Life After Forty (14 page)

My heart pounded as I sank slowly into the red chair.

“I’d like that.”

“I had quite a bad day today, and that’s not supposed to be an excuse, but an explanation perhaps. Anyway, I was sitting in my apartment earlier, in a bad mood, and then when the telephone rang I thought it would just be more hassle. And when I heard your voice I was so pleased that I couldn’t get a hold of myself quick enough. I’m sorry.”

“Oh well, I wasn’t exactly the epitome of wit either. It’s just that you seemed so abrupt, and I wasn’t expecting that.”

Richard answered quickly. “I really didn’t want to be like that, completely the opposite in fact. I was just unsure, you know? You’re worked up, you want to be completely charming and say witty things, but then you just listen to yourself while you botch up the whole conversation.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

I started to tremble, but I wasn’t sure if I was nervous or cold. Richard heard it in my voice and said, “You were sleeping, weren’t you? Are you still in the mood to chat?”

I was. I fetched my woolen blanket and cigarettes and snuggled up in the red chair with them.

And suddenly, the conversation just flowed. We picked up where we’d left off in Berlin six years ago. I told Richard about the last few months, beginning with the phone call from Bernd and ending with the red chair. He asked questions, and I answered. He started sentences, and I ended them. I asked him how he was, and he told me about the fights with Sabine, his second wife, about their arguments, power struggles, reconciliations, and resignations. Richard’s marriage was becoming more and more of a façade, and he was becoming more and more indifferent to it. On top of that was his lack of interest in continuing to work as a lawyer for the TV station in Berlin.

“And then two years ago I met up with an old colleague from my studies. He had taken over a law practice in Bremen, wanted to specialize in media law and was looking for a partner. I thought it was a great idea. Sabine didn’t waste any time in saying she didn’t want to move to Bremen, so she stayed in Berlin, and I moved into a small apartment in Schwachhausen. I’ve got a great job and some peace and quiet during the week. It’s better like this.”

We spoke for over two hours. When I went to bed afterwards, my soul felt caressed.

Leonie was shaking my lounger. I opened my eyes and saw her looking down at me.

“Oh, Christine, that was really good. What’s up? Were you asleep? You look like you were in another world.”

I nodded briefly, stretched, and said, “Yes, I was just gone for a moment. Shall we go back to the sauna again?”

Leonie already had her towel over her arm. “Yes, right away. Come on, get that tired body of yours up.”

The sauna was full this time, so we couldn’t chat. Leonie discreetly observed the others in there and then shut her eyes.

I let my thoughts wander back to Richard.

After our first conversation we had spoken on the phone eight times over the last two weeks. Each conversation lasted at least an hour. I was surprised at how many things we found to talk about. Richard asked me all about my job, told me about his, and found it all fascinating. I told him about my booksellers and colleagues; he explained the basics of media law to me and described the cases he was working on.

We talked about books. He was a keen reader and let me recommend some to him, asking which Bremen bookstore he should get one of them from. Three days later he proudly told me the plot; he had read all through the night.

I felt like I’d known him for years, and the desire to meet up with him became stronger and stronger.

Charlotte was overjoyed; Edith kept silent. My anticipation for our phone conversations got me through the days. We didn’t talk about Sabine. I didn’t dare to ask whether he went back to Berlin every weekend and still carried on with his marriage in spite of everything. He talked about the difficult years that had gone by, but never about what was happening now.

I suppressed my questions and thoughts and decided just to let things take their course.

Leonie sat up and switched seats. I sat down next to her. She smiled at me and then looked down at her red painted toenails. I felt a twinge of guilt for not telling her about Richard. She would have been happy, just for the fact that I was thinking about a man again. But I wasn’t even sure what was going on yet. She looked at the hourglass and gestured with her head towards the door. We nodded to each other and went out to take a cold shower. Leonie didn’t pick up on our conversation from before her massage again. We kept to more general topics; the sauna was full by now, and we were never alone.

After our second sauna trip, we had our usual post-sauna beers in the small bistro near the changing rooms. Leonie looked relaxed and content. She raised her glass.

“Just like being on vacation. That was great. Where are you off to tomorrow?”

I tried to keep my facial expression neutral. “I’m going to Bremen. I’ve got four appointments.”

Leonie took a sip and wiped the foam from her mouth.

“That’s fine. You’ll be home early then.”

