Julia Franck - The Blind Side of the Heart

Helene sat at the table rubbing her eyes. She felt dreadfully tired. She still had to wash Wilhelm’s shirts and put the sheets through the mangle. There were bones for soup in the cool larder cupboard under the windowsill. A little air bubble inside Helene burst. Wind? She hadn’t eaten anything to give her flatulence. Perhaps it was the baby. Was this how it felt when a baby started moving? My child, whispered Helene. She put her hand on her belly. My child, she said, smiling. There was no way out of it now, she was going to have a baby. Perhaps it would be nice to have a child? Helene wondered what the baby would look like. She imagined a little girl with dark hair, hair as dark and eyes as bright as Martha’s, and an inscrutable smile like Leontine’s. Helene stood up, put Wilhelm’s shirts in the big boiler and placed the boiler on the stove. Then she washed carrots, scraped them, and put them in a pan of water with the bones. A bay leaf and a little pepper. Helene peeled the onions, stuck them with a clove and put them in the pan with the bones. She scrubbed the celery, cut it in half and stuffed it in between the carrots and bones. Finally she washed the leek and the parsley root. She mustn’t forget the leek later. She didn’t like a leek to soften in the soup overnight, and then disintegrate next morning as soon as she tried to fish it out.

Wilhelm didn’t come home until Helene was asleep. Next day was Sunday, and when he didn’t mention the baby of his own accord, Helene told him, unasked: It will come at the beginning of November.

What will? Wilhelm was cutting up his bread and jam with a knife and fork, an oddity that Helene had only recently noticed. Did he feel that her hands soiled the bread she cut for him?

Our baby.

Oh, that. Wilhelm chewed noisily; you could hear the sound of his saliva. He munched for a long time, swallowed, and put down the knife and fork.

Another cup of coffee? Helene picked up the coffee pot to pour him more.

Wilhelm did not reply, as he often forgot to do, and she refilled his cup.

Do you know what I think…?

Listen, Alice. You’re expecting a child, all right? If I said yesterday I was glad then I am glad, do you hear? I’m glad you’ll soon have some company.

But…

Don’t interrupt me, Alice. That really is a bad habit of yours. We don’t belong together, as you know for yourself. Wilhelm sipped some coffee, put down his cup and took another slice of bread from the basket.

He must mean the two of them as a couple, their marriage, he as husband and she as wife. Something about the coming child seemed to upset him. If Helene had assumed he was glad of it, obviously he was glad of it only for her sake, for the prospect of her having company and not bothering him any more. But he wasn’t pleased about the child for himself. There was neither pleasure nor pride in his face today. Was it the connection with her impure race that he didn’t like? Helene knew he would lose his temper if she suggested that out loud. He didn’t want to talk about it, particularly not to her.

Don’t look at me like that, Alice. You know what I mean. You think you have me in your power? You’re wrong. I could inform on you . But you’re expecting a child, so I won’t.

Helene felt her throat tighten. She knew it was unwise to say anything, but she had to. Because I am expecting a child? I am expecting your child, our child.

Don’t get so worked up, for God’s sake, shouted Wilhelm, and he slammed his fist down on the table, making the cups and saucers clink.

You are the child’s father, Wilhelm.

So you say. Wilhelm pushed his plate and saucer aside; he didn’t look at her. There was more indignation and self-righteousness in his voice than dismay. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. A look of contempt came into his face. Although who’s to say you aren’t sleeping with other men again, you, you…? Wilhelm was on his feet now and couldn’t find a suitable term of abuse to hurl at her. Bitch — could he really not think of that? His lips were firm and you could see his teeth in straight rows. He was angry, just angry. I’ll tell you something, Alice. It’s my right, do you hear, it’s my right to sleep with you. And you enjoyed it too, admit it. But no one told you to go and get pregnant.

No, said Helene quietly, shaking her head. No one told me to do that.

Well, there you are. Wilhelm clasped his hands behind his back and paced up and down. You’d better start thinking how you’re going to feed and keep your brat. I’m not prepared to provide for you and your baby on my own.

This was not unwelcome news to Helene. Over these last few months she had so often asked his permission to get a job — she would have loved to work in a hospital again. She missed her patients, the knowledge that what she did helped other human beings, that she was useful. But Helene had no time to go into that now. There was something else she must say, it would make trouble for her but she had to say it. Helene looked up at him. I know why you don’t inform on me. Because you forged those papers, because you can’t inform on me without giving yourself away too.

Wilhelm lunged at her. She raised her hands over her head to protect herself, but he seized her arms, held them tightly and forced her up from the chair. It crashed to the ground. Wilhelm pushed her through the kitchen and up against the wall. He held her there, let go with one hand just to press her head against the wall with the flat of that hand so hard that it hurt. Never say that again, never, do you hear? You serpent. I forged nothing, nothing. Your name was Alice when I met you. It’s no business of mine how you got those papers. No one will believe you, just get that into your head. I’ll say you lied to me, Helene Würsich.

Sehmisch, my name is Sehmisch, I’m your wife. Helene couldn’t move her head, writhe as she might in Wilhelm’s strong grip.

He put his hand over her mouth; his eyes were blazing. Hold your tongue. He waited, but she couldn’t say anything with his hand pressed to her mouth. You’ll keep quiet, is that clear? I won’t say it a second time.

One September evening, Wilhelm had invited two colleagues with whom he was working on the great construction projects in Pölitz to supper. Helene was not supposed to know about their plans for rebuilding, she had only picked up a few things in passing and was careful not to ask Wilhelm any questions. He was probably planning the new design of the whole site with his colleagues. Workers had to be accommodated, the camp on the building site had to have space for whole columns of them. The hydrogenation works needed a building plan which, over and above the chemical processing plant, called for good logistics in the matter of traffic and supplies. Wilhelm introduced Helene to his two colleagues as his wife. At his request she had cooked fresh eel and was now serving the three men sitting at the table.

Beer, called Wilhelm, holding up his empty bottle without turning to Helene. The bottle almost hit Helene’s belly. She took it from him. And you gentlemen?

One of them still had some in his glass, the other nodded. Go on, can’t have too much beer.

My word, Wilhelm, your wife can certainly cook.

Fresh eel, that was my mother’s speciality, the other man said appreciatively.

Everyone’s good at something. Wilhelm laughed and took a good gulp from his bottle. His eyes passed fleetingly over Helene’s apron. Something growing in there, eh? He laughed, and in high spirits reached with one hand for her breast. Helene retreated. Had his colleagues seen and heard? She turned; she didn’t want anyone to see her blushing.

When is it due? His young colleague looked down at his plate as if asking the eel for an answer.