Greta Again! (7 page)

            “Mike, that’s also not your job.  I think it’s wonderful that  you have the feeling that you want to help your brother and you have the chance to do that with your father. I can understand that you want to help your brother. As far as your father and brother are concerned, I’m sure you can’t do anything at all. The relationship is between the two of them and you have your own responsibilities to take care of.  You know, it almost seems to me that the moment has arrived for your father and brother to deal with each other.  Maybe your father is being prodded by a guilty conscience. He survived the accident without any harm. Your brother is the one who is paralyzed.  Now he has drug problems too because he can’t make heads or tails out of his life.  It seems like a good time to reconcile with one another. And you’re playing the role of the active supporter, lending a helping hand. You reach in to help before the the cement dries. You’re on the spot when the shit hits the fan, when nothing else seems to work, playing the role of the fireman again, right? Just like in your job. That was the reason you had to travel to Munich so fast to see Olaf, where we saw each other again on his terrace. Am I right?

            “Yes, it sounds that way. You’re right, Greta, I’m the friend in need. That’s often been the case in my life. “

            “Just think about the cats at the farm. Even there you were the one who helped out. Do you have a helping syndrome, or do you generally need to be  . . . the savior?

            Mike hesitated. “I don’t know, Greta. I only know that I’m always really pleased when I can be there to help when a need arises. When I can help. It doesn’t matter whether it has anything to do with cats or if it has something to do with my job, to be able to come up with a solution to a client’s problems. Or even if it has to do with hauling my brother out of chaos.”

            “Where do you get the strength to do this?”

            “ Good question. I really don’t know for sure. I think the strength is simply at my disposal at the  time that I need it. I know then what I have to say and what I have to do. There’s a story that I’d like to tell you. Maybe then you’ll be better able to understand how this all began.”

            Mike was still staring at the river where some boats and large ferries were traveling by.

            “There’s a specific reason,” he finally said, “why Steve went to Jamaica. I sent him there, Greta, because I believed he would find help there. I myself spent time on the island in my early twenties. Actually, I wanted to experience wild times and to have fun on the beach and with the girls. I was just out of college and thought that now I’d let it all hang out.  In many respects, Jamaica is a popular destination, right? You can imagine: hotels with pools and action without end right on the beach. Party ‘til early morning, drink yourself unconscious, and girls everywhere. Sounds good -- at least I thought so for a brief time. After I spent three days taking part in this carousing, I was completely ready to pack it in. I wanted to pull back for a while to purge some of the alcohol and to return to my senses. It wasn’t such a great idea, but I was traveling in the hills behind the hotel, and I quickly got lost. When it got dark, I felt really weird. I must have walked for many hours and covered many miles when I saw a fire and thought to myself, thank God, it’s all over, I’ll soon be in my little bed in the hotel again. Well, I was about to be disappointed. And what I’m about to tell you now is known by only the smallest number of people. It sounds completely crazy, but it’s true and made a deep impression on me.”

            Mike turned to Greta and looked deep into her eyes. She was completely still and didn’t want to interrupt him.  She was too curious now, and had in the meantime become convinced that Mike wasn’t telling her tall tales, that he was really being totally honest. She could see it in his eyes. Mike continued  to talk and took her hand while they walked in the sun along the river-bank.

            “I found a man there who had lived in the woods for five years already and who tended to the special fire whose light I had seen.  The name of the man was Daddy Coo and he was in the middle of his trial in the process of becoming a Rastaman. A Rastaman, or simply, a “Rasta,” you know, is not what we understand him to be in the so-called civilized world – that is, someone who wears dreadlocks or Rasta hair. No, a true Rasta is a man of the spirit, of wisdom, and also a man of God. And he is one of the cultural rebels of Jamaica. Rastas carry no weapons and don’t take part in elections. There are various groups, and Daddy Coo belonged to those who required a seven-year trial to become a Rastaman. In these seven years the prospective Rasta must rid himself of everything that binds him to civilization. That means separating himself from all goods and chattels and from all people, even from his family and his own children. He must be alone and tend a fire in the forest – for seven years. During this time the fire must never go out. If it does, the Rasta must start over from the beginning. He can only nourish himself with plants, fruits, nuts, and berries. Daddy Coo had already lived alone in the woods for five years, and then I came along.”

