Sea Air (15 page)

“You make it sound like it’s a lot easier to succeed in other cities,” Marco observed.

Mathis cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t say that it’s any easier in other cities. But when a project fails here . . . Like I said, maybe it’s just because I was raised here, but when things fall apart in this city, it hurts twice as bad.”

I
want to go to the circus this weekend.” Paula ran to the drawer to get a spoon and then joined me in tackling a huge bowl of rice pudding.

“I go to the circus every day,” I deadpanned.

“Really? Why don’t you ever take me?” Paula sounded outraged.

“It was a joke, Paula.”

“It wasn’t funny at all,” she pointed out.

“Okay, what does the circus have?”

“You know, clowns and monkeys and camels and stuff.”

I had to grin. I’ve got all that nearly every day, too.

“Is Anneke going?”

“I don’t know. But I want to go to the circus with her. You never do stuff like that with me.” It was true: lately, Paula had been getting the short end of the stick.

“You’re totally right. I promise we’ll go this weekend.”

“Hurray!” Paula cried. Unfortunately, her mouth was full of rice pudding. As I went to grab a dish towel, the phone rang.

“Do you know who got married?” my mother said.

“I have no idea, Mother, and I really don’t care.”

“Heiner Nass!” my mother cried.

“I see.”

“What do you mean, I see? Nele, you could have had him!” she cried. “He was such a wonderful guy, so stylish, always in a suit and trench coat, and those trousers with a crease. All of our friends were jealous when you were dating him. And what did you do? You sent him away. You didn’t appreciate what you had, Nele. Now look what happened. Another friend has stolen him, right under your nose!”

“It didn’t happen right under my nose, exactly.”

“See there, you’re sorry now! It serves you right. Are you crying?”

“Why would I be crying?”

“And do you know who he’s marrying?
Anna Treber.
She’s going to hyphenate: Anna Treber-Nass. Heiner is very open-minded and progressive.”

“Since when are double names progressive? People have been using them for decades.”

“A hyphenated name would suit you, Nele.”

“Well, too bad. But maybe if my architect and I—”

“Oh, how’s Paula doing?”

“Paula!” I called to my daughter, “Grandma wants to speak with you.” Paula came rushing over. Before she tore my phone out of my hand, I gave my mother my most heartfelt congratulations to pass on to the bride and groom.

After the circus on Saturday, Paula and Anneke announced that one day they would work at the circus, too.

“Speaking of work,” Sandra said to me, “how was your meeting with the man of your dreams? I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about it yet. Are you still in shock, or is your heartache long behind you?”

“It’s not behind me yet.” Exhausted, I fumbled for my car keys. Once we joined a long line of cars headed toward the city center, I told her in a few short sentences about the meeting. The third time I said Mathis’s name, Paula jumped in.

“Hey, Momma, Mathis is going to be my new daddy.”

Horrified, I glanced at Paula in the rearview mirror, then looked over at Sandra. Had she somehow given the kids this idea? Sandra shrugged.

“What makes you think that?” I looked at Paula in the mirror again.

“Anneke says when a woman wants to be alone with a man, it means she’s in love with him. You wanted to be alone with Mathis and made us all go away. And Juliane said when people are in love, they get married. And if you’re going to marry Mathis, then he’ll be my new daddy. That’s what Jessica said. And Benedikt—”

“Is there anybody in your class who doesn’t know about Mathis?” I asked.

“I think Caroline was sick that day,” Anneke said.

“Yes,” Paula agreed. “She had diarrhea. Hey, Momma? Did Mathis put his penis in your vagina?”

I slammed on the brake out of shock, making people in the car behind us swear out the window at me. I didn’t give a shit. Sandra was trying to keep the girls from seeing her laugh. This hadn’t come from her.

“Where did you learn about all this?” I tried to focus on the road.

“Juliane says grown-ups do that when they’re in love. I think it sounds gross.”

“You know what else is gross?” asked Anneke. She made her nauseated-looking face. “When someone puts their tongue down your throat. It’s
so
disgusting! Benedikt and I tried it once and—”

“You what?” Sandra spun around in her seat.

At this exact moment, we arrived home. The girls sprang out of the car and ran to the yard, obviously done with this subject.

“
Aaaaaagh
!” Sandra shook her whole body like a wet dog. “I know what I’m doing tomorrow.”

“What’s that?”

“Buying a book on how to talk to kids about sex.”

I nodded my approval. I needed a strong cup of coffee.