“Yes,” I said. And I thought,
Sorry, Leonie, but it’s only a little white lie.

That evening I packed my paperwork together and took my small travel bag from the cupboard. As I looked through my clothes and tried to decide what to wear, my excitement grew more and more. I sat on the bed and looked at the empty bag.

In our last phone conversation Richard had suddenly asked, “When will you next be in Bremen?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

His answer came after a short pause.

“Then we should meet up.”

Images jumped into my head. Berlin. His face. The kiss. The hotel. His apartment.

Edith piped up.
You’ve never stayed overnight in Bremen; that’s ridiculous. You could be home within the hour.

Charlotte answered.
You’re going out for dinner with him, so see how you feel. You won’t want to go home, for sure.

Richard asked, “Shall I book you a hotel room? There’s a hotel nearby that I sometimes put my clients up in. Then you can have a drink and you won’t have to drive back to Hamburg at night.”

I was relieved. “Thank you.”

His voice betrayed a smile. “Great.” He gave me the address.

“I’ll pick you up from there at seven p.m., and then we’ll have a lovely evening. Sound good?”

“Wonderful.”

Which is exactly how I felt.

I looked for the new blouse that I’d bought with Dorothea in Eppendorf. She had convinced me to go for it; I’d thought the neckline was too low. Tonight though, it seemed fine, so I packed it. Along with my red lingerie.

Lying in my bed and pulling the image of Richard’s face from my memory, I felt my stage fright. David Cassidy, I thought, and smiled.

Edith shook her head disapprovingly.

Charlotte whispered,
Tomorrow.

I felt very happy.

I
t was Saturday evening, ten p.m. There had been a severe weather warning in the news; the fall storm that was sweeping over the north was supposed to get up to wind speeds of around 160 kilometers per hour.

It was the evening before my fortieth birthday.

I’d turned down Dorothea’s suggestion of seeing the day in with a party, and I was instead sitting alone in my apartment, having pulled all the plugs from their sockets and lit two candles. With a mixture of fear and fascination, I watched the destruction the storm was causing outside my house.

On the table in front of me lay one of those women’s magazines that are aimed at women over forty. I’d never had any interest in them; so far they’d had as little to do with me as those mind, body, and spirit or dog magazines. Yesterday Nina had brought a copy along to our squash game and had given it to me, laughing.

“Here, Christine, just so you know how you’ll feel the day after tomorrow.”

I was baffled, but thanked her politely and took the magazine.

Now, I leafed through the pages and still felt that it wasn’t aimed at me. I wasn’t planning on separating after twenty years of marriage, nor did I have problems with a pubescent daughter, nor was my boss twenty years younger than me. Menopause was another key topic, as well as facelifts, but none of it applied to me. I pushed the magazine aside and looked out of the window. A trash can slid past along the street.

Edith, however, wasn’t done with the magazine.

In two hours you’ll be forty, you
could
have been married for twenty years, no plastic surgeon would rule out a facelift with you, and by the time your mother was forty you’d already finished your high school exams. You were already nineteen. You are
exactly
the target group for this magazine.

A garden chair tipped over on my terrace. I stood up to see whether the wicker beach chair was holding up to the storm. It looked okay so far. The other chair spun over the paving stones.

I saw my reflection in the windowpane. Defiantly I smiled at myself and waited for Charlotte’s voice.
You look good, not at all like a forty-year-old.

Edith answered quickly.
Well, maybe not in this light.

I sat back down at the table. My cell phone lay next to the wine glass and the ashtray. There were no notifications of text messages or calls on the display. I checked the reception; perhaps there were problems in the strong winds. But no, the network was stable. I pushed it aside and drew the wine glass nearer to me.

Forty.

I had got my qualifications, got myself a career, got married, and would soon be divorced. I would never be back at school, or become a professional sportswoman, nor have children. I didn’t really belong to the target group of the trendier TV channels anymore, no one would say “young lady” to me, and the cosmetics industry had developed products for my mature skin.

I had done a lot of things right and just as many wrong. Tomorrow was my birthday. I sat here alone and felt increasingly downbeat.

The storm rattled the windows, and outside, my green plastic watering can flew by. I followed its path with my eyes; it was from my old life. My cell was still lying there quietly, not lighting up. I checked the display again. It was fine.

I stood up again and went to the patio door. The branches of the shrubs were dancing on the paving stones; the first branches whirled across the street. The cars were being driven along at a walking pace. My melancholy feeling got stronger, in keeping with the apocalyptic mood outside.