            Mike paused again; he swallowed a few times and it seemed to Greta as if there were now many memories and feelings awakening in him. They walked together quietly until Mike again picked up where he left off.

            “I can’t tell you everything in detail now. It’s a unique story in my life. But I didn’t return to my hotel right away. I came back seven months later. Yes, you heard me right! I stayed with Daddy Coo and tended the fire together with him.”

            Greta was unable to say anything. She didn’t expect this.

            What was that? Mike spent seven months with a Rasta in the woods, ate nothing but berries and plants and kept a fire from going out? He lived there, far away from all civilization, without medical care?

            The thoughts darted back and forth in her mind like flashes of lightning. A complete whirling that she couldn’t follow any more. And then, suddenly, emptiness. It was hardly possible to make head or tail of what Mike had just told her and she didn’t know if she should believe everything that he said.  But why not? It seemed to fit together somehow. Mike could see that in her astonishment, she was unable to say anything at all. First he wasn’t at the airport; then the story about the drugs; and the model, then the church, and now the story about the Rasta. It was a little too much – in less than two whole days.

            “It’s clear to me,” he said, turning to Greta, “that everything seems a little much. But you can ask me questions ‘til your heart’s content. I have a lot of answers, but certainly not all of them. In Jamaica I learned a lot about myself and naturally also how I could survive. Organizing my strength and energy was a learning process – and to act intuitively was another. One realization among many was that wisdom is hidden all of us. We just have to rouse it and use it. Each one of us is in a position to do so. Everyone has God-given gifts and everyone has the obligation to further these gifts. I know that with Daddy Coo I learned – or rather ‘discovered’ – many things that help me today in our world. I can’t explain to you how I protected the cats from death. It simply happened. A power passes through me that I can pass on. A little mystical, isn’t it? And yet so real.”

            Greta couldn’t do anything but nod. And together they continued to stroll.

            “Well, Mike finally said, “I actually wanted Steve to go to Daddy Coo to get his help. He did go there, too. But he also found another, less helpful group of friends. And then came the drugs; Daddy Coo probably had no chance to intervene. If you’re not ready to accept this path, nothing works. I’d have to travel to Jamaica myself to speak to Daddy Coo about Steve. But I couldn’t change anything here anyway.

            They stopped walking when they got to a bridge.

            “So,” Mike said, “now you know a whole lot more about me than most people. You know why I have a so-called sixth sense and sometimes do strange things. Everything completely . . .normal, right?”

            Mike smiled at Greta, who was still very quiet.

            “Would you be interested in a piece of greasy, dripping with sauce, delicious piece of pizza? And how about an ordinary Coke on the side?”

            “Oh, yes, exactly the right choice. I think I could eat an entire family-size pizza right now,” Greta laughed.

Chapter 9

Mike and Greta devoured the pizza like two starving wolves. In the meantime, it had gotten to be late afternoon; neither of them had noticed how quickly the time passed.  The topic of conversation and the fresh air had affected them.  Afterwards, they sat quietly on a bench in the sun, which was already on the downward slope in the sky. They shared the last piece of pizza and finally had enough to eat; their energy reserves were built up again. Greta didn’t really see the sense in asking many questions. Everything still seemed so unreal. Certainly, she had received some answers. But they were definitely not the answers she had counted on.

            “Here is my cell-phone,” Greta said to Mike and handed him her mobile phone. “You see, there are no messages from you. Something really strange must have happened. Maybe you should check yours too. Were the messages really sent from yours?”

            It turned out that Mike’s messages had not been sent, and he hadn’t even noticed. Apparently he was so wrapped up in Steve’s troubles yesterday that it didn’t even come to his attention.