“Christoph has been in such a good mood since you started this project,” said Sandra. “He thinks a lot of Mathis.”

“I know. Marco does, too.”

“Do you?” Sandra gave me a wary look.

“He’s brilliant at his work, I’ll admit that. I think we’ll be a good team.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. If only I knew where all of this was leading.”

“You’ll find a guy one of these days, Nele.”

“Maybe, but right now I can’t imagine finding one anywhere nearly as interesting as Mathis. There’s no one quite like him.”

“Everyone seems to be in agreement on that. I’m the only one who doesn’t know him yet. I feel like a hick from the sticks, not knowing this guy that everyone’s so in love with. How about we invite him over?”

“Very funny. The rest of you can socialize with Mathis while I eat my heart out. Sounds like a blast.”

“Look, Nele . . .”

“Can we just change the subject? I have to see Mathis at work. Beyond that, I’ll do my best to avoid him. If Marco and Christoph want to make him their new best friend, they’re welcome to. But leave me out of it.”

Sandra tried again. “But at some point—”

“At
some point
—maybe in a hundred years—I’m sure I’ll be ready to see Mathis in a social setting. Until then, I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“Fair enough. By the way, Marco and Ines have invited us over to their party next Saturday. Ines called me yesterday, and they’re going to invite you, too. I thought I’d give you the heads-up.”

“And we’re definitely going?” I said.

“Oh, we’re going.”

“That’s right.” A light bulb went off in my head. “Ines’s birthday. What should we get her?”

“I don’t know. What do women want when they’re pregnant, besides sour pickles?”

“I never ate sour pickles when I was pregnant. Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe something practical. Maybe . . . a case of sour pickles?”

Sandra and I deliberated for a while but nothing came to us, so we decided to go into the city center the next day and look for something pretty.

Ines’s birthday party promised to be a fun night. Parties at Marco and Ines’s were famous for being a good time. We made arrangements for Paula and Anneke to stay at their friend Juliane’s house, and I decided to enjoy the evening to the fullest. When would I ever again have a whole night free?

“You’re looking fresh and lively tonight,” Christoph said, as he picked me up to drive me to the party. “The men are going to be all over you.”

“I hope not. I want to have fun,” I said.

“Oops. Let me just get my foot out of my mouth. I still like your new dress.”

He probably would have said that about any dress I wore, because he only ever saw me in slacks. Christoph loved feminine styles and favored anything but pants.

“You’re wearing a dress!” said Sandra when we got to the car.

“You like it?” I spun around once.

“It’s made for you.”

I’d thought the same thing when I saw it in the shop window. It was a simple, sleeveless linen dress of midnight blue, with a cinched waist and a wide skirt that reached my ankles, and it fit me like a glove. I’d have bought it whatever the price.

Because the night was cool, I’d pulled on a blue-and-gray cardigan, and I was pleased with the overall effect.

When we arrived, Marco was in a good mood and he immediately came over bearing a tray loaded with glasses of champagne. I tipped one back, downing it in a single gulp. Marco gave me a wary look.

“Is something wrong or are you loading up on liquid courage preemptively?”

“Why would I need courage tonight? I’m just in a good mood.”

“Well, I figured . . .”

But I was no longer listening. I steered myself straight toward a group of people we had gone to school with, whom I hadn’t seen in some time. We greeted each other with hugs, and I was smoothing down the fabric of my dress when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hello, Nele,” said a very familiar voice. I swallowed hard and turned around slowly.

“Hi, Steffen.” I toyed with the fabric of my dress. I looked him over from head to toe, unable to help myself. As always, my ex looked fantastic—tall, broad-shouldered, and tan, with well-defined muscles.

“I came with a buddy who’s a friend of Marco’s. I thought I would see you here,” he said.

“And you still came anyway.”

“You know I’m always glad to see you, Nele. I just wish—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “No digging up the past now. Okay?”

Steffen furrowed his brow. “To tell you the truth, if it was up to me, you and I would—”

“Listen to me, Steffen,” I said in a firm voice. “You and I don’t have a future. That’s over. Okay?” I turned back to our former classmates.

