Sea Air (34 page)

“What’s so bad about Mathis wanting to finally live his own life?”

“What’s so bad about it?” I stared at Eric, dumbfounded. Hadn’t he understood everything I’d just said? I thought about his exact words for a moment, and then said, “Of course he has a right to live his own life. But he just can’t . . .” I hesitated.

“What? What can’t he do?”

“He can’t just drop everything,” I said, sounding defiant.

“You mean, he can’t just walk out and trade your relationship for a life he chooses.”

“Yes . . . no. I don’t know.” What was with the third degree? I wished he would just tell me what he thought I should do. But Eric wasn’t done asking questions.

“What about you?” he asked. “Have you thought about making changes in your life?”

“Me? Of course, but it’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Isn’t it obvious? My child, my job, my responsibilities . . .”

“You can take your child wherever you go, and you can work anywhere. And as far as your other commitments go—is it possible that they aren’t as pressing as you say, and that maybe you’re just using all this as an excuse not to change your life?”

I was silent.
What the hell does he know about my obligations?
I thought defiantly.

“What are you afraid of, Nele?”

Well, this was getting better and better. “Afraid? I’m not afraid. I’m just . . . confused.”

“Oh, no, Nele—you are afraid. You’re afraid of the unknown. You know what you’ve got now—but where will you find yourself if you decide to leave the old, well-worn path and go down a new one? You don’t know, and that uncertainty scares you.”

“But I’ve done so much in my life already,” I said. “I’ve lived in Paris and in the Caribbean. I’ve left behind my life in Germany plenty of times.”

“Only to return again, every time,” Eric added. “You weren’t consistent, Nele.”

“But people can’t just take off and do whatever they want.” I knew it was a weak defense—and of course, Eric didn’t accept it.

“Where does it say that?” he asked.

“Well, if everybody did that, then—”

“We’re not talking about everybody, Nele. Most people need a steady job, a house, and a family—in short, they need security, the straight and narrow. Like your Steffen. There are only a few people like us. We are the researchers and the explorers—the ones who are curious. We are the people who want to know—”

“What’s beyond the horizon?”

Eric stared at me wide-eyed for a moment. “Yes!” he said after he’d regained his power of speech. He spoke so loudly that the other diners looked around at us. “Exactly! They want to know what’s beyond the horizon. People like us, Nele!”

“I’m not like you,” I said.

Eric laughed. “But, Nele, you’re just like me. I knew it the moment I first saw you on the steps of the Sacré Coeur. You’re curious, and you can’t satisfy that curiosity in one dull town. You’re a vagabond, Nele—just like me. And,” he said with a meaningful look, “just like your Mathis.”

Suddenly my thoughts started to turn and shift. I suspected that Eric was right, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“But I have more responsibility than Mathis does,” I said. “I just can’t pick up and leave. I’ve thought about running away, but I can’t do it.”

“If I’ve understood it correctly,” Eric said, “Mathis is anything but irresponsible. In fact, it sounds like he’s spent the last few decades taking on enough responsibility for two people. It’s no wonder that he’s taking off now—I’m surprised it took him this long, but, better late than never. I, for one, wish him
bonne chance
—good luck. It won’t be easy for him. People are going to beat him up from all sides: his family, his colleagues, his so-called friends . . . and maybe you? Believe me, I’ve been in the same situation, and there was a lot of howling and screaming then, too.” Eric looked pensive for a moment, and then added, “But it’s better for others to scream and shout for a short while than for me to scream and shout for the rest of my life, right?”

What could I say to that? Eric’s words weren’t at all what I expected—or hoped for.

“There’s one thing you should consider, Nele.”

I watched as he furrowed his brow. What was coming now?

“Think about why Mathis wants to take you to Riga. Is it possible that he sees the same thing I see—that you’re a vagabond, just like us? Maybe he thinks it would be best for you, too, to leave your country before it crushes your spirit, like it nearly destroyed his? You’re still young, Nele—you can do anything you want. But this is Mathis’s last chance. If he doesn’t take it now, it’ll be too late—and he knows that. He may even be trying to save you from making the same mistake.”

“And why does he want to take me with him—because he pities me? At first, he said he was going alone.”

