Life After Forty

by Dora Heldt

  “Bernd, I want you to leave now. And quickly, before I really lose my temper.”

  I couldn’t move or say a word.

  I watched my husband as he ripped his car keys out of his jacket in a rage and went to his car. The brakes squealed as he sped away.

  Marleen handed me a grappa.

  “Get that down you.”

  I sat down and drank the glass empty. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. “I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

  Marleen poured me some more. “This really is the limit. But this is as bad as it’s going to get. There’s a reason behind everything. Bernd clearly overextended himself; he had no idea how much you were paying for. And Antje was being given the cold shoulder, so they came up with this story to explain it all. That’s why no one has been in touch with you. But now I’ve put the story straight, and Antje will be the one with the problem, which she’s sure to take out on Bernd. It’s all so horrible.”

  “I’m not in the slightest bit sorry for them. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”

  My gaze wandered across the dark terrace. It was already late.

  In my mind I saw Luise in Cox, Jens on the beach chair, my balcony, Dorothea waving to me.

  Marleen was watching me. “Perhaps this whole drama has a silver lining. You were too soft; you weren’t angry enough.” I returned her gaze.

  “Perhaps. I’ve no idea. At the moment I just feel numb. And cold.”

  In the middle of the night, I woke up. I switched the light on and sat up. Looking at the wall opposite, a framed photograph caught my eye that I hadn’t noticed the day before.

  Beach chairs on Sylt.

  I opened the window, sat on the ledge, and smoked a cigarette. Ten minutes away, I thought, what a load of crap.

  I lay back down in bed and turned out the light. Shortly before I fell asleep, a thought came into my mind. Maren’s husband was a lawyer. I would give her a call. It was time.

  At Any Price

  Nina missed the ball by a hair’s breadth and let out a load groan. She’s panting just as much as me, I thought, wiping the sweat from my brow. Breathing heavily, Nina leaned against the wall and, sapped of energy, let her squash racket fall from her hand to the floor.

  “Eight to five,” I announced. “Come on, Nina, it’s my match point.”

  She struggled to catch her breath and got into position.

  “Go on. At least the game’s nearly over. If I carry on much longer I’ll be sick!”

  She didn’t even manage to return the serve.

  As we sat opposite each other in the changing room, sweaty and breathless, Nina massaged her calf with a pained expression.

  “I’m not sure whether squash is the right thing for my old body. I’m forty now…maybe I should just stick to going for walks.”

  I untied my sneakers. “We should just play more often, that’s all. I hurt all over too, but it was really fun.”

  Nina pulled her T-shirt—emblazoned with the slogan “The Best of the North”—over her head and threw it in her sports bag. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail, looking at me.

  “You’ve been playing for years, haven’t you?”

  For a moment I saw Antje before me in her sports gear.

  “I used to play regularly with a girlfriend. But I haven’t for the last year.”

  Antje and I used to meet up every other weekend to play squash, but in that last year she’d allegedly had problems with her knee and had cancelled again and again.

  “Nina, you play well; you didn’t exactly seem like a beginner either.”

  In the meantime she’d gotten out of her sweaty gear, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked up her shower things.

  “Twenty years of tennis, that’s enough. It didn’t used to hurt so much.”

  She laughed and disappeared into the shower.

  We’d bumped into each other in Bremen the week before. She was just coming out of a bookstore that I had my next appointment in. We both had half an hour to kill and went for coffee. She asked if I’d settled in well, and we talked about the journey, about the packed schedule of appointments.

  “The thing that most annoys me is how sedentary the job is. You’re sitting in the car all day, and with customers, and then at the desk or on the sofa in the evenings.” Nina laid her cookie back on the saucer. “I’d love to take up sports again, but there’s so little time in the week for training.”

  She looked at me. “Do you do anything?”

  “Not at the moment, but I used to play squash.”

  She was immediately excited. “That’s great, let’s play together this weekend. I’ll book us a court and pick you up.”

  She wrote it in her appointment book, snapped it shut contentedly, and ate the cookie.

  Now we were sitting, freshly showered and with blow-dried hair, in the bar that belonged to the sports center. We could see the squash court below us through the tinted glass panes. Nina wrinkled her forehead and looked down. “Oh God, that means everyone could see me sweating away.”

  My gaze fell on two young girls, twenty at most, who were at least ten kilos overweight. They moved clumsily and slowly; it looked like it was their first squash session. “Well, take a look at those two. They’re half our age and it seems like they’ve never played sports before.”

  Nina followed my gaze.

  “My God, such spring chickens and so inflexible. We look an awful lot better than they do.”

  My arm was shaking from exertion, so much so that I had to hold my beer glass with both hands. Nina watched me, looking pleased.

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s done in. But seriously, can we do it more often? I really enjoyed it.”

  I drank and put the glass back down. Only a few memories had come up while we played. I’d thought it would be much worse.

  “I’d love to. It did me good.”

  For a few minutes we watched two men who were locked in an unbelievably quick volley on one of the courts. When they stopped, Nina turned back to me.

