Juli Zeh - Decompression

He said I shouldn’t imagine I was getting away with anything, because everybody, but everybody, knew what had happened, and no one believed it was an accident. And therefore I could count on getting what was coming to me, one way or another, sooner or later, and it made no difference if I packed my things and pissed off like a cowardly dog. People had contacts, people were connected, and they’d make sure I couldn’t work anywhere in the world. At least, not as a diving instructor. I was a danger to the clients, he said, and a disgrace to the sport. In other words, he was looking forward to the day I’d leave the island, and he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Just to let me know, he said.

The expulsion from paradise. There could be no response to such a rant. And so I left him standing there, a stocky fellow with a five-day beard and a pleasant, weather-beaten Scottish face. I didn’t care about any of that. I didn’t care about him . I should have seen what an asshole he was a long time ago.

That evening I called Antje and congratulated her. She started to cry. She said she’d always wanted us to have a child together. Ricardo was a nice guy, but she’d loved only one man in her life, namely me. I took care to sound as cheerful as possible. I told her how well pregnancy became her. I said everything had turned out all right in the end. I suggested we could see each other in Germany when she went home to visit her family. Antje was still sobbing a little, and she kept repeating, “Ah, Sven.” But she sounded more wistful than desperate.

Now that I’ve finished writing, waiting is hard. I often spend a whole day not knowing what to do with myself. I’ve decided against flying. Instead I’m going to put my few belongings on a cargo ship and accompany them back to Germany. The voyage to Hamburg takes fourteen days, departure is early next week. I’m looking forward to the journey. I no longer understand how I could have taken this island for something special. It’s a place like any other. War isn’t a geographical phenomenon.

This morning I googled Jola’s name and wound up looking at a gossip magazine’s website. The headline read, “Jola Pahlen: Dream Wedding with Writer!” Below, a photograph of her and Theo. They looked reciprocally radiant. Jola had her dark hair done the same way as she had that evening on the Dorset , braided into a crown. A pair of spectacles I’d never seen before was perched on Theo’s nose. The brief article reports that “Bella Schweig” has announced her engagement to the writer Theodor Hast. Rumor has it that the pair will go on an Arctic expedition in order to be married at the North Pole.

Right after reading that, I went to the web page of a real estate agency that specializes in vacation homes and listed the Casa Raya and the Residencia at a bargain price. I don’t know why, but I can’t bear the sound of the surf anymore.

Juli Zeh’s debut novel, Eagles and Angels , won numerous prizes, including the German Book Prize. She has worked at the United Nations in New York and Krakow, and currently lives in Brandenburg. Decompression is her fourth novel.