by Strauss, Lee
“No,” Katja clarified. “I mean my father. Why did he leave us?”
“Oh.” Gisela drew back and wrung her hands in her lap. Katja thought for a moment that she wouldn’t answer, but then she mumbled. “I know I told you he left us. It was because I was angry. He worked at a mill near here, and even though it didn’t pay well, I was happy enough with that. Between the two of us, we got by. But then he heard about the fishing job with big promises of large wages. I begged him not to quit his job and leave us, but he wouldn’t listen. He promised to send me money— lots of money, he said—but instead, I never heard from him for months. On my wage alone, it wasn’t enough to take care of us.”
Gisela wiped her eyes. “A year later, I got a telegram saying he fell off the boat. I never saw one dime of any money he supposedly made.”
Katja felt tears burn at the back of her eyes. “He fell off the boat? You mean he died?”
Gisela’s eyes drooped. “I should’ve told you, I know. But I thought that thinking he was gone would be easier for you than knowing he was dead.”
Katja sat back stunned. She supposed that deep down she knew something terrible had happened to her father. She’d believed he’d loved her and wouldn’t have stayed away so long if he were alive and of sound mind somewhere.
But hearing the truth so starkly like that pierced her heart. Sorrow weighed heavily for the things both she and her mother had lost by her father’s poor choice.
Oh, Papa. At least when she thought he was alive, there was hope they might meet up again. Now that hope was shattered and her heart along with it. She let her hair fall in front of her face to hide the grief that pinched so deeply. But knowing that her father hadn’t abandoned them, that he meant to do them well, brought some relief. Maybe now she could forgive him for not being there for her, for forcing her mother to depend on Horst.
Katja reached up under her sheath of hair to press back the tears. She felt the warmth of Micah’s palm on her leg under the table. Gisela reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Katja didn’t know how to respond to her mother. It wasn’t okay that she’d lied to her all these years. But, her mother wasn’t strong, and she did what she thought was best at the time.
Katja knew she needed to mourn this new loss, but now wasn’t the right time. She breathed deeply and pushed her hair off her face. She mustered a soft, “It’s okay.” Then she dug her phone out of her bag, surreptitiously checked the time under the table and glanced at Micah. She wanted to leave.
“I have a phone now,” she said to her mother. She took a pen and paper out of her purse and jotted down her number. “If you or Sibylle need anything, just call.”
Katja sipped the last of her tea. Micah had been right about her coming back to check in. Her mother and sister didn’t look great, but they were okay. And the fact that she had calmed her mother’s worries made the effort worthwhile.
She was about to tell her mother they were leaving when the door opened and a low baritone voice she knew well slurred, “What the hell?”
Horst stumbled into the room, and everyone automatically stiffened. Katja stood and Micah followed her lead.
“We were just leaving,” she said.
Horst narrowed his puffy, bloodshot eyes. “Katja? Is that you?”
He lumbered his heavy form toward her and Katja’s eyes widened with disbelief. He was actually going to try to embrace her? She stepped back, with palms up.
Horst’s face twisted with offense. “What? You ungrateful sow! After everything I did for you, you can’t even give your father a hug?”
“You’re not my father,” Katja said stiffly. “Never was, never will be.”
He moved to grab her—Katja wasn’t sure what he planned to do—but Micah stepped in between them. “Calm down,” he said. He stood tall with straight shoulders and a stern glare. His fists curled near his abdomen.
“Or what?” Horst said incredulously. “You come into my home and think you’re some big hot shot?”
Horst took a lazy swing, and Micah swiftly and expertly twisted his arm behind his back. Horst cried out in pain. Micah spoke clearly in his ear. “I’m leaving now with Katja. You make one wrong move and you’re on the floor, do you understand?” He wrenched Horst’s arm again, causing another yelp.
“And if you even think about touching your daughter in an inappropriate way or hurting your wife, I will send you a legion of trouble. You’ll be locked up so long you’ll never again see the light of day. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes,” Horst huffed.
Micah pushed him to the sofa where he collapsed. Katja quickly hugged her mother and sister, and whispered urgently into Sibylle’s ear. “Mama has my phone number. Call me if you need me, okay?”
Sibylle’s lips trembled but she nodded.
Katja hated leaving her mother and Sibylle behind, aware of how ironic it was considering she hadn’t wanted to come to see them in the first place.
Besides fear and regret, her heart burned with another strong emotion: anger. And oddly it wasn’t directed at Horst. She was mad at Micah.
Tension filled the Audi like foam peanut packaging in a parcel marked “fragile.” Micah’s white knuckles wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed and trained on the road ahead. Katja stared out the passenger window, her arms folded over her chest and a thick lump forming in her throat.
“Are you okay?” Micah finally asked.
Katja bit her lip and shook her head once. No, she wasn’t okay.
“I think things went well, though, hey? Until that jerk showed up.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
Micah’s eyes cut to Katja’s stiff form. “Done what? Take down a bully?”
She turned sharply. “You don’t get it, do you? You just made things infinitely worse.”
“What? How?”
“You humiliated him in front of his wife and daughter. He’s only going to get meaner now, to reinstate his status of patriarch.”
