An Uncommon Family

by Christa Polkinhorn

  Anna got up and sat down in the easy chair next to the window. She wrapped her robe tight around her, longing for warmth. This was the third night after the shocking discovery. Anna had spent hours in front of the window, trying to come to terms with her broken life. How could she have been so blind? It was almost impossible to believe. The man with whom she had had a close and intimate relationship for years had become a complete stranger overnight.

  Was there any kind of justification for Nico’s actions, anything she could understand and perhaps forgive? Or had he simply used her all these years to be able to stay in the United States? It was just not possible. Not even the best actor in the world could have faked the kind of love and passion she had felt in him. Sure, there had been times when he had been moody or distant. They had had their disagreements, but that happened in every relationship. Nothing she could remember would have pointed to the fact that her husband had lived a secret double life.

  And now? What was going to happen now? Anna stared out the window. The trees in the front yard slowly came into focus in the hazy gray of dawn. Soon, patches of crimson, orange, and purple would begin to show behind the buildings, the vibrant colors of a sunrise in a smog-filled city.

  Was there any hope left for them? In between fits of rage and despair, there were moments where she longed for Nico with all her heart. She still loved him. If he told her it was her he really loved, if he decided to get a divorce from his first wife, she thought she would be able to forgive him. She would even welcome his children. Anna loved children and she would love Nico’s children. They could stay with them during vacation and—

  Anna shook her head. The moments of hope were drowned by doubts and misery again. How could she have any expectations? Nico wasn’t someone she knew anymore. She was doomed to wait and the waiting was almost unbearable. All of a sudden, she felt completely exhausted. She slipped off her robe and went back to bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

  In her dream, she was walking through a forest, feeling Nico’s arm around her. She tried to turn around and look at him, but for some reason she wasn’t able to move her head sideways. She was forced to walk ahead, assuming it was Nico behind her. There was a terrible noise, as if someone was felling trees. She shot up in bed. The room was bathed in full sunlight. She looked at her watch. It was eleven o’clock in the morning.

  Someone was knocking at her door. “Yes,” she said. She was still half asleep. Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “Anna.” Susan opened the door. Her face was pale. “Anna. The news . . .”

  “What is it?” Anna stared at Susan’s terror-stricken face.

  “Oh, Anna.” Susan sat down on the bed and put her arm around her.

  “What’s the matter?” Anna yelled. She jumped out of bed and held on to the headboard, feeling dizzy.

  “Are you sure Nico was supposed to come on today’s flight?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Anna, I don’t want to scare you. Maybe there is more than one flight per day.”

  Anna was filled with dread. “No, there’s only one a day with that particular airline.”

  “Anna.” Susan held her tight. “The plane from Mexico went down. They just announced it on the news. They don’t think there were any survivors.”

  Anna slowly emerged from the darkness. She was lying on the bed. Susan sat next to her, stroking her forehead and her hair. “Anna?”

  Anna tried to sit up. Susan held her down. “Just relax. You fainted. George called the doctor.”

  Anna shook her head. “I don’t need a doctor.” She sat up and began to tremble violently.

  Susan held her. “Yes, you do.”

  The following few days were a blur of events. Anna lived through them barely conscious. She felt strangely removed from all the action around her. Her tear ducts seemed to have dried out. She couldn’t cry, she wasn’t able to think clearly. There was a constant pain in her chest and she occasionally wondered if she had one of those silent heart attacks she had read about.

  There were visits and phone calls from airline representatives, calls and visits from friends who had heard, a call from Nico’s employer, and calls from people from the Guadalajara office. Susan and George answered most of the calls and said that Anna would call back as soon as she was able to.

  Anna called her mother in Switzerland. Her mother wanted to fly to New York right away but Anna told her not to. Her mother was a good person but rather bossy and domineering and she would be completely outraged at Nico’s double life. Anna needed peace and quiet now and not the additional uproar her well-intentioned mother would certainly create.

  The second phone call Anna made was to England to inform Nico’s father. Anna didn’t have the heart to call him directly, so she called his sister, Nico’s aunt. Anna felt that someone needed to give him the news in person and stay with him.

  Anna had met Richard a couple of times before. He had attended their wedding in New York and they had visited him once in England. He was a somewhat withdrawn but kind person and he and Anna had gotten along really well. They had talked on the phone occasionally.

  A grief-stricken Richard called Anna right after he had received the news. He, too, offered to help her but she told him that she had all the help she needed. He insisted on flying to New York and Anna couldn’t dissuade him. She invited him to stay in their apartment. She was convinced Richard didn’t know anything of Nico’s marriage to the Mexican woman. She hated the thought of having to tell him. At the same time, it might be a relief to be able to talk about it with someone who knew Nico from childhood. Perhaps he could shed some light on his past.

  “What about the funeral?” Richard asked.

  Anna sighed. She didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t know yet how to bury a husband who might not even be my husband. “There’s going to be a memorial service for the victims in Mexico. That’s all I know right now. The body . . .” She couldn’t verbalize the fact that there probably would not be a body. “We’ll talk about it when you get here,” she said.

