We're Flying (12 page)

Johanna felt guilty when she cleared Manfred’s desk, even though he had been dead for seven years now. But she would have to do it sooner or later. She needed the room for Felicitas, who sometimes came to stay for a day or two. Thus far, the little girl had slept in her bed with her, but now she was six, and it seemed to Johanna that she needed her own bed and somewhere to keep her things.

The top drawer was full of the stuff that had been so endlessly fascinating to Adrian when he was a boy. Sometimes Manfred had set him on his lap and pulled one thing after another out of the drawer and told him its story: the Red Sox baseball he had bought during his first trip to America, the Lapland knife, the papier-mâché elephant, a slide rule, a broken pocket watch. Some of these items dated back to Manfred’s childhood, others Johanna knew where they came from and what they had signified to Manfred. She held each item in her hand a long time, unable to decide what to keep and what to throw away. Finally she put everything back in the drawer and shut it again. She would ask Adrian if he wanted any of it. She didn’t need any of it herself, those things only made her sad.

In the second drawer were files of all sorts of documents, office furniture catalogs and instructions, old papers of no sentimental value that Johanna unhesitatingly
threw in the recycling. In one of the folders there were a few issues of a 1970s magazine. On one cover was a black woman with an Afro hairstyle and pointy breasts. Johanna flicked through them. She was surprised by the innocence of the pictures, even though she was bothered by the fact that Manfred had hidden their existence from her. When she hoisted the empty files from the drawer and dumped them in a garbage bag, a bundle of letters slipped out and fell to the floor. Johanna picked it up and pulled off the rubber band that held it together. There were perhaps twenty small envelopes, addressed to Manfred’s office in an attractive hand. The letters had been sent within the space of a single year, the date on the cancellation stamp was perhaps thirty years old. Johanna hesitated, then she took one of the letters out of its envelope and began to read.

ADRIAN DIDN’T HAVE
much time. When Johanna opened the door, he was in the process of saying good-bye to Felicitas. He greeted his mother perfunctorily and said Iris was waiting in the car. We won’t be that late, he said. She can stay the night if you like, said Johanna, I’ve cleared out the office. You’ve got your own room now, she said to Felicitas, who had taken her hand and was beaming
at her. Is that really OK? asked Adrian. Come to breakfast tomorrow, said Johanna, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Thanks, said Adrian, and kissed his mother on the cheek. He stroked Felicitas’s head and said, See you tomorrow, sweetie. You can stay here yourselves if you like, Johanna added, but Adrian said over his shoulder, going down the stairs, he would rather go home, thanks all the same.

When Felicitas was in bed, she started to ask her grandmother about her grandfather. She always tried anything not to have to go to sleep. Johanna had often told her what a good man Grandfather was, and how he had helped lots of people, but on this occasion she was curt, she didn’t feel like thinking about Manfred now. Why did he die? Felicitas asked. We all have to die, said Johanna, he smoked too much. My papa smokes too much as well, Felicitas said. Does everyone die if they smoke too much? If you’re unlucky, said Johanna. Your grandfather’s in heaven. I don’t think he can see us. A little while ago, Felicitas’s guinea pig had died, and now she was picturing it up in heaven along with her grandfather, a vision that was clearly too much for her. Go to sleep now, said Johanna, and sweet dreams.

In the morning they were speaking about something else, but when Felicitas caught sight of a photo of her
grandfather on the sideboard, she asked if that was taken in heaven. No, said Johanna, that was in Italy, in Tuscany, where we were on vacation. You’ve been there too, remember, with your mama and papa last year. I don’t remember, said Felicitas. It seemed to make her sad. And there followed another round of questions about heaven that Johanna couldn’t answer. No one knows what it looks like. No one has ever come back from there. It’s farther away than the stars. Yes, she said, I’m going to go to heaven as well, and so will your papa and mama, and you too.