Micah shook his head. “No. He understands that I’d bring the law down on his head if he did anything.”
“The law doesn’t care about people like my family.” Katja pinched back tears. “Women get beaten in their own homes all the time in my world. Girls get raped, and nothing ever happens to stop it. It’s not like in your world where money talks and you can manipulate those less powerful than you with a simple threat.”
Your world. My world. Katja held in a sob. Micah didn’t get it. He didn’t get her.
Silence filled the space, and an invisible force pushed them further apart. Katja lowered her window, suddenly needing fresh air. The world blurred by as the Audi picked up speed. Katja glanced at the speedometer: a hundred and eighty kilometers an hour.
“Look,” Micah said through tight lips. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. Your step-dad was being a belligerent imbecile. I didn’t have a chance to think it through.” He reached for her arm and tugged until he found her hand, then threaded his fingers through hers.
“Your mother and sister were sweet. I’m glad I met them.”
Katja’s gaze moved from their joined hands to his face. Could he really mean that? Did he not see the squalor they lived in? That she’d grown up in? Her mother couldn’t be more different than his fashion-conscious, high-powered mother.
He came from a world of privilege and entitlement, she from poverty and neglect. He might not think it mattered now, but it would. One day it would, and then what would she do? When the day came that Micah rejected her, what would she do?
A picture of her falling off the Augustus Bridge into the River Elbe flashed through her mind. The longer she stayed with Micah, the deeper the pain his parting would cause. Micah’s grip remained, but she let her fingers go limp.
“This isn’t going to work.”
Micah signaled and pulled sharply off the road. His dark eyes flashed with anger as he stared at her. “You’re not going
to do this now.”
She turned away, pinching her eyes tight. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Later, but not yet. Her lips tightened as they trembled. “You know I’m right.”
He touched her shoulder. “Katja, look at me.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to get back, pack her things and leave.
“Katja?”
She swallowed and looked at him. The look of longing in his eyes almost killed her resolve, but she breathed in deeply and stared back with determination. “You know I’m right,” she repeated.
“I know no such thing.”
“You might not want to see it now, but one day you will.”
“One of us makes the other one feel small and cold,” he quoted.
“Like the sun and the moon,” she whispered back.
“I thought I was the moon,” he said.
“No. It’s always been me.”
Micah sighed, then turned the Audi on and merged back onto the autobahn. The ride back to Dresden was quiet, the air between them, thick.
This was it, Katja thought. The end of their romance. She should’ve known better. She should’ve guarded her heart. Micah Sturm was too good for her. She’d never end up with someone like him. Never.
They entered Dresden and drove over the narrow, bumpy cobblestone road that led to Micah’s parking place. He stroked her arm, and she stiffened. If she looked at him, even for a moment, she’d dissolve into a puddle of tears.
“I don’t want you to break up with me today,” he said. “I know you really want to, but you’re very emotional right now, and I think you should wait until you have a clear head.”
“Our circumstances aren’t going to change by waiting,” she said.
“Can you wait two days? If you still want to end things by Tuesday, I’ll accept your decision. Not happily, but I’ll respect it. I’m just asking for a two-day pause before we make anything final.”
Katja’s chest squeezed hard. Dragging this out for two days would be like removing a Band-Aid slowly and painfully, like taking out stitches from a thick scar before it was properly healed. By yourself, without the assistance of a doctor.
Micah’s eyes were soft and pleading.
“I’ll still be the moon on Tuesday,” she said.
“Maybe not,” he responded. “I’m feeling awfully small and cold right now.”
If she loved him, she could give him this one last request. And she did love him. Her eyes tightened shut. Why did she let herself fall in love with this man? Stupid, stupid girl!
“Okay,” Katja heard herself say. She needed time to find a new place anyway. Somehow she’d get through the next couple days. She felt so weak and worn, she really didn’t know how. She needed another miracle.
Katja followed Micah up the stairs to his flat, waiting while he fumbled with the key to the door and then hesitated as she pondered where to go. Staying in Micah’s room felt too intimate, even though she slept there alone. Claiming the sofa bed again meant she had nowhere to hide. The formerly locked room was empty, but it had no furniture, unless she was prepared to sleep on the floor. She was exhausted, and that thought didn’t appeal to her. She begrudgingly traipsed to Micah’s room, closing the door behind her.
She slumped on the bed and pushed her face into her pillow. Only then did she allow the tears to flow. When her heaving stopped and her waterworks had depleted, she slipped into sleep. It was early morning when she awoke with the dusty orange glow of sunrise fading out the dark windows. She was achy from sleeping in her clothes. Her mouth and face felt gross from being unwashed, and she had to go to the bathroom. She could only hope that Micah was still fast asleep and she could sneak down the hall unnoticed.
No such luck. The blue glow of the TV filled the room. Micah reclined bare chested under the covers, leaning against the back of the sofa.