            “Well, I don’t mix it up with the police and the drug world every day, I guess. Honestly, I can’t put it away all that easily. That’s why I was in church. I’ve discovered again and again that a church is a real place of strength. I can meditate there, to find my center, and most of the time I can successfully focus on the essential. The peace that I find in those surroundings helps me to sort out my inner self. I can free myself from what burdens me and load up with new energy. Have you ever been in Venice? In the Basilica of St. Mark, the St. Mark’s Cathedral?”

            “Why are you talking about Venice now? Greta swallowed, startled.

            “When I was in the church I was reminded of my childhood. I was in Venice with my parents and my mother was the one who taught me about the ritual of lighting candles. In the Basilica of St. Mark. St. Mark’s Square with the many pigeons isn’t such a good memory, however.  The pigeons were really weird. There were so many. And then, of course, the obligatory photo. I think it’s still on my mother’s dresser.” Mike smiled at her and gently held her hand.

            Greta could only shake her head in astonishment. “It is really crazy how you manage to surprise me again and again. To answer your question: “Yes, I know Venice. But I haven’t been there since my childhood. Why do you ask?”

            “Because St. Mark’s Basilica is one of the most powerful centers of strength that I know. I want to show it to you.”

            “What do you mean? You’re speaking about the Venice in Italy on the Adriatic? You know, we’re pretty far away –in New York, in the United States of America. That isn’t exactly possible right now.”

            “Yes, yes Greta, I know. Listen –I’m sure I’ll be busy for a time with this drug thing and Steve. Tomorrow my father is coming into town from his country estate. He can certainly assume some of the responsibilities then. I have to be in Europe on business again next week. If all goes well, I’ll be in Munich, but have to travel to Rome afterwards. It would be really great if you could come with me. We’ll simply drive from Munich to Venice. Am I being unrealistic?!”

            “Honestly, yes. Regarding the flying part, naturally not. That’s my job and I could probably even organize a good flight for us. But I am still totally numb from everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours. You know how to keep life moving forward, don’t you?”

            Greta smiled at him. She had forgiven him everything that happened and her feelings were again on an even keel. She believed, too, that he was telling her the truth. She was still confused, however, and hadn’t figured out how everything fit together, but wanted to believe him. The story seemed so unreal and so strange that it was hard not to take it with a grain of salt.

            “You’re still going to be in town for about two days, right?”

            “Yes, Greta replied.

            “Good, I’ll try to arrange everything with my father tomorrow insofar as possible, so that Steve will be on his way to the clinic and out of jail.”

            “What makes you so sure that it will happen so quickly?”

            “My father is quite influential and can move mountains when he wants to.  He can do more than I really would like sometimes.” Mike tried to smile, but Greta could sense that there was another hidden story here that she did not want to hear yet today.

            “Okay, Mike, I’ll spend the coming days at Mona’s. I need the time to digest everything and at least to begin to understand a little. Let me hear from you when it’s convenient. Maybe we can get together before I have to fly to Munich the day after tomorrow.”

            “I promise that I’ll be in touch! I’ll also check on my sent messages. What happened yesterday shouldn’t happen again. I’d love to drink a wonderful glass of red wine with you now and already begin to tell you about Venice.” He pulled Greta close, whispered Italian words into her ear and kissed her on the nape of her neck. A hot-cold shiver ran over Greta. She hadn’t expected his gentleness nor his Italian. She tried to free herself from his embrace a little stiffly and looked at him inquiringly:

            “Non parla italiano. I don’t speak Italian. You do?!”

            “Si Bella! Carissima mia!”

Chapter 10

Greta spent the next two days in New York completely relaxed.  Mike called three or four times  per day  and she knew almost exactly every move that he made. His father had actually been able to get Steve out of jail and into a private facility where he would go through withdrawal.  A place at the Swiss institution where he was to go for therapy was already reserved, and they were planning to have Steve treated there in the coming year. Mike said he would give Greta the details the next time they got together.  She had no idea how Mike’s father was able to accomplish all of this so quickly, and that was probably good. The puzzle that was Mike’s father would surely be solved soon and there would be no more secrets.