  Anna and Susan were sitting in the living room, trying to compose a list of things that needed to be done. George offered to go to Mexico to take care of as many of the legal and business matters as he could. Anna had given him the power of attorney.

  The day before, Gloria, the receptionist at the office in Mexico, had called. During the few times Anna had stayed in Guadalajara, Gloria and she had become friends. She also had been the first one to call right after the plane crash to express her condolences and to offer her help. Now, she called with “a strange piece of news,” as she put it.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this,” Gloria said. “We found some papers in Nico’s desk. One of them was a life-insurance policy.” Gloria hesitated. Anna could hear her sigh. “The name of the beneficiary, however, is a certain Carmen Maria Calderón. This is very odd. We thought that perhaps Nico had been married before and had forgotten to change the name of the beneficiary. We weren’t aware of a former marriage and we don’t know what the legal ramifications are. Do you know anything about this? I’m sorry to have to bother you with something like this.”

  “Yes. I know,” Anna said in a monotone voice. “I just found out a few days ago. It was such a shock. Obviously, Nico was already married when we got married. I don’t know what to tell you and what it all means. But I’m pretty certain that our marriage is void.” Anna’s voice cracked.

  “Oh my God, how terrible. I can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I. But listen, a friend of mine, who is a lawyer and knows a little bit about Mexican law, is flying to Guadalajara in a couple of days. He has my authorization to take care of all the legal stuff. I may have to come down as well. But right now, I don’t have the strength.” Anna’s head was aching and she was exhausted.

  “I understand. And if I or the other people in the office can do anything to help, please call us. Nico was a most valuable architect. We’re all heartbroken. And now this.”


  “I know. Well, thanks for everything. I’ll talk to you later.” Anna hung up.

  Anna felt as if she had died as well. The doctor had given her tranquilizers but she didn’t take them. She was numb without them. She couldn’t think straight, she felt empty, and, what was worse, she couldn’t truly mourn. She was torn between sorrow and anger.

  “I have no closure,” Anna said to Susan. “I’ll never know the truth. I’ll never know why. Why did Nico marry me? I feel as if the past years with him were just a dream . . . or a lie, one big huge lie. How can I mourn a man whom I don’t know anymore?”

  “You have to trust your feelings, Anna.” Susan hugged her. “Nico must have loved you. You couldn’t have lived with him and not feel it. Perhaps he married you for the wrong reason, but he loved you nevertheless.”

  “Trust my feelings? How can I, after having been so wrong?”

  “Do you think it would help if you went to see his . . . first wife?”

  “I thought about it. But what good would it do? What could I say to her? ‘Did you know your husband was married twice?’ I can’t imagine she knew. I couldn’t do that to her or to the children. It’s not their fault that their father was a liar and a cheat.” Anna shook her head. “No, I just have to live with it and try to somehow get over it.” A hard sob escaped her, and for the first time in days she cried. The painful sobs, however, brought no relief.

  Anna moved back to her apartment. She wanted to prepare for the arrival of Nico’s father. Susan came by every day. Other friends dropped by to express their condolences. Anna and Susan decided to have a memorial service at the church in which Nico and Anna had gotten married.

  “I don’t care what anybody says, to me you were his wife,” Susan said. “And in spite of what he did, he was our friend. Perhaps having a small memorial will help all of us.”

  Anna agreed. “Yes, you’re right. Besides, we need to do something for his father.”

  The memorial service was short. After the ceremony, people came up to Anna to shake hands and express their condolences. Anna tried to put on the best front possible, playing the grieving widow, although she couldn’t really mourn. Her sorrow was tinged with a deep sense of lost identity. For over seven years she had lived an unreal life next to a husband who wasn’t her husband. And now he was just simply gone, no good-bye, no explanation, no closure.

  Chapter 29

  Anna glanced at the clock. “Two o’clock, again.” She sighed and took a sip of the now-cold coffee. “I told you it was going to be a long story.”

  Jonas swallowed and touched her arm. “I’m so sorry. This is incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

  Anna gave a weak smile. “Yeah, sometimes I still can’t believe it, even after all this time.”

  “Did you ever find out anything from Nico’s father?” Jonas asked.

  Anna shook her head. “He was as shocked as I was. He knew that Nico had had a girlfriend in Mexico but he thought they had broken up before he moved to the United States. He never mentioned the marriage, the children.”

  “That must have been hard for him, too. To find out that your son is a notorious liar. There must be some explanation?” Jonas gave Anna a cautious look. “You probably don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

  Anna sighed. “I had to just go on with my life. But I know that something died in me at that time.” Her voice was solemn. “I never quite trusted anybody again . . . men, I mean.”

  “I can imagine. Did you . . . did you have any relationships after that?” Jonas asked.

  Anna shrugged. “Nothing steady or serious. I tried but whenever it got more involved, I pulled back.” She paused. “And now, that’s okay. I enjoy being with men . . . as friends.”

  Jonas nodded. “I understand.”

  Jonas decided to drive home in spite of the late hour. Anna invited him to stay but he knew she had to get up the next morning to pick up Karla from her spring vacation in the Ticino. And Jonas felt he needed to be alone to digest all he had heard over the past few hours. Her story had unsettled him.