“No, Nele,” Eric said. “It’s not because he pities you. It’s because he loves you—so much that he doesn’t want to experience his freedom without you. He knows it’s possible to do this with you, because you think the same way he does.”

“Then I’d have to start all over again.” I stared at my glass.

“
Et alors
?” asked Eric with a wide grin.

We walked the streets of Paris until the wee hours of the morning, Eric frequently pointing out places I’d never been before. From time to time, we stopped for a drink and talked. He told me his life story, and I told him more and more about mine. As the night wore on, one thing became abundantly clear to me. Eric was right: I was a vagabond.

Just like Mathis and Eric, I dreamed about traveling to distant lands, meeting new people, and experiencing other cultures. I was happiest when I was traveling to new destinations. This wasn’t a new revelation to me. But I finally understood that it was exactly this aspect of myself that formed the deep bond between Mathis and me. Like him, I craved freedom and longed to escape the confines of my existence—to see what was beyond the horizon.

The longer I thought about how Mathis had come to his sudden decision to start over, the more I understood. I realized for the first time that, although the failure of our joint business project had been a bitter pill to swallow, it brought with it the gift of a new chance, granted by fate. What would have actually happened if our project had succeeded? Mathis would have been tied up for years working on it, fighting against his own temperament and becoming increasingly bitter and frustrated each year, until sorrow ate him up. Even our relationship would have failed sooner or later because Mathis would have blamed his love for me for trapping him in a life that wasn’t his. I realized that in this, I had failed Mathis. I had let myself be blinded by the outrage of those who wouldn’t or couldn’t understand his behavior, and instead of asking questions, I’d made their outrage my own.

Of all people, I should have known better. All Mathis had done was taken the same step I had dreamed of taking for years. Perhaps the anger I’d felt when Mathis disappeared was fueled by my own disappointment—not with him, but with myself. Mathis was the one who had showed me that things could be different, that a person didn’t have to live out a life plan that was set in stone—that we all had choices. But instead of feeling thankful to him and seeing what opportunities were open to me, I’d made a scene. I had sulked and grumbled, and I’d pushed for an explanation that I shouldn’t have needed. What was it he’d said? “I thought that you, at least, would understand my motives—at least a little bit.” He had sounded reproachful, but even more than that, he’d seemed sad. He had been bitterly disappointed in my reaction to his opportunity for escape. He’d hoped for understanding, and I’d given him tired, middle-class expectations. No wonder his first impulse had been to strike out alone—my reaction had convinced him that he didn’t have my support.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Eric. It was half past six—we’d been talking all night. Street traffic was picking up, and birds were starting to chirp as dawn broke. We stood on the banks of the Seine and watched the water as it rushed by.

“I’ll go to Mathis and apologize.” I now had the feeling that I was the one who owed him an explanation.

“And then? Will you go with him?”

I rested my hands on the railing between the river and us. On the opposite bank, Notre Dame was just beginning to emerge dimly from the morning haze. “I still don’t know.” I shrugged. “You know, understanding Mathis’s decision is one thing. But making the same choice myself . . . I don’t know if I can do it, or—more specifically—if I can do it to my child. Paula loves her friends at her school, and she feels completely happy where we live now. I don’t want to take her home away from her.”

“Paula will adjust very quickly to another place. She’ll make new friends and, most of all, she’ll learn a lot. There’s no better school than the world out there.”

“You make it sound so easy—and you’re probably right. No,” I corrected myself, “I
know
you’re right. But it’s still not my decision alone. This is Paula’s life, too, and I can’t forget that.”

“Of course not. But you know, mothers do tend to lose sight of their own happiness and think only about the happiness of their families—like my mother, for example. She was a born vagabond—a nomad. But she suppressed those longings and stayed home with her husband and children. She sacrificed her freedom for her family. I often saw her standing, lost in thought, as she looked out into the world beyond our window. She seemed so absent; I often asked her if she was sad. She always waved me off, saying, ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me.’” Eric’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Where does your mom live now?”

“She died when I was sixteen. She had cancer.”

