Life After Forty

by Dora Heldt

  My cell rang. The name I’d been waiting for was on the display.

  I pressed the green button and heard the softness of his voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  Edith stayed silent, and Charlotte hummed Dido.

  I had to think for a moment to find the right answer. “I think so, yes.”

  We spoke for a while. Once the conversation was over, I had his voice in my ears and the picture of his face in my mind. He was the best thing that could have happened to me. I felt alive with him. I reminded myself of what Marleen had said.

  “When was the last time someone made your heart pound?”

  It happened all the time now. And it was good.

  “Enjoy what you have. And if it all goes wrong, you can laugh about it in half a year’s time.”

  She was right. Everything would happen as it was meant to.

  The train had come to a halt. So had my thoughts.

  Letting Go

  The church tower clock struck ten as I drove my car into the space in front of the district court. I was exactly one hour too early. I’d allowed myself to be driven mad by one of the sentences in the official summons letter.

  “The personal attendance of the parties is compulsory.”

  It was terrifying, but then I had never had any intention of not being present. As I lay in bed the previous night, horror scenarios had run through my mind. Traffic hold-ups, flooded streets, closed roads, accidents, detours without rerouting signs. I wondered what the consequences would be if I couldn’t be there in person.

  Then I had put the light back on and set my alarm for an hour earlier.

  It wasn’t necessary; I fell asleep around four a.m. and woke up again just before six. Still in my bathrobe, I drank three cups of coffee. When I noticed my hands shaking, I made myself a pot of herbal tea. With my cup in my hand, I then stood in front of my closet for an hour, wondering what kind of clothes were appropriate for an appointment like this.

  First, I went to shower, then drank more tea and smoked five cigarettes. Keeping an eye on the time all the while.

  At around seven thirty I started to get worked up. I was freezing, wearing just my underwear as I searched for something to wear. I finally decided on a gray trouser suit, which I’d bought for the going away party of one of my work colleagues, together with a red blouse. Looking at my reflection in the mirror it occurred to me that red was an aggressive color. So I took the jacket back off, swapped it for a black roll-neck pullover, and put the jacket back on.

  I felt content with what I saw in the mirror. I looked businesslike and grown-up, but on closer inspection I realized I’d forgotten to put my makeup on. Taking the jacket off yet again, I put some on with shaking hands. Hopefully it would only be noticeable close-up that my eyeliner was crooked; it would have to do.

  At eight a.m. I was ready to go and set off in the car. The temperature was almost mild for the end of February, and the streets were clear. It was a dry day, and when I left the highway an hour later driving towards the North Sea, I noticed that the first crocuses were starting to appear in the gardens.

  The worst part is over, I thought, not knowing whether I meant the winter or something else.

  I turned my thoughts to the appointment I had in one of the bookstores at two this afternoon. I had told my other three clients that I would have to postpone due to a private appointment, which hadn’t been a problem. But I would be able to make the two o’clock easily; the booksellers were nice, and it was on my way back. Then it would be the start of the weekend. I wondered what to do, maybe go to the cinema or out for a meal with Luise.

  Edith took a deep breath, so I turned the radio up.

  “Please, not now,” I said, startled that I was speaking out loud yet again.

  The journey had lasted about two hours, as always. As there were no floods or diversions, I now had an hour to kill. My stomach churned. I was unsure whether it was hunger or nerves, but either way it didn’t feel good.

  Opposite the court there was a bakery with a café. When Bernd and I used to go shopping together on the weekend, we would sometimes have coffee there. I locked my car, put my jacket over my arm, and went into the bakery. The woman at the counter was still the same. She smiled at me as I walked in.

  “Hello, well, I haven’t seen you in a long while. How are you? You must be sending your husband off to do the shopping, and quite right too. Cup of coffee?”

  I smiled, strained, and swallowed down an honest answer. She probably didn’t want to hear one anyway. “Yes please, a cup of coffee and a cheese roll.”

  Two more customers came in and put an end to any more chat.

