Greta Again! (6 page)

            Greta sat at the table, wrapped in thought. The tears didn’t want to stop. She let them come. After a few minutes a feeling of inner peace enveloped her with warmth and security. Now there was nothing else to do; nothing more to think. She was able to give herself up to the peace she felt within. Perhaps David had felt her deep dismay and had sent her a warm hug. That’s how it felt to her. She wanted to safeguard this feeling deep within her and protect it into the future. She felt rewarded, loved, and suddenly also very strong. How could this be? she asked herself. She had often gone to one or another of the occult fairs with Nathalie, and had her aura or her palm read now and again. These were experiences that caused her to smile rather than to think. Nathalie was far more open to these kinds of encounters.  It was often Nathalie, with her inner hunches, who had convinced Greta to do something. And most of the time Nathalie was right. But what Greta had just experienced was something entirely different. It came from the inside out and it felt so infinitely good.

            Greta’s stomach growled – loud. Thank heavens that she had ordered the rice pudding. She dove into the home-made meal with a healthy appetite and again felt a deep gratitude for that which the day brought her. She actually began to feel really well. Although physically she felt a little wilted and weak, she felt strength and confidence within herself. Two nuns passed by the window. The sun on their robes reflected a silvery light. Greta decided to look up the nearest church after her rice pudding so that she could light a candle, as she did from time to time when she was a child. Although her parents weren’t regular church-goers, a visit to a church and lighting a candle was a ritual that she remembered. It was always something special, something to contemplate. It was a symbol of gratitude, of love, of observance, and of prayer.

            Completely centered within herself, Greta paid for her soul food. Outside in the sun, she allowed herself to become caught up in the bustling activity of the streets and sauntered on. Very quietly she heard her inner voice whisper: See, Greta, everything happens for the best!

Chapter 7

She must have been walking for quite a while when she unexpectedly found herself in front of a small church built of old red bricks, with a heavy wooden entry door. Unmistakably a church – with a few steps to the entry door. Greta climbed up the stairs and was welcomed inside by the quiet atmosphere of the little chapel-like building. Everything within could be taken in at a glance: about twenty rows of wooden pews stretched all the way to the altar. Two worshippers sat alone on the benches. An old lady who held a rosary in her hands and a man further up front.  There were small niches on the sides with small altars inside. Just to the right there was one dedicated to Mother Mary with many candles in front. Here Greta also wanted to light her candle. The light of the candles brightened the statue of Mary and caused her face to glow.

            Something mystical always seems to radiate from churches, Greta thought.  On the whole, the church was very simply furnished. She looked at the windows: narrow and multi- colored. The light in the nave shone brightly and one could see the dust floating in the air.  The whole scene felt somewhat removed and almost as if from another world. Greta knelt down at the side altar of Mary, and as she finally chose a candle and deposited her fifty cents into the receptacle, it seemed as if her own mother was very near and images streamed into her head. It must have been sometime in the eighties: her mother with shoulder pads and she herself with a ruffled blouse. A smile flitted across her face: outfits like that looked like Mardi Gras costumes now. She could also see another church in her mind’s eye but couldn’t quite make out where it was. Maybe Italy? They often went on vacation there. Possibly Venice? The memories of Venice were closely tied to the sea and the many pigeons on St. Mark’s Square. It was trendy then to have oneself photographed with the pigeons. In one hand, one had bird food and the pigeons flocked to it; they sat on one’s arm, on one’s shoulder, on one’s head – it didn’t matter where, just so it was close to the food. Oh my, that was an awful experience for Greta. The photo that was taken at the time had a place in her parents’ photo gallery for a long time, although Greta didn’t look very happy in the snapshot. She wondered if the pigeons still played the role of “extras” on St. Mark’s Square.

            The relationship with her mother had changed in the last few years. She “grew up.” As in every mother-daughter relationship, there was friction and the stress of loosening the ties was easier some days than others. As a teenager Greta frequently had such serious fights with her mother that making up seemed impossible.  Exchanges such as: “You’re going to land in the gutter!” or “You’re totally hemming me in!” “You control every step I take,” echoed in Greta’s head.

