Ingo Schulze - New Lives

She slept until eight, and declared she hadn’t slept that late in years. At breakfast she said that the pictures had all turned out jiggled.

Robert spent all of Sunday with us. And on the drive to the train station, Mamus said she was glad to learn that the family would all be back together again soon.

Should I try to make you jealous? Do you know who visited me on Friday? My handsome Nikolai! 315Suddenly there he stood, in the middle of the office, smiling, practically melting with smiles. But not to worry, he’s built a family around himself too — Marica, “pretty as a picture,” as Mamus would say, a Yugoslav, who, when she wasn’t ordering her two girls around, talked about what all Nikolai had told her about me. Sometimes she has the impression, she said, that she knows more about me than about him. Nikolai left for the West in ’84, to Bielefeld, where his father had settled. He took technical courses, something to do with electronics, and is making “good money,” as Marica puts it. At any rate they drive a huge Mercedes, big as an official limo, that makes my LeBaron look like a toy. We hadn’t heard anything from each other in seven years.

Johann will be starting with us in August. Franziska has finally agreed to check in to a clinic, their apartment will be ready in September, it’s to mark a new start for both of them.

With love, your Heinrich

Friday, June 8, ’90

Dear Jo,

I apologize if my most recent letter left you feeling uneasy. Please believe me that your job was never in jeopardy for a moment. But I thought it best to let you know what’s what.

You can’t imagine the incredible hysteria and acrimony. I had no choice, I had to pull the emergency brake. Even now, after all the garbage dumped on me, the separation still leaves me feeling more disheartened than gratified. Things could have gone so well for us. We would have been invincible. Toward the end Jörg himself saw he had overshot his mark, but he already lacked the strength and courage to rescind his decision. Now he’s suffering for it. No wonder, given all the missed opportunities.

Since I wasn’t prepared to submit to his dictate I had no choice but to do precisely what Jörg proposed was my only recourse, that is, together with the baron, to launch a free paper financed by ads. 316

Do you know what happened when I informed Jörg and Marion of my decision? They demanded “their share” back. At first I didn’t even grasp what they meant. I was sitting at the computer beside Frau Schorba and could hear Marion and Co. squawking in the next office — instead of using my name, they referred to me only by pronouns. I wasn’t expecting good news when Jörg came in.

“I have just one question,” he said. Was I prepared to repay my share, which had been given me gratis?

“Which is to say,” I said as softly as possible, “I should pack my things and go?” No, that’s not what he meant, Jörg said, rubbing the back of his neck. I gave him plenty of time. But when he just went on massaging his neck, I asked him how he pictured the situation.

He didn’t know himself, he said just as softly, but it couldn’t go on like this. I pleaded with him one last time to let me do a free paper.

Jörg, however, repeated that there was no way we could expand, especially not at this critical juncture.

“The money’s there!” I cried, and pointed to the stack of ads. “It’s there!”

“Are you going to give back your share?” he asked.

“And what do I get in return?” I asked.

“So just as I thought,” he said with a bitter laugh. I asked what “just as I thought” meant. But he had already ducked out of my office. Shortly thereafter Marion stormed in like a Fury. She called me Herr Türmer. To be on a first-name basis with someone like me was an insult. And then she really let loose. She even called me a thief, and a shadow of a man. I was a shadow, nothing more than a shadow. I have no idea what she meant. They would do anything to be rid of me.

“There’ll come a time when you’ll regret saying such things,” I said. My reply was in reference to their ruining the paper. I said it with great sadness. But Marion screeched, “And now he’s threatening us!” And pointed her finger at me: “He’s threatening us!” Jörg came bounding in and forbade me to harass his wife like this. And it went on and on like that. How disgusting! Jörg and Ilona tried to calm Marion down by laying into me. I’ve never seen such bogus theatrics on a stage. Frau Schorba sat there next to me like a block of ice. In all the excitement Astrid the wolf started barking. Even ever-silent Kurt can’t take it anymore and wants to quit.

So now I’ve come to an agreement with the baron, and am transferring my share in the Weekly to him. He figures it’s worth thirty thousand D-marks — if Jörg can come up with the money, then of course he has first right of purchase. Which means we’re starting fresh again and will use the thirty thousand for computers, printers, layout tables, a pasting machine, a camera, and a car — Andy offers the baron better deals than he does us. The baron’s going to deposit the other thirty thousand in a checking account so that we can stay in the black. Until we can become a limited liability corporation, Michaela will once again be my official partner, which is not without its humor.

It’s an ideal solution inasmuch as the baron will not only be our chief negotiator but will also necessarily have a strong interest in the success of both papers, which obliges everyone to cooperate. For now we’ll share our present office space. And for the time being the sales reps will be working for both papers, which means that — at the baron’s strong urging — there’ll be a discount for advertising with both. In principle we’ll be doing everything just as I had planned, except we’ll be keeping two sets of books and will have to almost double the staff.

Frau Schorba is, of course, coming with us. I can do without the rest of them. You’ll be the editor for Altenburg, Pringel has applied for Borna/Geithain, where it’s unlikely anyone will recognize him as a “Red scribbler.” But we should decide that together.

The biggest problem is distribution. We need to be in every household.

The baron is looking forward to meeting you. There are days when I never see him at all. If he isn’t assisting his people in opening new branches, then he’s busy with his “Boniface hobby.” He’s planning a show, an open-air spectacular, that is evidently dearer to his heart than anything else. Andy’s wife, Olimpia, is his right-hand woman for the project. The rest of us know nothing except for vague hints. And he’s using his reliquary to wangle the Madonna away from the Catholics. He’s constantly cracking jokes — some of them rather off-color — about it all.

Because of the old man upstairs I’m never without my flashlight. I don’t want to encounter him in the dark at any rate. Last Monday he unscrewed all our fuses.

We’ve lost another hostile neighbor, however. As I was passing the hardware store today on the way to my car, the whole family came out. I greeted them and then turned away to look straight ahead. Then I heard my name called. The hardware lady came right up to me. She has a firm handshake. It was a little premature to be saying good-bye, and it made her a little sad too, because we had all actually got used to one another, but this seemed like a good opportunity. Her husband also gave me his hand. “Well, yeah,” he said, “it’s jist about over.”—“You’re not giving up, are you?” I asked. All three nodded.

“Yep, yep,” she said. They had started drawing their pensions in the spring, and there wasn’t a red cent to be made out of a shop like theirs anyway, why should they keep on slaving away. 317They looked at me as if they had said it just to test my reaction. Before I could put together an answer she reminded me of the free ad I had once promised them. I renewed the offer. The sooner they’re out of there, the sooner we’ll be able to move our ad office into their space.