  I balanced my tray on the counter by the wall and stirred my coffee, keeping the district court in my sight. It was a beautiful building, and I’d never noticed it before, but then I hadn’t had any reason to. Today I did.

  Just looking at the slice of gherkin on the cheese roll made me feel ill. I pushed it aside and noticed that the cheese was lighter underneath. My stomach churned again, and it definitely wasn’t from hunger.

  The case about to be heard was a matter of family law. At least, that’s what it said in the letter, which wasn’t a normal letter, but a summons. I didn’t feel like it was to do with me. Bernd and I were suddenly two opposing parties who had been summoned to a divorce proceeding.

  We had fallen in love, moved in together, married, grown apart, hurt each other, and then finally separated. Bernd and I were involved in it all and had made all these decisions by ourselves. And yet suddenly it was a matter of law and we had to justify our decisions to strangers.

  I felt nauseous and dizzy. I left my tray and fled from the bakery. The likelihood of my ever drinking coffee here again was very slim, and it didn’t matter what the woman thought of me. Outside, I took a deep breath. The dizziness started to subside. I looked at the time. Ten twenty. Another forty minutes of being a wife.

  A black BMW with Hamburg plates swung into the parking lot.

  I felt relieved. Rüdiger. I already had my new life; this was all just a formality. It didn’t matter.

  When he got out and came towards me, it became more and more real. I’d never seen him in a suit, and he was carrying a black barrister’s robe over his arm. He stretched his hand out to me. I shook it, feeling my legs shaking. He looked at me.

  “Well, Christine, it’s nearly all over.”

  I took a deep breath. “I had hoped I’d be feeling cooler about it.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “A divorce is a divorce. But if it makes you feel better, I’ve done much worse ones, you know. Yours is relatively simple. Is the opposing party already here?”

  I flinched. “I haven’t seen Bernd yet. Oh, Rüdiger, it all sounds so serious. I feel ill.”

  He grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards the entrance.

  “It is serious, and that’s a good thing. Come on, you’ve done so well so far; don’t give in on me at the last hurdle.”

  At that moment we heard a car horn. Bernd’s car drove in and pulled up next to Rüdiger’s. The passenger door opened and Stefan, one of his sailing friends, got out. I was just wondering why he was here when it occurred to me that Stefan was a lawyer. Bernd’s lawyer.

  Rüdiger and I stayed put. I leaned towards him and said, “The opposing party.” I thought it was silly, and I waited for someone to say, “That wasn’t serious, just a joke.”

  Bernd smiled at me and seemed alarmingly familiar in this strange scene. Then it seemed to occur to him where he was. His facial expression became forcibly serious. Stefan looked embarrassed. Just a year ago we had been socializing together.

  Rüdiger diffused the situation. With practiced professionalism, he gave Stefan his hand and introduced himself. He nodded briefly at Bernd, then looked at his watch and said, “Let’s go in.”

  I walked up the stairs alongside Bernd. Apart from an awkward hello, we hadn’t spoken to one another. We followed our lawyers. I observed myself, then Bernd.
He looked just like he always did; he was wearing the blue shirt that I’d bought him for his last birthday. I wondered whether he even realized. The courtrooms were on the first floor. We stopped in front of courtroom twelve. Rüdiger fell in beside me, and Bernd went to stand alongside Stefan. There were about five meters between us. I forced myself not to look at Bernd, positioned myself with my back to him and looked at Rüdiger. I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Rüdiger nodded to me. “It will all be quick. Don’t worry, just leave it all to me.” As he spoke, he pulled his robe on. I nodded to him thankfully. Then froze. The door was flung open and a young woman called our names out. Rüdiger went into the room first with me following. It looked like a proper courtroom, only smaller and shabbier. My lawyer sat on the right-hand side, pulling a chair alongside him for me. As I sat down, I felt myself shaking.

  The four of us sat silently in this strange room for several minutes. It was unreal.