My hotel room remained unused for the whole three days I was in Paris, because I stayed at Eric’s. Saying good-bye to him was very hard, and I couldn’t hold back my tears. But Eric just laughed, his eyes twinkling.

“There’s no reason to be sad,” he said. “At least, not as long as you live your life. And it
will
be your life that you live, Nele. I believe that with all my heart.
Bonne chance!”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead as I got on the train, and the cheerful sounds of his accordion stayed with me long after we’d left the station.

C
an I make a pirate diploma on this ship?” Paula asked as we boarded the ferry.

“Quite possibly.” I panted under the weight of my heavy bag. “If not, we can play Parcheesi.”

“Oh, no.” Paula sulked. “Parcheesi is stupid. Let’s play Battleship instead.”

“I’m not so sure that would be appropriate.” I heaved my suitcase into the cab.

“Mathis will be totally happy when he sees us. Right?” Paula beamed at me.

“Mathis doesn’t know we’re coming. It’s a surprise.” This was a spontaneous trip. For weeks, I had been reading up on the Baltic states and considering whether I should take a chance on a new beginning—and every day, I made a different decision. The only thing that didn’t change over all those weeks was my constant longing for Mathis. We spoke with each other over the phone occasionally, but that just made things worse. Once the autumn holidays arrived, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to see him. At the last moment, I purchased tickets for the ferry to Riga, and two days later Paula and I were on board.

“But he’ll definitely be happy because he hasn’t seen us in so long.”

“Yes, I think so, too. Do you think that you’ll like Riga, Paula?”

“Of course I will, if you and Mathis are there. We could have a lot of fun there on vacation.”

My nervousness increased with every hour that we spent on the ferry, and I could have kicked myself for not choosing to fly. If I had, we would have been almost there already! I wondered if Mathis really would be happy to see us and considered the possibility that he’d already gotten used to a life without us. He’d sounded so positive over the phone, as if he’d finally found what he’d been looking for for so long. Would Paula and I fit in there at all? I knew Mathis liked Riga—but would I?

My legs felt wobbly as we walked off the ferry, and I felt terribly nauseous—not because I had been seasick, but because I was so terribly excited. When we finally reached Mathis’s front door, I took a couple of deep breaths, rang the bell, and . . . nothing happened. Mathis didn’t open the door. Disappointed, I sat down on the stairs with Paula. I figured he had to come home eventually, but half an hour later he still hadn’t shown up. I thought about trying his cell phone, but that would have spoiled the surprise. Finally, Paula and I decided to sit in the café across from his building and keep an eye on the entrance. But just as we started to get up, we heard someone come shuffling up the stairs. The source of the shuffling turned out to be an elderly gentleman, and he looked at us with interest.

“We’re waiting for Mr. Hagena.” I pointed at Mathis’s front door. I didn’t realize that I had spoken German until the old gentleman answered me—also in German.

“Mathis is usually on his boat at this time.” He pointed at his watch.

“I don’t suppose you know where it is?”

“Sure, it’s down in the marina—not far from here. If you want to run over there, I’ll show you the way. You can leave your bags here with me if you like.”

I accepted his offer gratefully, and we were soon on our way to the harbor. It turned out to be only about ten minutes from Mathis’s apartment. When I saw the first masts appear ahead of us, my heart started beating harder.

Paula and I didn’t have to search long before we found Mathis’s boat. “There it is,” she cried, waving her arms. “The
Spieker
is back there, near the dock!”

And so it was. I could see it gently rocking on the waves. Paula ran so fast I could barely keep up. Right before she reached Mathis’s boat, she slowed down unexpectedly, and I almost ran right into her. She looked unsure about what she should do. We both scanned the docks, but Mathis was nowhere to be seen.

Disappointed, I sat down on a wooden bench. Paula sat next to me and laid her head in my lap.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled. “Where’s Mathis anyway?”

I stroked her head and looked out over the Baltic Sea. The sun would be setting at any moment—we had to head back. With a sigh, I asked Paula to get up. Just then, a shadow fell over my face. As I turned around, I saw something yellow flapping in the wind. My heart beating wildly in my chest, I raised my eyes to the figure in the brightly colored windbreaker.

“Welcome to beyond the horizon,” Mathis said.

The End