Chaperoned

by Dora Heldt

  “I bit myself in the knee, and he saw.”

  Marleen was completely baffled now. “Listen, perhaps it’s all been a bit much—getting up early, Heinz, your mother’s knee, but that’s no reason to totally lose the plot. You know what? You should take my bike, ride down to the White Dune, and just go for a swim. I’ll finish up here and we can catch up later.”

  As I stood in front of the bike shed, lost in thought, my father came out of the restaurant. He saw me, waved, and made his way over. He looked at me searchingly.

  “So?”

  “What?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just going to take Marleen’s bike down to the beach.”

  “For a swim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come too?”

  “Who’s helping Onno?”

  “Kalli.”

  “Do you have a bike?”

  “Kalli lent me his new one. The one yesterday was his old one.”

  My father was the last person I wanted to be with while my head was so muddled, but the obedient fourteen-year-old within me didn’t see a way out of it. “Okay, fine. Let’s grab some towels.”

  “Let’s go.”

  A Dip in the Sea

  * * *

  Ten minutes later we were cycling past the spa clinics toward the east swimming beach. Both of us were silent; I alternated between thinking about my debacle in reception and my mother, and my father looked equally lost in thought.

  After a good half hour we reached the White Dune. We put Marleen’s and Kalli’s bikes together and locked them up. Then something occurred to both of us at the same time. My father looked at me.

  “Did you pack my bathing trunks?”

  “No. Did you bring my bathing suit?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “That’s typical of Nordeney. They’ve all got suits on here. God, how inhibited. So what do we do now?”

  I went back over to the bikes. “Well, either we carry on another mile or so to the nudist beach, or we stay here and risk getting reported for indecent exposure.”

  “Who says it would be indecent? I’m still in very good shape. I would even go so far as to say that two certain ladies from the guesthouse would be very happy to witness that particular sight.” He giggled and held his hand in front of his mouth. “Oh, I hope that wasn’t sexist.”

  The word “guesthouse” was enough to plunge me back into my reverie. I pictured his brown eyes again and my heart started to pound. Anyway, Johann Thiess was probably married, or maybe he was gay. You never see men like that just running around free and single. I took a deep breath, in and out. My father looked at me from the side and squeezed my arm.

  “I know you’re worried about Mom. That thing about the ladies was only a joke; I’d never do a thing like that. Let them see me naked, I mean. Really, never. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

  I decided not to explain what I’d been thinking about. “I know, Dad. And the operation tomorrow will be fine, you’ll see. We’ll give Mom a call afterward. So, let’s leave this inhibited beach and head off for a swim.”

  The nudist beach was even more beautiful and, above all, quieter than the other one.

  My father only needed three minutes to get all his things off, then ran down toward the water like a little kid and plunged into the incoming wave. No sign of any hip problems. He bobbed around in the water, letting himself be swayed by the waves, and beamed toward me.

  “It’s wonderful!” He had to shout to make himself heard over the sound of the surf. “Just like at home.”

  He had eyes like Paul Newman.

  After our swim, we wrapped ourselves up in our towels and walked along the beach in the sunshine. Now and then my father leaned over to pick up a stone or a seashell, before throwing it into the water. He stopped and showed me a pink shell.

  “Look, a completely intact cockle. That’s one of my favorite words by the way: cockle. It sounds so nice, doesn’t it?” He cleaned it carefully. “I’m taking this one with me, for Mom maybe. So, shall we make our way back?”

  With the sun shining on our backs, we went to pick up our things. I had spent almost every summer of my childhood on the beaches of Sylt. The dried salt on my skin, the sound of the surf, walking barefoot in the water, my father’s presence, and the beginnings of sunburn made me feel like I was ten years old again.

  “Christine, shall we arrange a beach ball game for tomorrow, or football maybe? We can rent a cooler and a tent and take some food and drink with us. And a few newspapers and suntan lotion. We could stay here the whole day like in the old days. And we can take Kalli and Dorothea and Gesa with us.”