“Remember that time in Africa, when we went to that hotel?” Georg shuddered, and we all cringed in agreement. We all knew exactly which place he meant. It was one that we encountered on our study trip to West Africa. The hotel had consisted of a few wooden huts grouped around a courtyard, and unusually heavy rains had turned the ground into a soggy mess of ankle-deep mud. The beds, four to each cottage, hadn’t looked that bad at first and even appeared luxurious under their drapes of mosquito netting. But we all soon realized that we were sharing our beds with something else, too—bedbugs, fleas, or mosquitoes. Probably all of the above. We itched so horribly we couldn’t even think about sleep. All night we stayed awake, plagued by itching and streaming with sweat, because—although by then it felt just fine outside—the heat from the day had become trapped in the huts.

“The frogs were especially disgusting,” I remembered, and the others nodded in agreement.

“Remember using the bathroom at night?” said one of my old friends, a petite woman named Antje. “It was somewhere behind the cabins, and there was a
ribbet
sound every time you stepped on one of these croaking critters. And when you got to the toilet it didn’t flush, which isn’t so great when people have diarrhea. I’m glad that at least we had our own toilet paper. And the shower! I wanted so badly to wash off the bugs, but only a few pathetic drops came out. That whole trip was pretty hard on us spoiled dyed-in-the-wool central Europeans. Let’s hear it for the good old days!” Antje picked up her glass and we raised ours, too, and toasted, remembering our shared trip to hell.

“In France, a person has to stand over the toilets. It’s not very comfortable, either,” a timid and awkward voice interrupted. The voice belonged to another of my fellow students, Gerd Hövenstein, who had been staring at me for a while. I wondered whether my dress was a little too provocative for people not used to seeing me like this.

“So you know what we’re talking about, Gerdi. The toilets in France—the worst. Don’t get me started.” Our well-traveled friend Georg patted Gerd on the shoulder and shook his head in sympathy while the rest of us stared into our glasses.

“Well, I’m off to the buffet,” Antje said. I decided to follow her but was distracted by someone tugging me on the sleeve. I turned, and there he was again, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks: poor, insecure Gerd Hövenstein. Even back in school he’d been an outsider, too awkward to fit in with our spirited group. He wore too-big brown corduroy pants and a powder-blue shirt. His blond hair was limp, his skin so pale it was almost transparent, and his body was flabby. Marco always invited him out of pity.

“What is it, Gerd?” I probably sounded indignant about the interruption because he flinched.

“Uh, do you want to dance?” His face turned crimson. Again. “You know, to the music?”

“Oh, if it’s to the music, no.” I turned away. God, I was mean, but I wasn’t going to let Gerd Hövenstein spoil my evening.

The rest of my ex-classmates had gathered around the delicious-looking buffet, where they were chatting and laughing. This was what I needed!

Antje and I were indulging in memories of the Caribbean, where we’d studied together for half a year, when a bit of my salmon sandwich got stuck in my throat. I suffered a terrible coughing fit as my friends pounded me on the back and held up my arms to encourage normal breathing.

“Nele, slow down. There’s enough food for everybody,” teased Georg. He handed me a glass of water and reached out to touch my cheek.

“You always did have to do everything as fast as humanly possible,” added Lutz, shaking his head. Antje asked me whether I wanted to go get some fresh air. Only one person realized the real reason for my suffering, and he stood there, studying me.

“Are you okay now?” Mathis handed me a napkin from the table so I could wipe my tears.

“With all that expert help being offered, I think you’ll be okay.” Georg looked very displeased at this.

“What are you doing here?” I said. Was I ever going to catch a break?

“It’s Ines’s birthday.”

“I know. And you thought it would be a good idea to come.”

“I was invited.”

“By whom?”

“Your dress is beautiful. You look very good in it.”

“So what?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Well, I’m not. How long are you going to be here?”

“Until I leave. How about you?”

“Longer than that.”

My old friends watched us, fascinated, but Mathis just chose a cheese scone and walked away.

“Who was that?” asked Georg.

“Nobody.”

“Well, nobody has got you looking pretty upset,” Lutz said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, if it doesn’t matter to you, then we shouldn’t care, either,” said Antje, rescuing me. “Hey, you guys, do you remember Professor Tran?” I threw her a grateful smile. I really wasn’t in the mood to discuss Mathis with a crowd. The others followed Antje’s lead, found a new line of conversation, and were soon laughing and joking again, but I was tired of the trip down memory lane. I drank down the screwdriver that Georg gave me and followed that with a glass of sparkling champagne. Feeling dizzy all of a sudden, I decided to step out on the terrace. There, I found Sandra and Ines stuffing themselves with cake and swaying back and forth on a decrepit swing. I dropped down next to them, causing the swing’s hinges to creak.