Ingo Schulze - New Lives

I’ve learned from Nicoletta (short, brunette, with cornflower blue eyes, and unflattering but expensive glasses, she knows everything, can do anything, and does it, but basically is more helpless than a child, always afraid she’ll miss out on something, and thankful just to get any “job” she’s hoping that with the help of the Lindenau Museum she can pursue a career in art history) 163—from Nicoletta I’ve learned that he must have a skeleton in his closet, at least he’s not allowed to do business on his own and works through a whole network of straw men. Did you know anything about that? But this flaw only adds to his attraction, at least for poetic souls — as best as I can read them — especially for Johann. He downright lusts to hear about mysterious, inscrutable types who have a finger in every pie, and are successful at it, whether in business or with the ladies […] And when I describe Barrista’s limp, Johann regards it as somehow diabolical and talks about his “dark luster.”

Even Michaela couldn’t hide the fact that her tirade against Barrista was really just the reverse side of her curiosity — that she couldn’t wait to be introduced to him. And so I found it quite amusing to watch how quickly Barrista won her over.

Before he kissed her hand (and later on he would rave about her hands), before she was seated at the place of honor at our table — yes, more or less even as she was making her entry into the restaurant — the two of them were already playing their game. He likewise knows how to work an audience, without ever casting it a glance.

The baron handed us what he called the “bill of fare,” on which he had had the hotel print in gold lettering: “In honor of the rebirth of the Altenburg Weekly and in honor of Michaela Fürst and Marion Schröder.” Inside was a list of six courses, on the left in French, on the right in a German translation — that makes an impression.

Wasn’t this laying it on just a bit thick, Michaela asked brusquely, only to immediately announce how happy she had been to accept his invitation. But first she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget to thank him for the splendid flowers, which in their own way were as seductive as the names of these mystifying dishes.

Marion jumped in to say that she had not yet expressed her thanks for the largest cyclamen in all of Altenburg.

“When it comes to flowers,” Michaela resumed, “no one can hold a candle to Herr von Barrista.” I was strangely touched to hear his name coming from her lips. From then on everything was really quite clear.

During the main courses he entertained us with travelogues. In the fall he always flew to the U.S., to the East Coast for lobster. He described the inns, the little harbors, the various landscapes and the play of light, pumpkins in the fields, red foliage…His narrative was as vivid as it was lively, and without interpolated questions it flowed along like nonstop dinner music, wrapping itself around me as I basked in my dreams of you.

When we got up from the table, the baron laid a hand on my shoulder — the restaurant had long since closed, tables were being set for breakfast — and asked if we would like to finish off this extraordinary evening with a nightcap. The bar wasn’t worth much, but he had done some upgrading over the past few weeks. It would make a happy man of him if he could put a cocktail shaker to good use for us. “Why not?” Michaela responded like a shot out of a pistol.

“Well, that’s an answer!” the baron said in triumph. An arm linked mine, and I found myself in the bar at a table that was just being cleared.

The baron dedicated the next minutes to me with something very like fervor. More than the words themselves, I recall the pleasant, almost tender lilt of their melody. Yes, he literally wooed me. And I realized: He isn’t nearly as old as he seems, he’s much younger!

When I woke up, Michaela and the baron were snorting and giggling. Except for a couple of waitresses and a man as thin as a rail bent over empty glasses at a neighboring table, we were alone.

“We were just talking about the theater,” he said, as if I had just returned from a brief trip to the restroom. With one hand on my knee, he leaned over to me. I could smell his unusual perfume. It was five a.m. — which for me is relatively late. 164

He pried us into his car. Michaela chattered away, giggling to herself. As we rode along I tried to support her head from behind — it kept slipping off the headrest whenever we took a curve.

As we got out, she sank into my arms. I felt like her footman.

No sooner were we in the apartment than nausea brought her to. She was so weak I had to brace her forehead above the toilet bowl.

“Are you jealous?” she asked, and apparently thought she ought to gaze especially meaningfully into my eyes. I begged her not to kneel on her dress and tried to help her out of her coat. She reached into her coat pocket and held up an envelope. “That’s how much my name is worth,” she cried, “one thousand dee ems!” She was to receive the sum monthly as manager of Fürst & Fürst Real Estate.

When we were counting out the money later and I asked her if she knew what she was getting herself into, Michaela said that she trusted me, after all I had taken her with me, he’s my friend, that was the only reason she had agreed — only to add a little later: “He’s so ugly! Don’t you think he’s incredibly ugly?”

Do you think he’s ugly?

Kisses,

Your Heinrich

[The following handwritten lines are on a separate page and undated. Since the preceding letter was written early in the morning, immediately after their return from the Wenzel, one can presume this should likewise be dated April 12th. According to V. T., they both arrived by fax.]

Michaela had a miscarriage this morning. She immediately went to the hospital, I didn’t learn about it until several hours later. Maybe it would have been better if I never had — but of course that’s nonsense. I feel it’s my fault for dragging her with me to the Wenzel. I can’t understand how Michaela hadn’t noticed anything — surely she must have known! It can only have happened in Offenburg, nowhere else.

Michaela didn’t even want to be comforted, she’s very cool and collected. In a show of tenderness, the hospital put her in a room with three women who had just had abortions, there were no other beds available.

In a certain sense we’re both grateful that we didn’t have to face that decision. Which is why we don’t talk about it. Robert seems to be the one who’s saddest.

Verotchka, my dear sister! H.

Good Friday, April 13, ’90

Dear Jo,

Friday the thirteenth. I’m sitting here in my bathrobe, drinking coffee, and enjoying the quiet. I can’t remember what I wrote to you in my last letter. 165

On Wednesday the baron invited us to dinner yet again. There were several things to celebrate — our new building, my new position, Barrista’s real estate firm.

No sooner had we arrived than he spotted Michaela and couldn’t keep his eyes off her after that. I really believe he was surprised to suddenly see me right behind her.

Marion, who made a special trip to the hairdresser, looked more severe in short hair. She was wearing a lot of makeup and a muted red dress that pinched her under the arms. Jörg also seemed out of place in a gray suit that was a little too large on him.

Barrista, who was in the best of moods, cleared the long side of the table just for Michaela and asked Jörg to move down a seat, and then seated himself in his spot. He placed me next to Marion, who was already showering Michaela with compliments. The far side of the table was left empty.