  It seemed he was feeling young again, too. So much so that he was even thinking of taking on us “kids” in a game and getting excited about it. “Yes, football is a great idea. Two against two and Gesa can be the umpire.”

  “And by the evening none of us will be able to even climb the stairs.”

  He looked at me sympathetically. “You and Dorothea, you don’t play much sports, do you? Well, Kalli and I don’t need to be on the same team. It can be you and me against Kalli and Dorothea; otherwise you won’t have a chance. It’ll be fun. I’ll ask Kalli where we can get a good ball from. Although, do we have time for it?”

  I didn’t answer, suddenly distracted. We couldn’t find our things. My father said he’d made a precise mental note of the place where we’d left our clothes, and he’d been so sure that I hadn’t paid much attention. But the spot he was heading for was empty.

  “I don’t believe it! Our things have been stolen.” He stared at the sand in bewilderment and shook his head. “It’s outrageous. My best shorts. No one would do a thing like that on Sylt. What do we do now? I can’t ride a bike with just a towel and no pants.”

  I bit my lower lip before I could be overcome with giggles at the image of the two of us cycling merrily past the spa clinics, scantily clad in flapping towels.

  “I’m sure they haven’t been stolen.”

  “No?” My father looked at me impatiently. “Are you suggesting I buried them?”

  “No, Dad.” I held my hand in front of my eyes and looked up and down the beach. “We must have just walked past them.”

  “Nonsense! I’d recognize my red shorts anywhere. They’re my best pair.”

  “You said that already. But the thing is, you weren’t wearing them. You had jeans on.”

  I walked slowly back the way we’d come, looking for them. My father followed. “I was wearing shorts. It’s pretty warm today, you know. Believe me, we’ve been robbed.”

  I was sure I was on the right track, and I was. I could see our things a dozen yards away. Once I got to them, I handed my father his jeans. The legs were rolled up.

  “Here are your jeans.”

  “Well, they’ve got a reddish tinge to them.”

  They were just completely normal blue jeans. My father pulled his underwear on, embarrassed, then his jeans.

  “And they feel like shorts.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I guess Mom must have put them through the wash with some red socks. They look a little red in the sun.”

  He nodded contentedly. “Exactly. But it was careless of you not to make a mental note of where we got undressed. You should take more care of your things, you know. Right, then. Shall we go and have a drink?”

  “Do you have some money on you?”

  “Of course. Fifty euros in my trouser pocket.”

  “Dad! You just left that lying here on the beach?”

  “Of course I did; it was fine. Who would steal money from the beach? Come on, I’m really thirsty.”

  We bought ourselves two bottles of water, sat down on a bench, and lifted our faces toward the sun.

  My thoughts wandered back to Johann Thiess. The swim really had calmed me down. Sure, I guess he hadn’t gotten the impression that I was the most exciting and intelligent woman on the planet, but he had only just arrived. All I had to
do was make sure I didn’t make any more mistakes. I could get him to think I was nice, at least, a little like the cockle. I opened my eyes and stood up.

  “I feel like the sun’s scrambling my brain.”

  “Yes.” My father looked at me. “It doesn’t take long. You need to wear a hat.” He tapped his. “Keeps your brain fresh.” He looked back out to sea. “Your mom must already be in the hospital by now. Ines was planning to drive her there at midday. I hope she has a nice room and that there’s not going to be someone in a bed nearby snoring all night.”

  “I very much doubt she’d be sharing a room with a man.”

  “No, of course not. But it’s not just men who snore. Mom does, you know.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes, you get that from her.”

  “I snore? How do you know? I’ve never snored.”

  “Yes you do. When I tried to wake you yesterday morning you were snoring like mad. I thought to myself, it was a good thing that it wasn’t someone else hearing you. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m your father, after all.”

  I thought of the nice cockles and decided to rigorously erase Johann Thiess from my thoughts. It was too risky.