  Then another door was opened up and the judge appeared. Rüdiger tapped my elbow, and we stood up briefly before sitting back down again. As the judge began to read out our names, talking about the facts of the case, the state of affairs and legal positions, alimony, the right to appeal, and family law licenses, my thoughts started to wander. I heard Rüdiger say something, looked at Bernd, then Stefan and the judge, but I was somewhere else entirely. Rüdiger nudged me throughout; I had to say yes twice. I did it without knowing why.

  The judge read out his statement into a Dictaphone. After every paragraph he played the recording back in order to repeat his comments. The speed of the tape must have been set wrongly or was faulty because the voice sounded like it was on helium.

  Suddenly I found the situation so absurd that I felt a fit of laughter swelling within me. Rüdiger noticed and touched me lightly. “Almost over,” he murmured. I pulled myself together and noticed from the corner of my eye that Bernd was watching me. I didn’t return his gaze. Then we had to stand up; I didn’t know what to expect.

  “The following verdict is now pronounced. In the name of the people…”

  I struggled for air and only heard snippets of sentences. “…concluded in front of the registrar…the marriage of the parties is dissolved…the value of the proceedings…”

  I was divorced in the name of the people. I looked at Rüdiger, then across at the other side. I didn’t know what to think. It hadn’t even lasted half an hour, as long as a short movie. The judge shook the lawyers’ hands, nodded briefly to Bernd and me, and then left the room through one door while we went through another.

  We stopped in the hallway, hesitating. Stefan was the first to speak. “Shall we go out for coffee perhaps?”

  I stared at him. Surely that kind of thing only happened in the movies.

  Rüdiger was quicker. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Christine? Do you have time? Would you like to?”

  I had no idea.

  Bernd pulled his jacket on. “Yes, come on, I’ve got time for a quick coffee too.”

  Like a lemming, I followed Rüdiger. We walked two blocks to where there was a small bistro, one I had been to once with Marleen. After we’d got our drinks, Stefan and Rüdiger talked first about the judge, then about the court. Then Stefan looked at me.

  “So how are you? Have you settled into Hamburg?”

  My feeling of numbness was slowly subsiding. “Yes, I have. It’s all worked out wonderfully.”

  Bernd looked at his watch and then at me. “Are you driving straight back?”

  “I’ve got an appointment on my way back.”

  Rüdiger laughed. “Always so hard-working. You’re not slacking off even today?”

  I had no desire to explain how this had been hanging over me and that my appointment was the only way I could think of for getting some normality back in the day. So I just nodded.

  Rüdiger looked for his briefcase. “I have to make a move now though. Marleen and I have been invited to a wedding, and I need to pop back to the office first.”

  Stefan waved him aside. “Put your money away, I’ll get this.”

  We waited for the bill and then got up to leave. Rüdiger and I walked a few steps ahead. He leaned over to me. “Now it’s behind you. Is it a good feeling?”

  I tried to figure out how I felt. “I’m slowly starting to feel relieved, yes, really good, I think.”

  He winked at me. “You see. Now, I really have to make a move and see whether the couple at this evening’s wedding make a better job of it! Come on, that was just a joke. You could even marry again right away if you want to; it’s all legal now.”

  Stefan and Bernd were standing next to us. Rüdiger shook their hands, then got into his car and drove off. I said goodbye to Stefan, who was climbing into Bernd’s car. Bernd seemed a little awkward.

  “So, Christine, take care. Let’s speak on the phone sometime.”

  He leaned forward clumsily and kissed the air next to my ear.

  Unspeakable, I thought. And I felt a little sad.

  I noticed that he was watching me as I walked over to my car. Sitting in my car and driving towards Hamburg, I waited for the waves of emotion to take hold. But nothing happened. The hearing just felt like it was some movie I had seen. The unreal feeling was still there. It had nothing to do with my real life; it had just been a formality. The hurt, the grieving, the fears, and new beginnings had all taken place a year ago. Away from the prying eyes of the “people” and the court. I felt light; I was happy to have finally drawn a line under it all.