  “Are you getting used to big city life?”

  “Yes, little by little.”

  I didn’t feel inclined to tell her about the dismal early days. Particularly as I still had dark moments now and then. She, on the other hand, seemed so self-confident and assured.

  I wasn’t expecting her next question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  I looked at her, amazed. “I’ve only been separated for six months. I couldn’t even imagine having one at the moment.”

  The two men had started playing again. They hit the balls with strength and impressive speed. I found their technique sensational, and I held my breath during a particularly difficult volley. The winner of the point raised his fist in victory.

  Nina was watching, equally fascinated.

  I got my breath back. “They’re amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Her facial expression was unreadable.

  The game continued. Nina said something that was too quiet for me to hear. I asked her again.

  “I said, they’re probably married.”

  I was confused. “Who?”

  Her look was earnest. “The two supermen, of course. Men like that are always married. You can forget about it.”

  “I meant I thought the game was amazing, not the men.”

  Nina raised her eyebrows. “Oh, okay, I misunderstood. Yes, you’re right, they play well. Shall we pay, or do you want another one?”

  “Let’s go. I’m starting to get hungry.”

  Nina thought for a moment. “Okay, then how about we drive to my place. I’ll show you where I live, you can meet my dog Edda, then we’ll go to the Italian place around the corner; it’s really good. What do you think? Fancy it?”

  I did.

  Nina lived in Altona in a loft—she’d already told me that. As we crossed through the courtyard that led to her apartment, I was already impressed by the exterior of the old factory building
. High windows, lushly planted pots and a balcony, lots of glass and old stone. The apartment was just as impressive inside. Nina gestured to a seating area with her hand and went upstairs.

  I’d only seen apartments like this on TV. On the last episode of Law and Order a famous film star was under suspicion of murder. The investigation had taken place in similar surroundings.

  There was about 150 square meters of living space, divided between two floors. The kitchen was open-plan; I recognized the designer. My whole apartment would have fit in her bathroom.

  I realized that my mouth was open.

  Nina had come back, accompanied by a friendly looking German shepherd dog carrying something in its mouth. “May I introduce you? Christine, this is Edda. Edda, Christine.”

  The dog tilted her head to the side and gave a whimper.

  I stroked her head. “Pleased to meet you, Edda. What’s that you’ve got in your mouth?”

  Nina pushed my hand away. “Christine, don’t take that away from her. It’s the muffler.”

  “What?”

  Edda whimpered and looked at me with her loyal eyes.

  “She’s always so happy when visitors come, and she barks like crazy. When she was still a puppy, I got so annoyed on my birthday one time that I stuffed a couple of rolled-up socks in her mouth. That was the first time I didn’t scold her when visitors were here. With the socks, the barking just became a whimper. Anyway, at some point she must have noticed that I didn’t shout at her anymore when she got excited. So now, when she hears the door, she fetches the socks right away. And whimpers.”

  I started to laugh.

  Edda looked at me, wagging her tail and continuing to whimper. My laughter started Nina off, and we could hardly control ourselves. Still whimpering, Edda rolled over on her back.

  A little later, Nina wiped the tears from her eyes and blew her nose.

  “I could always order takeout from the Italian restaurant; then I wouldn’t have to leave Edda alone again so soon.”

  By now, the dog had calmed down and spat the socks out. After two short barks, looking at Nina, she sat down in front of me and laid her head on my knee. I found Edda captivating.

  After Nina had ordered two pizzas with rocket and Parma ham, she opened a glass of red wine, put glasses on the table, and sat down on a chair opposite me. I couldn’t hold my question back any longer.

  “Tell me, Nina, it’s perhaps a little indiscreet of me to ask, but how much do you have to earn to be able to live like this?”

  She laughed and looked at me briefly. “I don’t have to earn it. The apartment belongs to me; it’s my divorce settlement.”

  I really did pick the wrong man, I thought to myself.

  Nina poured the wine and carried on talking.

  “I was with my ex-husband for twenty years in total, and we were married for fifteen of those. We lived in Kiel; Karsten studied there and then started working in the university clinic. I worked in the bookstore. We had a house together, were in a tennis club, went on vacation twice a year—everything was wonderful.”

  She took a sip of wine. Her face became hard all of a sudden.

  “Then I found out that Karsten was having an affair with one of his colleagues. I didn’t actually mind, and so I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want anything to change.”

  I listened to her, gripped. My own story was becoming less and less original.

  Nina looked at me, and there was an angry furrow between her eyes.

  “I’m not naïve. Of course the initial intensity is gone after twenty years, but that’s not what it’s about. It was my life. I liked the house, our circle of friends, our daily life. As I said, I didn’t want to change anything. But then his fancy woman got pregnant; Karsten had to tell me about it and said he wanted a divorce. He never wanted children. But she was determined. I mean really, a doctor and no idea about contraception! I don’t think it was Karsten’s idea to leave me.”

  I had an uneasy feeling. “Are they still together?”