  It was nearly two o’clock by the time we returned to the guesthouse. Rather than head back after our drink, my father had decided to have an ice cream, buy a newspaper, and take a bit of a ride around. “Just so I can get used to Kalli’s bike,” he’d said.

  “What’s Kalli using at the moment, by the way?” I asked when we finally pulled up at the guesthouse.

  “Hanna’s. But you wouldn’t catch me riding a woman’s bike. People might think I can’t get my leg over the bar anymore or something.”

  “Marleen has a whole shed full of bikes.”

  “I had a look at them, but they’re not so great. At least this one’s been looked after. And it’s still quite new.”

  We rested the bikes by the back door of the shed and took hand towels from nearby racks. My father held his out toward me.

  “Here, I don’t know where it goes.”

  I took it from him. “In the washing machine, perhaps?”

  “Well, you can take mine with you if you’re going anyway. I have to go across to the restaurant and check on how the boys are doing.”

  He left me standing there and disappeared. The legs of his jeans were rolled up unevenly, and his shirt was hanging out. Only his cap was in place. At the very least, his brain would still be fresh.

  “Hey, how was the beach?”

  Gesa had appeared next to me. I gave a start, as I hadn’t heard her come up.

  “Lovely. We went to the nudist beach.”

  “Heinz is a nudist?” Gesa whistled admiringly. “Is he an enthusiast?”

  “No, he just hates wet bathing suits and forgot to even pack one. So did I, to be honest. And on Sylt, most people bathe naked.”

  “Heavens, if Frau Weidemann-Zapek and Frau Klüppersberg get wind of that…they waited for him until half past ten, by the way. In the end I told them I had to vacuum the breakfast room. Otherwise I’m sure they’d still be sitting there.”

  “They really are determined, aren’t they? Oh well, it’s his own fault. Is Dorothea back yet?”

  Gesa shrugged. “No idea. I haven’t seen her yet. Anyway, my shift’s over now, so I’m going to the beach, too. There’s still a load on in the dishwasher, so if you feel like it you can empty it later, but otherwise everything is done.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve ever heard. Thanks, Gesa.”

  She laughed, slung her purse over her shoulder, and jumped onto her mountain bike.

  An Interrupted Flirtation

  * * *

  I heard someone close a window on the first floor. I looked up and wondered if it was Johann Thiess’s room. Had he been sitting by the window, waiting for me to walk by? In an attempt to pull myself together, I decided to take a shower, then to go shopping and buy myself a hat.

  As I was moisturizing afterward, I noticed I was already a little sunburned. And the patch between my shoulder blades, where it was most sore, was out of my reach. I was relieved to hear a key in the front door.

  “Dad, can you come here a moment? My back’s sunburned.”

  Dorothea came into the bathroom. “And you think Heinz will have the solution to that? Moisturize, my dear, right away—at your age every sunburn is ruinous.”

  I held the lotion out to her. “Oh, don’t bang on, you’re only four years younger than me and have much more delicate skin. Here, my whole back please. And be gentle, it’s really burning.”

  Dorothea put the lotion on liberally. I looked in the mirror. I was red and greasy. And I only had one dress with me: a red one, backless. I guessed that could stay in the wardrobe for now.

  I sat down next to Dorothea, who was balancing on the edge of the bathtub, her face glowing.

  “Oh Christine, I had such an amazing day. Emden is really charming. We went to an art gallery, then to the harbor, had lunch, and then made out a little.”

  “I thought you were planning to…you did what?!”

  “Christine, this guy is phenomenal. He lives in Oldenburg, by the way. How long does it take to drive from Hamburg to Oldenburg?”

  “Two hours, I think. And anyway, didn’t you say you just wanted a harmless summer fling? You certainly don’t waste any time. Is he really that good?”

  Dorothea stretched out her legs and almost fell backward into the tub. I grabbed her arm tightly.

  “Good? Nils is sensational! I think this is going to be the best summer of my life.”