  An hour later I drove into the parking lot at the bookstore. I wasn’t exactly on time; I’d underestimated the weekend traffic. As I walked into the shop, the otherwise lovely bookseller seemed annoyed.

  “I cut my lunch break short especially for this meeting, and then you arrive half an hour late. That’s so unlike you. I’m a little irritated, to be honest.”

  I apologized, unpacked my paperwork, sat down at the table, and smiled at her.

  But she wasn’t done. “And it’s not just that—something went wrong with the last order. Mrs. Peterson wanted to discuss it with you, but she wasn’t able to wait. That’s not good either.”

  I wanted to stay polite, but the nerve-wracking demands of the day were slowly taking their toll. My voice remained calm.

  “Mrs. Schmidt, I’m half an hour late. I am sorry, but I really couldn’t make it any sooner.”

  “Then you shouldn’t arrange your appointments so close to one another.”

  I still stayed calm. “There wasn’t any other way around it today.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I guess it was some big chain bookstore. You don’t care about the small booksellers—it’s fine to be late with them.”

  “It was a court case.”

  “What?”

  “I had my divorce hearing at eleven a.m. In the name of the people. I’ve come directly from there.”

  Mrs. Schmidt started. She opened her mouth, shut it again, sat down slowly, put her hands to her cheeks, and looked at me guiltily.

  I was almost sorry to have shocked her like this. Hurriedly, I said that it had just been a formality, the separation was a year ago, and I was doing fine. But she wanted to know more anyway. I answered in a friendly way, and it sounded like I was talking about one of the books I was presenting to her. “It was the banal story of two people who fit together for a while and then realized they’d made a mistake. And who then separated unspectacularly and without any major drama. The divorce was just like the marriage itself.”

  The appointment lasted two hours. By the end Mrs. Schmidt had calmed down and I was back in my normal life.

  On my way back home I thought about the banal story. You really could describe it like that. We had made a mistake. It’s just that we didn’t notice for the first few years, as we still had shared goals back then that glossed over it. Bernd’s studies, my job, our first vacation, our first purchases, the house. When all that was accomplished, all we had left was each other. And that hadn’t b
een enough for either of us.

  I thought about Richard. We weren’t seeing each other as often anymore because of my work schedule and his appointments. But when we did see each other, it was amazing. I’d never had such intense evenings and nights with Bernd. There were however strict rules, which meant that he was only there for me during the week in Bremen and not contactable at other times.

  Sometimes I found playing by these rules difficult, and sometimes the longing was stronger. When I was away from him I would think now and then of Franziska and feel alone, but then Charlotte would remind me of my boring and conversation-less marriage.

  “What you have with Richard is still miles better, even if you don’t have it that often. And in any case, the rest of your life is just as great.”

  Usually, I would then give Luise or Dorothea a call.

  I drove past a highway sign: “Hamburg, 49 km.” I was divorced and lived in Hamburg. That sounded good. I was surprised at how lighthearted I felt. The divorce really hadn’t unleashed any great emotions. I dialed Luise’s number. After four rings the answering machine kicked in. I tried her cell. Turned off. I was a little baffled; I thought she had the day off, and she knew that today was my court hearing.

  I tried Dorothea. She answered immediately, but sounded in a rush.

  “Hello, Christine, I’ll call you back later. I’m in a meeting at the moment, bye.”

  I was a little disappointed. She hadn’t even asked how it went.

  Edith couldn’t hold back. So where’s this new life of yours? Not a peep from Richard, nor Luise or Dorothea. Great.

  I dialed Ines’s number. Answering machine. Then Marleen. Her son answered the phone.

  “Hello, it’s Christine. Is your mother there?”

  The annoyed voice of a seventeen-year-old answered me.

  “Nah, Mom’s gone shopping I think, no idea when she’ll be back. Bye.”

  He hung up.

  I was divorced and there was no one around to tell. My light feeling started to fade. Nina wasn’t contactable, and Leonie had her answering machine on too.