At breakfast Felicitas started again. Grandfather’s in heaven, she said, and I’m going to go to heaven too. Iris looked at her mother-in-law critically. Adrian didn’t say anything, it still wasn’t possible to talk to him about his father’s death, even though the two of them hadn’t been close. I’m going to go to heaven too, Felicitas said again. Sure you will, said Iris, but there’s plenty of time until then. Then she wanted to leave, and Johanna only had a moment in which to show Adrian Manfred’s things. She watched his face, and for a moment saw a boyish joy that suddenly was extinguished. He took out the slide rule and slid the scales along each other. I’ve never understood the principle of these, he said. Look, Felicitas, this is how people used to do calculations before there were computers. Do you want any of it? asked Johanna. Adrian
hesitated. We’ve got so much stuff already, Iris said. What about the watch? asked Johanna. It doesn’t work, said Adrian. Johanna felt disappointed, even though she herself didn’t want to keep any of it either. She accompanied them out to the car. Iris put Felicitas in her car seat. Adrian hadn’t got in yet. Are you all right? he asked. I’ve been a bit tired recently, said Johanna, I’m not sleeping well. Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to me about? he asked. She said it wasn’t urgent, later when he had time. Call me, he said.

Johanna called Hedwig, the secretary, and they met at a cafe. Johanna got a shock when she saw Hedwig. She had stopped dyeing her hair, and she was in flat shoes and glasses. She couldn’t deal with the contact lenses anymore, she said. The two women had nothing to say to each other—they never had. Manfred’s office had been a world of its own, Johanna had never had anything to do with it. Manfred hardly ever brought his work home with him. When Johanna asked him about it, he would gesture dismissively and say, Oh, the usual. Sometimes she would pick him up from the office and caught him seeing out a client or bantering with Hedwig, and each time she thought he was an utter stranger. He seemed different there from the way he was at home, more decisive, more humorous, more alive. It was this man who had got those
letters, and written others whose content Johanna could only guess at, from the replies of his mistress.
Your last letter made me blush. Your erotic fantasies turned me on. I think about you all the time
. Johanna had meant to ask Hedwig about the woman, but she couldn’t now, she would have felt too ashamed. And would his secretary know anyway? Johanna couldn’t imagine that Manfred would have let her into the secret of his double life. In fact she couldn’t imagine the double life itself.

She only went to the cemetery out of a sense of duty. When she tended his grave before, she had felt very close to Manfred. Now it was as though he really was dead, as though the bond between them had torn, the connection that had lasted beyond his death. It occurred to her to track down Manfred’s mistress and demand the return of his letters, so as to undo the deception. But it was all such a long time ago, and the woman had signed using her first name only. And what difference would it have made to destroy those relics? In the end it hardly mattered who Monica was. Perhaps she was one of many. Johanna thought of one of Manfred’s clients, the manager of a restaurant where they sometimes ate. She had cried at the funeral, at the time Johanna hadn’t thought anything of it, but now she was suspicious. Many of Manfred’s woman clients had gone to the funeral.

She had meant to talk about all this with Adrian, but when he next called, she didn’t say anything about it. She tried to persuade herself it was that she didn’t want to damage his image of his father. Privately, though, she knew that it wasn’t his father he might lose respect for, but herself, the injured party. She tried to think of someone else she could take into her confidence, but there was no one. The neighbors were out of the question, and most of the other people she knew in the village she had met through Manfred. He had grown up here, and knew everyone, man and woman. Because she had been his wife, she was still greeted by many people today in the street, but she wasn’t on friendly terms with any of them. Once, a couple of years ago now, she had taken an Italian course, but the others there were all much younger than she was, and when it was over, the group split up. She thought of the man who had taught the course, who wasn’t a local. They had got along well together, but what was she going to say to him? He probably wouldn’t even remember who she was.

ON HIS FORTIETH BIRTHDAY
Adrian threw a big party. For all my friends, he said, and he asked his mother if she would look after Felicitas. Johanna was there from the
afternoon on, and played with her granddaughter while Iris and Adrian made salads. The party was to be held in the garden. The weather was being a bit unpredictable, and at the last moment Adrian had a big tent set up in the garden, in case it rained. The guests started arriving at six, work colleagues of Adrian’s and old school friends whom Johanna hadn’t seen in twenty years, but whom she immediately identified. Back then, she had been on easy terms with all of them, and it felt a little weird to her to be formal. Felicitas had gone off somewhere with some other kids. Johanna had followed them, but had quickly seen she wasn’t welcome. She went back out to the garden. Adrian was busy over the grill, Iris was welcoming the new arrivals and introducing them, if they didn’t know each other. Johanna stood on the fringes with a fixed smile on her face. She didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want anyone to see how unhappy she felt.