  I stood up and went to the wardrobe in Dorothea’s bedroom where I’d hung my things. Dorothea skipped in behind me and fell back onto the bed. While she gushed about Nils, the freelance interior designer with dimples, who was a surfer, had been single for a year, had blue eyes, liked reading T. C. Boyle and Haruki Murakami, whose sign was Virgo, who was really funny, and, and, and…I rummaged through my clothes with increasing despair. I only had practical things with me—jeans, pullovers, jeans, T-shirts, jeans, a cardigan. And the red dress. I gave a tormented sigh, interrupting Dorothea from her rapture.

  “What are you looking for, anyway?”

  “Something nice to wear. I only packed old stuff; my father was driving me up the wall at the time.”

  Dorothea looked at me, her eyes wide, and waited for an explanation.

  “A new guest arrived this morning. Johann Thiess. I was on reception. And I had this striped T-shirt on. And these red shorts.”

  Dorothea was getting more and more confused. “So what?”

  “Dorothea, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

  “Oh.”

  “But it didn’t go so well. I mean, I behaved really strangely.”

  “Strange how?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. He probably thinks I have behavioral problems or something. I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Dorothea, I just really messed up. I wasn’t expecting a guy like that to just turn up out of the blue. God, I acted like a fourteen-year-old.”

  I sank down on the bed. Dorothea gave me a comforting pat on the back. It stung, and I jumped.

  “That could be Heinz’s fault. Fathers always make you feel like you’re much younger.”

  “Heinz wasn’t even there.”

  “Well, it’s probably better that way.” Dorothea laughed. “Just imagine if he’d gotten involved. How did your father used to react, anyway, when you brought someone home to meet him?”

  I thought back. “As you’d expect him to. With Holger he said there was something brutal in his eyes, Jörg was too soft for him, Peter too stupid, and when Bernd and I got engaged, my father recommended I get a prenuptial agreement. He was triumphant when I got divorced and invited me out to dinner to celebrate. You know what he’s like.”

  Dorothea stood up and went over to the wardrobe. “He only means well. So, I have three sexy dresses with me, and they’ll fit you too. It wouldn’t be right i
f we didn’t both have the best summer of our lives.” She held out a black dress, sleeveless, with a plunge neckline, and covered in at the back. “Here you go, put this on. But it’s best if Heinz doesn’t get wind of your seduction plans. I just have a funny feeling about it.”

  We looked at each other. I nodded. I had a funny feeling too.

  An hour later I was reading the paper on a lounge chair. Dorothea had gone back to bed; getting up at five in the morning didn’t agree with her. Marleen had gone shopping, Kalli was picking up the family of four from the dock, and my father was taking a shower. I skimmed over an article on the regional pages: “Invasion of the Day-Trippers, or, ‘Which Way Is It to the Beach?’” The writer’s approach to the subject was immature, full of clichés and horrible jokes, but it was so bad it was funny. The article was signed off with the abbreviation G von M. What a pretentious-sounding name, I thought, as I heard footsteps behind me.

  “Hello?”

  The voice made me jump. Before I could answer, Johann Thiess stood right in front of me.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s really lovely here.” He pointed at the chair opposite me. “May I?” He smiled. I took a deep breath.

  “Of course…coffee?”

  “I’d love one. But only if it’s no bother.”

  I jumped up and practically ran into the house. It was no bother; in fact, it was a lifesaver. As I made the coffee I practiced breathing. I prayed for the ability to form complete sentences, and that my father would take all the time in the world in the shower. Slightly calmer, I balanced two coffee cups and went back out into the garden. Johann had picked up the paper and was reading the invasion article. He smiled at me and folded it back up.

  “Have you read the article about the day-trippers?” he asked. “It’s so bad it’s good.”

  That’s a sign, I thought, then chased away the thought. Just be charming, and sexy.

  He poured milk into his coffee and stirred it around.

  “So do you actually live on the island?”