Life After Forty (5 page)

I
sat in the car and smoked two cigarettes back to back. Only then did the shaking start to fade. My emotions were all over the place. I was angry, I felt humiliated, then sad again. I wanted to scream at Bernd and kiss him—all at the same time. He hadn’t made even the smallest effort to be friendly, no word about how he was, no question about how I was doing. He hadn’t even looked at me. I had made such an effort, and for this. The thought of my red lingerie brought tears to my eyes.

Charlotte’s voice was strict.

You’re wearing that for you, just like the rest of the clothes. It’s your new life, the new Christine. Bernd doesn’t play a part in it anymore. It’s up to him to figure out how he should deal with everything. You’re shaking him off, along with your old life. Don’t let him give you the cold shoulder. Just wait—you’ll show him, and everyone else.

Edith answered.

But he’s probably driving straight to Antje’s now to go to bed with her. She doesn’t need a fancy thong.

My despair won out over my rage. I sat in my car, unable to think clearly, with no idea where I wanted to go. Charlotte helped.

You could go home, to Hamburg, go out for a meal with Dorothea or Ines, or to Marleen’s, or wherever you want. You’re free to do whatever you want, you look great, the weather’s lovely, and you’ve got money, so just go.

At that moment my cell rang. I fished it out of my bag, looking at the number on the display. My mother. I counted to three out loud to drive the tears from my voice, and then I picked up the call.

“So, my darling, where are you?”

“I’m in the parking lot at my tax consultant’s office. We just finished.”

“Oh yes, that was today. How did it go?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure. I’ve got all the paperwork with me, so I’ll have to take a proper look through it later.”

“And how was Bernd?”

“Strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Oh, Mom, I can’t explain that over the phone. Just strange.”

“Well, come here then. If you set off now, you’ll be here in time for coffee. I still have some cheesecake left. There are some of your clothes upstairs, the weather’s beautiful, and you could even go to dinner with Jens this evening.”

“What? Jens is there?”

“Yes, since Friday. Hanna and Klaus are getting a new heating system installed, and he’s helping them with it. I ran into him this morning at the bakery and told him everything.”

“You told him everything about what?”

“About how Bernd mutated into an asshole and that you’ve separated from him.”

“Mom!”

“I phrased it more nicely. Well, not that nicely, to be honest. Anyway, he wanted to give you a call. He’ll be happy to see you, and it’d do him good to get away from his parents’ place for an evening. Are you dressed nicely? He looked really good.”

I thought briefly of my red lingerie and turned the key in the ignition.

Three hours later I was driving over the Hindenburg Dam. The water on either side of the motorail was glistening, the sun was shining through my sunroof, and I felt happy with my decision to go to Sylt rather than back to Hamburg.

And then there was Jens.

I’d known him my whole life. His family had spent their holidays at our next-door neighbor Erna’s each year. Jens and his sister Maike had been a familiar part of our summers, along with their parents Hanna and Klaus. Ten years ago Erna had decided to sell her house and move to Denmark to be near her son. She offered it to Hanna and Klaus, who were retiring that same year. They jumped at the chance and had been our neighbors ever since, which had made us all happy and the absence of Erna easier to bear.

Jens and Maike still lived in Berlin. Jens worked in a bank, and Maike was a doctor. Both had families, and we saw each other only now and then, but we were always kept up to date on each other by our parents. I tried to remember when I’d last seen Jens. He’d celebrated his fortieth two years ago and had invited Bernd and I. We couldn’t go; I was at the book fair, and Bernd, typically, didn’t want to go to Berlin just for the day. So I’d just spoken to Jens on the phone.

It was the summer before last that I’d last seen him. Klaus was celebrating his sixty-fifth birthday, and everyone was there. It was a great party, apart from the fact that Bernd was already so drunk by ten o’clock that he had to go to bed, and Jens’s wife Silke, also drunk, had tried to hit on my brother. When Georg politely refused her advances she had started to swear, so Jens drove her home, returning an hour later embarrassed and full of apologies.

“You know, she doesn’t normally drink, so she can’t handle it.”