Forty.

Until this damn magazine I hadn’t even thought about my age.

I was probably more than halfway through my life. And it was sure to have been the easier half. I started to feel uneasy.

Edith knew why.
No wonder, your life was always planned before. Bernd, the house, the job, your familiar circle of friends, everything and everyone getting old together. So there was no need to worry or be afraid. But now?

Charlotte answered immediately.
Rubbish. You’ve got Hamburg, Luise, Dorothea, the red armchair, freedom, a new lease on life. And…

Edith interrupted.
Don’t say Richard. He’s the real reason you’re feeling sad. He won’t be growing old with you; he’s not even calling you. He’s off with his wife, and you’re turning forty all alone. Great.

Charlotte tried to change the subject.
Dorothea offered to organize a party for you. Then there would have been lots of people here. But it’s actually really nice to have a bit of peace and quiet.

Edith didn’t agree.
So what? Richard wouldn’t be here either way. And that’s what it’s about right now.

I surrendered and gave in to my thoughts. They wandered to Richard and the evening in Bremen two and a half months ago.

Richard had picked me up at the hotel. When I came into the foyer and saw him standing there, I felt like I’d been hit by lightning. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be near him and how blue his eyes were. I can’t remember what we talked about in those first few minutes; it was like a silent film.

The Italian restaurant was only a few minutes from the hotel. It was pouring rain, so we ran closely alongside each other under Richard’s umbrella. I loved the way he smelled.

At the restaurant we ordered, without conferring, the same dish and the same wine, and couldn’t help but laugh. Once the wine was poured, Richard raised his glass, clinked it against mine, and said, with a thoughtful expression on his face, “To a wonderful evening. It’s lovely that you’re here.”

He smiled. So did I.

I felt very at ease in his company. He was clever, charming, and very caring and witty. He told me about his law practice and his colleagues; I described the Bremen booksellers and my job. The conversation was easy; one topic led to the next. Now and again our knees touched under the table, and we pretended not to notice.

The second garden chair capitulated to the storm and flew into the hedge, which was swaying wildly in the wind. I stood back up and went over to the window with my glass of wine. The beach chair was still standing its ground.

We had drawn out the evening as much as we could, first ordering more wine, then coffee.

Once we were the last guests, Richard asked for the bill. We stood next to one another at the bar and drank a grappa on the house while we waited. I leaned my hip against his, and he looked at me and then put his arm around me. By the time we left the restaurant, the rain had stopped. We walked slowly back towards my hotel; Richard linked his arm with mine. Just before we got to the hotel, he stopped and looked at me solemnly.

“Christine, I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight. I would really love to go up to your room with you now, but there’s something you should know.”

He looked away for a moment, then back into my eyes.

“I’ve already told you a lot about my life. The thing is, it’s been pretty stressful so far, and my marriage to Sabine is demanding too, but one horrendous divorce is enough for me. I know I don’t want another one. It’s something I feel you should know.”

I answered him with a kiss, pulling him towards the entrance of the hotel.

Edith groaned loudly.
He told you the score, but of course you go and get swept up in the moment and let yourself in for all this nonsense anyway. You’ll only have yourself to blame.

My cell phone was still playing dead on the table. In ten minutes’ time I would be forty.

Charlotte pushed some images into my mind.
Richard’s face while he’s asleep. Richard’s face while he was making love to you. And it was nothing like the usual embarrassed first few times—when you’re so aware that the other body is strange and unknown to you. It was intimate, easy, and wonderful. It was right.

Edith reminded me.
What’s right is that he left at four a.m. so none of his neighbors would notice that he wasn’t home that night. And that’s what he did the other times too.

Charlotte answered.
He’s just as smitten as you are. His feelings are genuine. Otherwise he wouldn’t have phoned you the next day and told you that he wants to see you again.

We’d met up every week since that night. Always on Wednesdays. To start with I’d rearranged my appointments, but since the tour had finished it was much easier. In the evenings we texted, and during the day we spoke on the phone. I was in love, and yet no one knew about it.

Edith was getting impatient.
And now you’re in a state. On the weekend he’s in Berlin, and you haven’t heard from him since Thursday. You’re waiting around for any sign of life from him and sitting in alone on your birthday.

Midnight.

My cell beeped twice. A text message. I pressed the small envelope image and felt my heart rate quicken.