Clouds had filled the sky, it looked as though it could start raining any minute. The meat’s ready, called Adrian, and a line of people formed in front of the grill. Johanna went inside to get the children, then sat down with them at their junior table and tried to keep them vaguely under control. From time to time one or another of the parents would go up to the table and ask if everything was all right. One young woman remained
standing behind a rather quiet toddler, laid her hand on his head, and asked him if he wasn’t tired yet. Only then did she seem to notice Johanna. She extended her hand and said, Why, how are you, we haven’t seen each other in ages. Johanna hesitated. Eva, said the young woman, I used to wear my hair longer. Now Johanna remembered. Eva had done an internship at the same time as Adrian, and for a while the two of them had been an item. She and Manfred had been fond of the girl, and both were disappointed when one day Adrian announced that they had broken up. He hadn’t given a reason, and Johanna hadn’t asked him for one either. Of course, now I remember, she said. And this is your little boy? Yes, this is Jan. Johanna took the little boy’s hand in hers. He looked at her rather rigidly. And who’s your daddy? she asked. Eva said she and Jan’s father weren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, said Johanna. Eva laughed and said, I’m not!

The older children had jumped up and run over to the sideboard, where Iris was serving dessert. The little ones followed them. Eva picked up Jan, but he wriggled so hard that she had to put him down and let him run after the others. I think they can look after themselves, said Eva. Wouldn’t you like to come and sit with us?

After dessert, Johanna put Felicitas to bed. As she came back down the stairs, she saw Eva standing in the
hallway, jiggling a stroller. It’s started raining, said Eva in a hushed voice. I think he’s gone to sleep.

Shall I turn the light off? Johanna whispered.

There’s no need, said Eva, once he’s asleep, it’s not easy to wake him. She turned on the baby monitor and put the microphone next to the stroller.

But then, instead of going back out to the garden, she went into the kitchen, and, not bothering to switch on a light, took one of the empty champagne glasses that were standing around and filled it at the faucet. Johanna had followed her and said, Hang on, I’ll get you a clean glass, but Eva had already drunk from hers. Even so, Johanna took a glass from the cabinet and filled it, and stood there rather cluelessly until Eva took it from her and set it down on the side.

God, I’m so tired, Eva said, running her fingers through her hair. Man problems.

Johanna was silent. She wasn’t sure what the young woman expected from her. Well, time will tell, she said, and she sat down at the kitchen table.

Eva laughed. You never know, she said. He’s married, I’ll spare you the rest … I’ve heard it so many times, and now it’s happened to me. At least he was open with me from the start.

Her lover was a German teacher, like herself. They had met at a teachers’ refresher course and fallen in love
immediately. But he had two children, and wasn’t prepared to leave his wife. He’s afraid he’ll lose the children, said Eva, and anyway his marriage seems to be OK. It’s such a wonderfully banal story. Johanna didn’t say anything, and Eva carried on. Her lover lived in Lucerne, maybe that was an advantage, the fact that they didn’t see each other that often. They met every couple of weeks. He visited her, she didn’t know what he told his wife, and she didn’t want to know, either. For a weekend at a time they lived together like man and wife, and then he went back to his family. Eva laughed. It’s peculiar, I’m not even jealous of his wife.

If his marriage is OK, said Johanna, then what makes him into an adulterer?

Eva shrugged her shoulders. Do you think it’s immoral? I tell myself it’s his responsibility, she said, after all he’s the one who’s cheating on his wife. Do you think I should get rid of him?

But that wasn’t the question that interested Johanna. What sort of person is he? she asked. Does he talk about his family with you? What do you talk about?

He’s a perfectly normal guy, said Eva, he doesn’t talk about his family much. That’s fine by me, it’s none of my business.

But is that normal? asked Johanna, more vehemently than she meant to. Is it normal for a man to have a mistress? Surely it can’t be?