            A real turning point between Greta and her mother was when Greta decided to apply to become a flight attendant. On the one hand, her mother thought the job was totally chic. Jetting all over the world, staying in well-known hotels and meeting great guys would be pretty easy. And then the chic uniform that the pretty women wore – very nice. On the other hand, it would be better if Greta became a doctor or a judge.  Since Greta had her diploma, she could go on to study at the university without a problem. Besides, it would be far more becoming to her, according to her mother. Yes, Greta thought. Then my mother could show off her daughter’s status even more. Status was always important to her mother. She was always very interested in what others thought and how they could be manipulated. And that was so not Greta’s world. When Greta saw the film Titanic with Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio it was as if her own mother were playing the part of Kate Winslet’s mother. It was always about keeping up appearances, following the rules, in short: position. Today Greta and her mother are more relaxed and accept one another’s routine.  In the final analysis, each had her own life. They also managed to see eye to eye and to respect one another’s individuality as adults.  At least most of the time. And when the two had trouble communicating, they opted for distance. And that was good for both of them.

            Greta lit her candle with the flame of another. Now she was really herself again.  She wanted to pack David, the young man in the article, her deep gratitude and love of life -- everything into a prayer. But she was overcome by her feelings and she couldn’t find the words. She was completely sure, however, that this Mary, at whose feet she placed the candle, knew exactly what was important to her now. Again a feeling of warmth enveloped her. She felt safe and protected. Nothing would be able to knock her down and she didn’t want the beautiful in life to be taken away only because a man went out with a chopstick-hussy and stood her up. Wrapped up in her thoughts about herself, and in her feelings of warmth, security, protection and safety, she didn’t notice the man from the front of the church moving toward the Mary altar. Greta was still kneeling in front of her candle, deep in her own thoughts, as he spoke to her:

            “You have to be an angel to be here now.”

            Startled, Greta looked up and saw Mike standing in front of her.

            This can’t be possible, can it? Am I dreaming or is this real?!”

            “W-What, it’s you?” She wasn’t able to get another word out of her mouth. She looked down again at the burning candle, then into Mary’s face, then again at Mike.  Really. He was standing in front of her. Big as life – and he offered her his hand. As in a daze, she reached out and let him pull her to her feet.

            “I had just begun to feel so well in my skin again. I had found courage and strength to face what is ahead of me and now you’re standing in front of me. I can’t grasp it. Honestly, I don’t even know if I even want to see or speak with you.”

            “Greta, it can’t be an accident that life has brought us together here again. It’s the second time this has happened to us. The first time at Olaf and Stefanie’s and now again in a church?” Mike looked around and glanced briefly across the interior of the building. “This is actually the place where I come to regain my strength. This is where I fill my tank when I feel down, when I don’t know any more . . . and then I see you in front of the statue of Mary. Honestly, even you have to admit that our being together is intended.  Do you really want to leave me standing here and not even listen to me? I didn’t do anything wrong. Believe me.”

            Greta was completely confused. She felt blown away and as if she were on remote control. Since she had too much whiskey the night before and had seen him with the chopstick-hussy, and then today had gone through an emotional roller-coaster with the story about David Rose, she didn’t know how she should behave with Mike. Here he was, in the flesh, in front of her. And now what? But he was right—it couldn’t be a coincidence to run into one another here in the church. That she couldn’t deny. What do I have to lose, she thought. He can’t hurt me; he’s already done that. If I talk to him . . .oh, what’s the difference. David Rose was cut out for completely different things.

            “Fine, Mike, yes, you are right. This really is something that I can’t explain, finding you here. Maybe we’re not supposed to understand it now. But don’t believe for a minute that I’m going to let myself be taken in by some esoteric fiddle-faddle. I’m really angry and hurt and you have no right to do that to me.  You have to thank our meeting here by chance today that I’m even speaking to you again.”

            Mike sighed, then nodded. “Greta, let’s go outside. We can take a walk along the river not far from here, in the sun. Do you want to?”