  At home, he made himself a cup of herbal tea and added a shot of brandy. He stood by the window gazing into the night without really registering anything.

  Now he understood why Anna often appeared withdrawn and distant. But tonight, she had opened up and it had stirred something in him. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The veneer of the strong, aloof, and slightly cold woman had crumbled, exposing her vulnerable inner self.

  It had begun earlier in the evening. Her embarrassment about her shoes and outfit and the relaxed conversation at dinner, her tears during the concert had stirred something in him. And when she told him the story of her marriage and the betrayal, he could see in her the young woman in love, full of life and hope, and Jonas was overwhelmed by the desire to hug and kiss her. Just then, however, Anna—as if she felt the shift in his mood—withdrew into her cautious, remote personality again. And Jonas, too, assumed his former role as compassionate friend.

  However, something had changed. For the first time since Eva’s death Jonas felt he could fall in love again. Anna was attractive in an unconventional way. She had a good figure, beautiful thick hair, and intense blue-gray eyes. When she smiled—which didn’t happen all that often—the slightly harsh features of her face softened. At such a moment, Jonas was always startled at how pretty she was. From a conversation they had had, he figured she must be in her late thirties or early forties. Jonas was fifty-three. I’d be robbing the cradle. He chuckled, then shook his head.

  It was absurd to even think about her that way. There was no chance Anna would return his feelings. She obviously had no interest in a romantic relationship, and who could blame her?

  Besides, he told himself, if things didn’t work out between them, it might endanger his involvement with Karla. And right now, working with her, helping her a little, and keeping Anna as a friend seemed more important.

  Jonas gazed outside, where dawn began to spread. The lake was still dark, a blackish indigo-blue, but in the distance the first glimmers of purple and gold lit up the horizon.

  Now, his own bouts of jealousy over Eva seemed even more ridiculous to him. He never had to face the kind of a betrayal Anna had experienced. In fact, he was the one who had betrayed Eva. Not with another woman but by withholding a sinister secret from her, a secret in his family’s past, which may have affected Eva’s Jewish family in a cruel and destructive way. He had been too much of a coward to tell her about the brother of his mother, his uncle Werner, the hater of Jews.

  When Jonas was seven years old, he and his parents lived in Zurich. It was two years after the Second World War.

  Jonas remembered Uncle Werner as a somewhat crude but funny man. He liked to spend time with him because Uncle Werner brought him presents and played with him. Sometimes, he got to spend a weekend with his uncle who lived in a small village near Zurich.

  Uncle Werner let him get away with things his parents wouldn’t. He got to stay up later than at home, listen to the radio until late at night, and drink sodas. Uncle Werner even let him suck some foam off his beer mug. And Uncle Werner loved to tell stories, mainly about the war, when Werner was stationed at the border between Germany and Switzerland, defending the “homeland” as he put it.

  Werner was a bachelor, because “who would want such a bigot for a husband?” Jonas heard his mother say once.

  “What’s a bigot?” Jonas asked.

  “Someone who is prejudiced; someone who dislikes people from a different race or religion,” his mother said in that curt voice, which meant she wouldn’t go into any details.

  Jonas knew that Uncle Werner and his mother didn’t get along. They argued a lot. He also picked up scraps of conversation between his mother and father.

  “I don’t understand what happened to Werner that made him so hateful. I remember him as a quiet and somewhat lonely boy, who didn’t quite fit in. There were always some problems at home, in school, but nothing that exp
lained his later development,” Jonas’s mother said.

  His father shook his head. “He fell in with a bad lot, a bunch of Nazi sympathizers. And don’t forget. It was wartime. People tried to survive and did the best they could. Werner was in charge of part of the border. He had to follow orders.”

  “You know as well as I do that Werner did more than just follow orders.”

  “It’s easy for us to say in retrospect. How would we have acted, had it been us? We don’t know.”

  “You heard some of his remarks about Jews. It’s shameful.” Jonas’s mother raised her voice, something she rarely did. She got up and left the room, closing the door more forcefully than necessary.

  Jonas’s father winked at Jonas. “Your mother is a good person. She feels very strongly about what’s right or wrong.”

  Jonas didn’t understand his mother’s anger, but he knew it had something to do with the war.

  And Jonas liked the war games Uncle Werner played with him in the forest behind his home. Uncle Werner told him he had to keep their games secret. Jonas felt proud that his uncle trusted him with a secret.

  Jonas and Werner were soldiers defending the country. They stood guard at the “border,” with large thick sticks, their machine guns. Every once in a while Werner would look around to make sure that nobody saw him, then lifted his stick and shouted, “Stay back, you dirty Jew.” He made shotgun noises, “Ta, ta, ta, ta.”

  And Jonas imitated him. “Dirty Jews, go back. Ta, ta, ta.”

  “Kill them all,” Werner hissed under his breath.

  It was only later, when Jonas became friends with Jakob, a Jewish boy in school, that he began to doubt Werner’s version of things. He realized that it wasn’t the Jews who were the enemy but the Nazis. They had killed the Jews. They had killed part of Jakob’s family, who had done nothing wrong.