He caught sight of her, and their gaze connected. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
She gulped. He looked so appealing. Her heart and mind and body wanted him. She was anything but hungry. “No,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”
She took her time showering. She brushed her teeth and blow-dried her hair. She kept her eyes averted when she stepped determinedly to her room. She couldn’t resist a quick look over her shoulder to the living room. The sofa bed was empty. Micah was gone. His absence underscored the loss she felt so deeply already, and a new swirl of grief consumed her.
Katja went back to bed and slept in until almost noon. She could imagine Micah sitting at the table, working on his laptop and waiting for her to wake up, but she really hoped he wasn’t. She didn’t know how to face him after yesterday, and she wasn’t up for another fight.
She needn’t have worried. If Micah had returned, he had left again. Maybe he went to church. He did that on Sundays sometimes. They managed to stay clear of each other for the entire day, and on Monday she called Renata and asked if it was possible for her to take a double shift. Fortunately, she said yes. It would keep her out of Micah’s flat for the evening, plus she’d make extra money, something she really needed now. She’d scour the papers for a new place to live. Maybe Renata knew of a place somewhere.
She feigned a smile when she entered the coffee shop on Monday morning, not wanting Renata or the other staff to see the sadness that weighed her down. She could fool the others but not her boss.
“Oh, Schatz,” Renata said as Katja strapped on one of the company aprons. “What happened to the happy girl who left for Berlin with her boyfriend?”
On the word boyfriend, Katja’s eyes grew red and dumb tears leaked out.
“Come with me,” Renata said. She guided her to the small staff room at the back. It was empty and Renata closed the door behind them. “Sit,” she said, and Katja did willingly. Her knees were watery, and her whole body felt limp like spaghetti. She had no idea how she was going to stay upright for the rest of the day.
“What happened, Engel?” Renata said softly. Her eyes were gentle and kind, and Katja gave into the need to bare her burdens to someone. She told her the whole story of her day in Berlin.
“Better just to end things now, even though it’s hard. It would only hurt so much more later on.”
“Honey, you’ve been abandoned by your father, abused by your stepfather, and you’ve felt rejected by your mother. It’s natural that you fear Micah will do the same to you. But has he shown any sign of that? Has he said or done anything to make you believe he feels superior to you?”
Katja paused at that. No, she couldn’t really think of anything specific. It was just logical, though. Only a matter of time. “Our stations in life are so different.”
“Everyone is equal in God’s eyes, my dear.”
Everyone may be equal in God’s eyes, but they weren’t in Frau Sturm’s. “You haven’t’ met his mother. She doesn’t like me, and she’s very influential in Micah’s life.”
“You’re afraid she’ll sway him?”
“Yes.” And to help Renata understand more clearly, she described their meeting. “She’s a force of nature, Renata, a roaring lion. Compared to her, my mother is a timid mouse who spends all her time cowering in the corner.”
“But, what are you?” Renata asked. “What are you?”
A tap on the door interrupted them. “Morning rush, Schatz,” Renata said. She patted Katja’s hand like the burning questions in her heart had been answered. Had they?
Thankfully, the busyness of the day kept Katja from constantly dwelling on her problems, and even though she felt like a hunchback in the spirit, in the natural she stood tall and wore a friendly face. She labored hard, especially when it was her turn to clean tables and sweep the floor. These physical tasks were minefields for her mind, and she had to work extra hard to keep her thoughts off Micah.
She was in the back putting the cleaning supplies away when she heard Renata’s voice.
“Katja, Katja!” Renata pranced toward her with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers in her hand
. “These came for you.”
Katja froze to the spot. Renata held the flowers out—a mix of red roses, white daisies and sprigs of lavender—and Katja accepted them with a shaky hand. She read the card. “I love you. M.”
I love you. His first declaration.
Renata smiled like a mad woman. “You don’t have to stay the extra shift, if you don’t want to,” she said.
Katja smiled shyly. Micah sent her flowers. He told her that he loved her.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Katja decided not to stay for her second shift. She was really lucky that her boss was a diehard romantic. At least when it came to other people. Renata excused her with a pat on the back telling her to go make nice with her handsome boyfriend. Katja smiled at her enthusiasm as she carried the bouquet home.
They were lovely, and the gesture was sweet, but could her objective to end things with Micah be swayed by a collection of flowers? There were bigger issues at stake. What was best for Micah in the long run? What was best for her? Were they the right choice for each other?
She turned her key in the handle of the door of Micah’s flat and found it was already unlocked. That was strange. Katja was sure she’d locked it on her way out.
Inside, she set the flowers on the table and went to Micah’s room to change out of her black and white uniform. She slipped into a pair of jeans—the only clean ones left were the ones with horizontal tears, exposing sections of her thigh—and her peasant blouse. She decided to keep her hair up in the high pony-tail the way she always wore it for work. The weather had warmed up over the weekend, and the afternoon sun pouring through the windows had heated up the flat.
She wondered what she should say to Micah. What should her position be now? It wasn’t just the flowers that had made her waver in her decision to leave, but Micah’s note.
Did he really love her?
She already knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was hopelessly in love with him. It was the reason her choice was so painful.
Her mind was thoroughly pre-occupied which was why she didn’t notice the figure standing in the hall on her way from Micah’s room to the bathroom.