  Nina snorted. “They’ve got a practice together now, and they got married because of that. They don’t fit together at all. I’ll be interested to see how long it lasts.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “The last five years.”

  Before I could answer, the delivery man from the Italian restaurant rang the doorbell.

  We sat down at the table. For a while we ate in silence. Then Nina suddenly asked, “How did we get onto all that?”

  I thought about it. “Oh yes, the apartment being a divorce settlement.”

  “Right.”

  Nina smiled contentedly as she talked. “My brother-in-law is a lawyer, so we really put the pressure on Karsten when it came to the divorce. I got a test to say I couldn’t work anymore for psychological reasons, and that he had to support me. We didn’t have a prenup. He wasn’t happy about it. But I wasn’t prepared to let my standard of living go down the drain just because that idiot was fucking around. So we took him for everything he had, and in the end he had to pay me one big lump sum. For tax reasons he bought this apartment and wrote it over to me. That’s all there was to it.”

  I pushed my plate aside, leaving half the pizza uneaten. I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  I tried to change the subject.

  “When I first moved to Hamburg I wanted to give you a call, to get tips about single life here. You seem to have everything under control. But I lost my nerve.”

  Nina looked at me in astonishment and then laughed bitterly.

  “Me? I hate single life. The apartment’s too big for me, and I only ever meet married men who sleep with me a few times and then go back to their wives. I answer personal ads and meet men who want to have their fun but no relationship, and the men I get to know on club holidays I never hear from again. I’ve had enough of it, Christine, just enough! I want to be woken up in the morning by a man kissing me, not from the noise my dog makes when she throws up.”

  I was shocked by her outburst and searched for something to say.

  Nina must have been just as shocked as me. She smiled, embarrassed, and said quickly, “And my dog throws up a lot.”

  I forced myself to smile. The embarrassed silence was broken by the telephone ringing. Nina spoke to her office quickly and then came back, saying with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m sorry, that was my friend who normally looks after Edda when I’m away. She usually picks her up, but she can’t today because she has a visitor. I have to drive Edda there.”

  I was relieved at the unexpected end to the evening.

  “Nina, I’m ready to turn in myself. Thank you for the meal and the game of squash. Let’s talk on the phone. I’ll get the train; it’ll be quicker.”

  I was happy to shut the door behind me. And yet I felt guilty for feeling that. I heard Edith’s voice.

  Don’t be like that; you’ll get to that stage too. Just you wait, before long you’ll be just as desperate for a man as she is.

  Charlotte held her own.

  Nonsense, you never had it so good in the last years with Bernd as you do now. You’re completely different from her.

  I hoped she would turn out to be right.

  Dirty Money

  A fat old woman raised her liquor glass to the camera. She gave a toothless, happy grin, while a speech bubble proclaimed, “You did it!”

  I turned the card over. “Today is August 11. The half year is up. Best wishes, Marleen.”

  What a sweetheart. She had remembered.

  I laid the card on the pile of mail, shut the mailbox, and climbed up the stairs to my apartment. It was Friday at lunchtime; I was home early and had the whole weekend ahead of me. With my first customer this morning I’d written the date on the order form. August 11. That’s when I realized.

  It was behind me now, the first six months that I’d feared so much back in February. I should really celebrate somehow. As I got into my apartment I put my bag in the office, emptied a box of business mail onto the des
k, and laid the small pile from the mailbox next to it.

  I stuck the card from Marleen onto the fridge. The fat old woman toasted me as I opened it. It was actually much too early, but the last half year had been something out of the ordinary. I took a small bottle of champagne out. I had bought it for a special occasion. And that was now.

  As I sat on the balcony and toasted myself, I felt almost daring—and proud and relieved all at the same time.

  Charlotte smiled at me.

  Congratulations. You’re a wonderful woman.

  I thought of Nina; she wouldn’t know this feeling. She’d only be relieved when she could introduce the new man in her life. We had continued to play squash, but we confined our get-togethers to that and a post-match beer. Her bitter search for a man depressed me, and I had declined her invite to accompany her to singles parties. When I laughed after she’d described the “Fish seeks bicycle” party to me, she’d seemed put out.

  As long as I managed to keep her away from the subject of men, I liked her.

  Edith had a go.

  You’re both alone on the weekends.

  I didn’t want to listen to her. Perhaps I should invite Luise to dinner. She still had this first half year ahead of her. Three weeks ago she had stood in front of my door, even slimmer than usual, with eyes swollen from crying. “I didn’t know where to go. Can I come in?” We sat in the kitchen late into the night drinking red wine.

  Luise had tried for weeks to figure out her feelings for Dirk, whom she lived with, and Alex, whom she longed for. She had booked a weekend away at Hidden Lake and surprised Dirk with it.

  “We used to go there all the time when we were first together, deeply in love, and always flat broke. It was always amazing. I wanted to do everything I could to be sure that I still wanted to live with Dirk. I thought I could get that old magic back.”

  They didn’t find the old magic. Instead, they spent the weekend pretty much in silence.