I love you very much, too, and I can’t sleep with you in the same bed.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “Well . . . it doesn’t make any difference why,” I said, dodging her question, “because like you said, Mathis doesn’t live here. We don’t need to worry about it.”

  “Do you want to play with me?”

  “I think that’s a great idea. What would you like to play?”

  “Parcheesi. It’s so much fun!”

  “And fun is good, right?”

  “Right!”

  Every day my mood got worse, I missed Mathis so much. To distract myself, I took plenty of day trips with Paula, and Sandra and Anneke often joined us. From the start of school vacation, the weather was kind to us, the sun shining brightly from a clear blue sky as we rode our bikes through the countryside. Hungry and drenched with sweat, we would finally stop at a lake, cool ourselves off in the water, and enjoy a big picnic in a shady spot. During this period, Paula blossomed right before my eyes, and I became painfully aware that between the daily grinds of my job, running the household, and other obligations, I’d made too little time for her.

  One day, Paula stormed into my home office, her cheeks bright red. Normally I would have been upset with her for bursting in like that, but now I was grateful for every single distraction. Instead of working, I was lost in my depression again, and I needed something to stop the downward spiral.

  “You know what?” Paula tugged at my T-shirt.

  “No,” I said, sounding gloomy.

  “The City Festival is coming this weekend, Juliane just told me. It’s got rides and carousels and stuff.”

  “And?”

  “Juliane asked if I could go with her. Oh, please, Momma, may I?” Paula looked at me with eyes so desperate; you’d have thought her survival depended on her going.

  “Oh, Paula, you know I can’t stand those huge festivals. There’s always a weird crowd at those things, and everywhere you turn you’re getting bumped into by drunks, and you end up getting rained on—”

  “Please, Momma! I’ve never gone to the City Festival, and anyway—you don’t have to go along. Juliane’s mother said
she’d take me.”

  “All right,” I said at last. “If it means that much to you. But only for two hours on Friday afternoon, okay?” I hoped that maybe the festival wouldn’t be quite as chaotic before the night crowds hit.

  “Thank you, Momma! I’ll call Juliane and tell her!”

  A few minutes later, she came back into my office, her expression dark. “Juliane can’t go on Friday, she wants to go on Sunday.” Tears welled in Paula’s eyes.

  “Okay, sweetheart, we’ll go. Maybe Anneke would like to come with us.”

  Paula hugged my neck tightly and I called Sandra. We decided that I would go alone with the children, because Sandra was anxious about her new Heinrich book’s deadline—one that she was behind on and in serious danger of missing.

  Until the very last minute, I hoped for a long hard rain, so we’d have to cancel our trip to the City Festival. But by the time we were set to pick up Anneke, not even the tiniest cloud had appeared in the sky. Sighing, I surrendered to the inevitable, pulled the bikes out of the basement, and rode with the girls to the festival grounds, only to find that another of my hopes had been dashed: the place was packed. Clumps of people pushed toward the concession stands, the lines in front of the merry-go-round had become a dangerous crush of bodies, and the ticket line stretched so far it seemed not to have an end.

  To my dismay, the girls insisted on riding the bumper cars. I’d always had a healthy respect for bumper cars, because every time I sat in one as a child, I wound up hitting my lip or getting a huge bump on my head. Usually, I left this ride to festivalgoers who were less interested in entertainment and more interested in finding an outlet for their frustrations.

  I tried unsuccessfully to dissuade Paula and Anneke from their plan, but they whined and moaned until I finally gave in. We were standing at the end of the line when I suddenly felt a warm breath on my cheek and heard a quiet “Hello, Nele” whispered into my ear. Automatically, my body felt both hot and cold. I took a deep breath to collect myself, then turned around.

  “Hi, Steffen. So you’re here, too?” I even managed a little smile.