“All my love on your fortieth. Wishing you a new decade that even the gods would be jealous of. Georg.”

I smiled, even though I could feel my disappointment trying to find its way out as tears. I went back to stand by the window with my glass. And crossed my fingers that Georg’s wish would come true. One way or another.

My mobile beeped again. The second text.

“Birthday kiss. See you soon. Richard.”

My soul felt calmed. That was a good start. I ignored Edith, gave Charlotte a wink, and went to bed, taking my phone with me.

Eight hours later I was awoken by the telephone ringing. My mother said hello as I sleepily answered.

“Good morning, birthday girl, we just wanted to wish you a wonderful day and to say we hope that all your dreams come true.”

I was a little dizzy from getting up so quickly and had to lean against the kitchen table. I looked at the clock. Eight thirty a.m. I slowly pulled my thoughts together. My mother was on the phone, it was my birthday, I was now forty, and I needed coffee and a cigarette. But my mother wasn’t done yet.

“Did you have one heck of a storm in Hamburg too? My goodness. I thought the roof was going to blow off, but everything’s okay, we’ve checked. Why are you so sleepy still?”

“I woke up when the telephone rang. I don’t set an alarm.”

I looked at the espresso machine with longing. I couldn’t use it while I was on the phone, it made too much noise. Mind you, so did my mother.

“Well, anyway, everything here is fine. And with you? You would have had to get up now anyway, wouldn’t you? Or did you set the table last night?”

“Set the table?” I didn’t understand what she meant. She seemed to notice and changed the subject.

“Okay darling, anyway, have a great day. I’ll hand you over to your father now.”

I continued to stare at the espresso machine. Then I heard my father’s deep voice.

“Hello, Christine. I wish you good health, happiness, success, and for all your dreams to come true. How does it feel to be forty?”

I cleared my throat, but my voice still sounded croaky.

“Thank you. I feel just the same as always, really.”

His answer sounded disapproving.

“You should really give up smoking, you know. I’m always reading about women over forty who smoke and have heart attacks.”

I answered automatically. “Yes, if they’re taking the pill, but I’ve weaned myself off of that.”

He was flustered. Sometimes he could be a bit of a prude.

“Christine! Well, you’re a grown-up. I only mean well. I don’t want to interfere with your life. So, when are the guests arriving?”

I was still trying to figure out what guests he meant when I heard my mother’s voice in the background.

“Oh, Rudi, you’re not supposed to mention it—it’s Ines’s surprise!”

I stood up and turned the espresso machine on.

“Okay, daughter, you heard her. Forget what I said. So, happy birthday again and have a great day.”

We said goodbye. I put the phone back and let the espresso machine be as noisy as it liked. But before I had a chance to foam the milk, the doorbell rang. I felt annoyed; it was my birthday, and no one was letting me ease myself into the day in peace. Yesterday’s melancholy was still lying over my head like a dark cloud. It rang again, this time for longer. There was no post on Sundays, so it couldn’t be that.

Charlotte was roused with a start.
Richard? Because of your birthday?

I quickly pulled my bathrobe on, tried to smooth my hair down, tore open the front door, and pressed the buzzer. My heart had jumped into my mouth.

“It’s your birthday!”

Dorothea, laden down with bags and flowers, was climbing up the stairs, beaming. Ines followed right behind her. “Good morning, sis, happy birthday!”

I looked back at them, trying to look excited and to keep Edith’s mouth shut in my thoughts.

“Ines, Dorothea, it’s not even nine a.m. yet.”

Dorothea was the first to reach me, putting her bags down and hugging me.

“Happy birthday! You’ve achieved so much, and here’s to it carrying on that way.”

She kissed me on the mouth, then held me at arm’s length, looked me up and down, and started to laugh.

“It’s a good thing we’re here early. Your hair is in a right state. And this bathrobe…”

Ines pushed us aside so she could close the apartment door. She shoved me right in front of the mirror and made me look. My hair was standing up in all directions and all fuzzy, and my red-checkered bathrobe was threadbare and longer in the front than the back.

I looked at Ines, shrugged my shoulders, and said, “Well, I’m forty now after all.”

She laughed and gave me a big hug.

“Many happy returns, big sis. But you seem a little out of sorts—is the hour too early or your age too high?”

I answered as I followed Dorothea into the kitchen. “Both, and I haven’t even had my first coffee yet.”