Georg shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Ines looked at Jens and then whispered to me, “Why did a nice guy like him marry such a dumb twit?”

I shook my head and went over to Jens. “Come on, let’s have a dance; don’t get worked up. Bernd’s tendency to drink himself into a coma isn’t that amusing either.”

We partied until four in the morning and had a great time. I hadn’t seen him since that night.

When I arrived at my parents’, my mother was standing in the front yard chatting with Hanna. They both came towards me as I got out of the car. My mother was the first to reach me, giving me a big hug.

“You’re here in good time! The coffee’s ready, and your dad’s in the yard.”

I switched into Hanna’s arms.

“Child, you’ve gotten all thin! Jens will have to feed you up properly tonight. I’ve already told him that you’re coming. He’s at the DIY shop with Klaus, but that won’t take long. I told him to pick you up afterwards.”

With some effort, I freed myself from her grasp and caught my breath.

“Thank you, Hanna. Just tell him to come whenever’s best for him; I’ll be ready.”

Hanna gave us a little wave and stepped over the low fence back into her yard. Over coffee I told my parents about the financial settlement, how the appointment had gone, about the new things I’d bought for my apartment, and about my new life in Hamburg. They were relieved that everything was going well, without them having to worry too much about me.

“You’ll figure everything out,” said my father. “Admittedly, I never thought that Bernd would turn out this way, but that can’t be helped. Just imagine, he lets you pay for his studies and the house, and then as soon as that’s all done, he looks for another woman. And one with two children to boot.”

My mother nodded. “I feel sorry for the children. What have they said about it?”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to them since Karola’s birthday. They haven’t been in touch.”

My father shook his head. “It’s disgusting. They’ve probably told them something ridiculous. No, no, I hate hearing about stories like this.”

My mother looked at me. “Are you staying as you are or changing? What you’ve got on looks great, so stay like that. I’m sure Jens will be here soon. Just brush your hair and put some perfume on.”

I finished my coffee and stood up.

“I’ll do it now; I’m just going upstairs.”

Standing in the bathroom and putting my lipstick on, I heard the garden gate bang, then the voices of Jens and my parents. I couldn’t help but smile, and I quickly wiped the traces of lipstick from my teeth.

Whenever I thought about Jens I always pictured him as an eight-year-old boy in his little blue and white striped swimming trunks. Blond and tanned.

Edith piped up.

It’s a shame you can’t fall in love with someone like that, just because his eight-year-old face always gets in the way.

But it’ll be a comfortable, nice evening. No complications or sensitivities
, answered Charlotte.

I gave myself a nod in the mirror and went out to the yard.

Jens was sat on the deck chairs with my parents. Seeing me walk over, he stood up and came towards me. He looked good. Tall, slim, short hair, which was now more gray than it was blond. He smiled at me, bent down, and kissed me on both cheeks.

“It’s about time we saw each other again. You look amazing, Christine. Short hair suits you, and that lipstick looks really good on you too.”

I held him close to me for a moment. “It’s great to see you, and you’re right, it is about time! Shall we go? Where
are
we going, by the way?”

Jens fished his car keys out of his jeans pocket.

“I’ve booked a table at Osteria in Westerland; it’s still the best Italian in the area.”

He turned around and called out to my parents, “Now, I may get her sloshed, but I’ll be sure to bring her home safely! You can trust me.”

“We do, we do.”

My father stood up and picked up a watering can. “Make sure you behave; don’t be noisy or make a mess.”

“We’ll do our best.”

I blew them a kiss.

“See you later.”

On the journey Jens told me about his week, which he’d spent renovating the boiler room with his father after the installation of the new heating system. While they were at it, they’d renovated the basement as well. The stories he told about his father, who always knew best but still did everything wrong, were so loving and funny that he soon had me crying with laughter.

“In any case, he looked around him earlier and said that we’d done a great job. He reckoned people would notice that he’d trained as a handyman when he was a young man. Christine, my father worked in a garden center for two weeks while he was studying, and after that it burned down.”

We parked up in front of the restaurant. Jens looked at me from the side and then quickly pulled the sun visor on my side down. He gestured with his head, first at my face, then at the mirror.