            Greta agreed and followed Mike out of the church. The sun shone down from the sky as if there were nothing bad in the world, and its warmth was like a gentle embrace. Greta reached for her cell-phone to send a message to Mona to let her know that she wouldn’t be meeting her for lunch. She didn’t tell her that she was with Mike. Mona would only worry, and Greta didn’t want her to. Mike saw Greta holding her cell-phone and asked:

            “You’re sure you didn’t get my messages?”

            “No. But I’ve not had my phone on since last evening.”

            “I don’t mean last evening. Rather my messages from during the day. There were definitely four text messages and two voicemails. I don’t understand why you didn’t receive them. Can I see your cell-phone a minute?”

            “No, not now. Whether the messages were there or not doesn’t change the situation any. You were otherwise engaged.  One couldn’t miss noticing your beautiful companion. One also couldn’t miss how much fun you were having with her. You know what, Mike? Basically I’m still so angry with you that I can’t even talk with you. I’d better go.”

            “She’s Steve’s dealer and contact in the drug world.”

            Greta was quiet; speechless again. Mike walked slowly along the river bank and she followed him. After a long pause, Mike began to talk. He described what he had found out yesterday and what was now going on with his brother, Steve.

Chapter 8

The story that Mike told Greta sounded like a film, one that Greta didn’t want to see under any circumstances.

            Steve was the lead actor. A man who, because of an accident in which he wanted to save his mother, almost lost his own life.  His mother died but he survived, a cripple because of a spinal injury. Disappointed with his life, he moved to a remote place in Jamaica to find himself again, in solitude and seclusion. Greta already knew the story up to that point. She also knew that Steve had come into contact with drugs there. In Jamaica, Steve had false friends and kept the wrong company –and now the punch line: Steve wasn’t only addicted to drugs himself, he had also become a dealer. Everything was even worse than everyone first thought. Steve confessed this to Mike yesterday. In jail. That’s where he’s expected to have to stay for a while.  If Mike and the attorney were successful in presenting the mitigating circumstances that got Steve into this mess, however, they would try to help him fight his way out somehow. The goal was first to get him to withdrawal, and then to send him to Switzerland to begin long-term therapy . But it was a long way to that point. Steve’s contact in the drug underworld was the chopstick-hussy. She wasn’t just a dealer; she knew all the important people in the scene. She was well-known almost everywhere in the city – and the police were keeping their eye on her. But they hadn’t been successful yet in getting something on her.  Without a doubt, she was getting protection. Her business sphere included, above all, the fashion and modeling world – no big surprise, thought Greta, considering her looks. She provided her clients with first access to the drugs and most of the time that was the extent of her job. As soon as it came to procuring more stuff for them, back-up guys came into play. Steve had met the chopstick-hussy through contacts in Jamaica, and as soon as Mike had gotten her telephone number from Steve, he contacted her. Their meeting took place yesterday evening. Chopstick affirmed all of the contacts but was still not guilty of anything as far as the police were concerned.  It wasn’t illegal to know people who do illegal things; one simply had to be careful not to be caught doing them oneself, she thought. And she was pretty adept at not being caught .

            “What are you going to do now?” Greta wanted to know.

            “Basically, I don’t want anything to do with Steve’s drug issues. That does nothing for my life or for me. But I can’t leave him alone – he’s my brother, even if he’s an idiot. I simply have to think that he’s sick. Because of that I want to get him into a clinic and then to Switzerland, so that he has a foundation for a worthwhile life. Although he has a physical handicap, he’ll be healthy.” Mike leaned against a guardrail and stared at the water of the flowing river. “Our father is really well-off and well-connected,” he continued, “he’s been informed and will help. Don’t ask what my father thinks about all of this. He was very strict and raised us as Christians. There were rules that we had to follow and woe be to him who didn’t abide by them. His life, but above all the accident that cost my mother her life, softened him up a little. He said good-bye to everyday business matters and the notion to become even more successful and to rake in even more money. My father will support Steve financially. That’s it. I can’t imagine how they could be there for each other mentally or physically.”