“Somehow your makeup was a little more in place in my memory.”

I looked at my eyes: my mascara had run, giving me black smears around them.

“Oh!” I started laughing again. “Tabea the stylist didn’t say anything about this.”

I tried to salvage my eye makeup. Jens got out, went around the car, and opened the door for me with an exaggeratedly gallant flourish.

“Come on, Mrs. Panda Bear, we’ll tuck into a few eucalyptus shoots and wash them down with a bottle of red wine.”

At the entrance we were met by the buzz of voices and the scent of garlic and cheese. A cheerful waiter led us to a table in the winter garden, where the background noise and temperature were at just the right level.

As we drank Prosecco and looked at the menus, we talked about our parents and Maike, Georg, and Ines. I felt myself relaxing in the atmosphere of the garden with its view of the sea, and in Jens’s company. I had almost forgotten that just a few hours ago I was going over the ruins of my marriage with Bernd and Hans-Hermann.

As if reading my thoughts, Jens looked at me questioningly. “Your mother told me earlier that you were sorting out the finances today. Did everything go okay?”

“I hope so. To be honest, I didn’t really concentrate during the discussion. I hate that kind of thing anyway, and on top of that, seeing Bernd…”

I briefly told him what had been discussed and the outcome. Jens listened attentively, made comments, and offered explanations from his own experience as a banker. By the time the first carafe of red wine came, along with our starters, I’d given him the short version of the events of the last months.

He looked at me compassionately. “How are you doing?”

I thought for a moment before answering.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s all fine. An apartment in Hamburg, great people around me, and summer’s just starting. Then half an hour later I’ll be sitting alone on the balcony crying my eyes out. I can’t even think about Bernd and Antje; it tears me up inside. I’m homesick for my old familiar life. In three weeks’ time my work schedule will kick off again, but until then it’s difficult to get into a routine. I have way too much time to think.”

Jens touched my hand for a moment.

“You’ve already accomplished so much. Enjoy these three weeks and use them to settle in to your new life. Give yourself time. Other people take years to get back on their feet after a separation like this; you’ve managed it in three months.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. But it still hurts.”

“I don’t know Bernd particularly well—after all, he only came with you a few times in recent years when we all met up—but somehow I never had the feeling that your relationship was a great love story. And I never thought he was a good match for you.”

I looked at Jens and thought about what he’d just said. It was strange. Bernd and I had spent twelve years together. No one had ever asked me if ours was a great love story. No one had criticized him. But now everybody was claiming they had known all along.

Before I could answer, the food arrived—along with the second carafe of wine.

Jens raised his glass.

“Here’s to you. I’m confident that everything’s going to get better for you now. Cheers, Christine, and by the way—you’ve never looked better.”

There was something in his look that confused me.

“Thanks, Jens. And now I’d like to talk about something else. How are things with you?”

He drank and put his glass down. “What is there to say? Everything’s going according to plan. The children are fine, steadily and bearably reaching puberty, my job’s okay, and with Silke…well, it’s the same as usual. She’s not the easiest person, but I’ve learned to live with that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Our relationship is often very taxing, but then it’ll get better again for a while. It depends on what mood her ladyship is in. At the moment it’s one of the demanding phases, so to be honest I was very happy to get away for a week. Tomorrow evening I’ll get back, we’ll have an argument, and then we’ll act as if everything’s fine again. As usual.”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, the daily marital madness. Take this for an example: In December Silke wanted to go skiing, somewhere in Switzerland that our friends were going to. I’ve worked in a bank for the last fifteen years. None of the department managers can take time off in December because of the end-of-year reports. She should have known that after all these years. But no, she goes ahead and books it anyway. Without cancellation insurance. So I suggested she take a friend instead. She did, but came back in a dreadful mood, saying it was an awful trip. Two weeks later our friends showed me the photos. In the middle of most of them is my lovely wife—looking like she’s having the time of her life on the slopes and in the bars. So I end up getting the cold shoulder from her until January because I apparently never show consideration for her. It’s the same with everyday things too; either I do things her way or she puts me in the doghouse.”