Christopher Kloeble - Almost Everything Very Fast

The car pulled to a stop in front of their semidetached house, for which they’d recently made the down payment, in Osterhofen, a neighborhood of Königsdorf that borders the moor, and Klondi got out and carried Marina in her little basket through the garden, taking no notice of the pink banner above the front door that read CONGRATULATIONS!!! , waited for Ludwig to let her in, then brought Marina into her room with its green walls. There Klondi unwrapped Marina, tossed the basket and everything else that had been in contact with her out onto the porch, and washed Marina again with her own hands. Maybe they hadn’t done it thoroughly in the hospital. Gently she ran the sponge across Marina’s skin and through every fold, speaking to her, explaining to the little whiner that she was sorry, it had to be like this, but not to worry, it would all be over soon. Then she dried Marina off and wrapped her up in towels that had been washed with their own usual detergent, line-dried in their garden, stored in their linen closet, and she carried Marina into the living room, where Ludwig was waiting, the sweetheart, though at the moment she couldn’t spare a thought for him, he could look as confused as he liked, there were other things to worry about, and she sat down on her chair in the solarium, which she’d arranged there because during her pregnancy she’d thought how nice it would be to sit in this chair with its view of the garden and a couple of houses and the expanse of moor, and suckle her daughter, and Klondi opened her blouse and lifted her breast from the bra and smelled Marina and clutched her breasts and smelled her again and stood up and passed her daughter to her husband.

The marriage held out for another seven months.

In 1976, Marina, five years old, discovered a slightly bitter-smelling bridal gown in a box of rags in the basement of the house where Ludwig was now living alone. Later on, Ludwig told Klondi that their daughter had insisted on wearing the dress, even though he, Ludwig, had explained that it was much too big and old for her. Marina merely stamped her feet and said that Mama would certainly have let her do it, and moreover, at Mama’s house she could stay up as late and eat as much chocolate as she wanted. Ludwig, whom this hurt more than he could show, did not reply that Mama took care of her only on the weekends, Mama had left her behind, Mama loved her from the depths of her heart, but not enough to actually be a mother to her. Instead, Ludwig said, “That’s just Mama.” And Marina said, “Mama is much nicer.” And Ludwig said nothing.

A couple of days later Marina wore the dress out. When she showed it to Klondi, Marina proclaimed that it was moon-white, Ludwig had taught her that, moon-white , and Klondi, who wanted to make an effort to do her part as a parent, said, “White is the brightest achromatic color.” “Moon-white,” said Marina, “sounds much prettier, though.” The dress’s shoulders were covered with ruffles that Ludwig had had a seamstress work up from cuttings of its fine old material. For that, Marina had given Ludwig an extra kiss, she told Klondi, even though it scratched a bit because he didn’t shave regularly.

Klondi saw her limited skills as a mother confirmed by the fact that it had never occurred to her that when she sent her daughter “home,” Marina might not, in fact, go home. Even today, she explained to Albert, she often imagined what had happened next. Klondi knew that her daughter had wandered through the village, showing her dress to everyone she was acquainted with, and even to those she didn’t know at all, telling everyone her father had given her this dress because he loved her so terribly much, even though it was actually much too old and big.

It had been midsummer, and because the shadow thrown by the church was particularly cool, Marina had presumably decided to go there. She knew the way well enough, Ludwig always took her with him to Mass. The people there always became very serious very quickly, and Marina found this funny. Marina skipped past the church entrance and pressed herself against the cool walls, maybe she even licked the salty stone with her tongue, the way Klondi had shown her, and that must have been the moment when she caught sight of the old oak tree on Wolf Hill. Marina knew that, for Klondi, it was the loveliest tree there was, because it was just as big as a tree ought to be, with leaves just as green as leaves ought to be. Before Marina was born, Klondi and Ludwig had walked there together all the time. But after the separation, Klondi preferred to walk alone. Anyway, she had more than enough trees in her garden.

Marina ran to the oak, excited, yet there was a certain oppressive feeling in her belly, too, because she knew that her parents, especially Ludwig, wouldn’t want her to climb a tree in a dress, definitely not one this new, and moon-white to boot. But Marina was five years old, she believed that from up there you’d be able to wave to climbers on the mountains, and sailors out at sea, all she had to do was be careful and nothing would happen. And now she was climbing the old oak, she knew precisely which branches would bear her weight, and which were the quickest pathway to the canopy. Marina was a talented climber. In no time at all she’d reached the thin upper branches and looked around and was so entranced by the radiant colors of the church’s rose window opposite her on the Segenhügel that she didn’t notice the pastor leaving that same church with a battered briefcase under his arm. On this sort of hot day he tended to walk with a stoop, as Klondi had noticed, but on this particular afternoon he actually stumbled, as he later explained, when he stepped on one of his own shoelaces, and as he was standing again after having retied them, he glanced up and saw Marina in the crown of the oak, much too high, and in his terror he let his briefcase fall, took off at a run, and shouted as loudly as he could for her to come down.

At first, Marina didn’t hear him. But then, when one of the cries of the pastor, who had meanwhile reached the dip between the Segenhügel and Wolf Hill, finally reached her ear, she turned with a jerk. At which point a pair of branches broke: the one she’d been gripping with her hand and the one on which she’d been standing. The pastor made it to the base of the oak. Marina fell with a short, high shriek. And stopped short, suspended. The frills on the shoulders of her dress had been skewered by a branch, and Marina dangled like a ripe fruit among the oak boughs. That seamstress who’d altered the old bridal gown into Marina’s moon-white dress would curse herself later — the old-fashioned ruffles had smelled so pleasantly of dried flowers that she hadn’t had the heart to replace the almost antique material with new fabric.

When the ruffles tore, Marina didn’t scream a second time. Maybe because she thought she’d gotten off with a simple scare. She hit the ground a few feet in front of the pastor.

When it was time for the burial, the whole community gathered at Königsdorf’s cemetery, which had never been so lively. Klondi didn’t know how to act, she wanted to take Ludwig’s hand, but he wouldn’t let her. No one gave her a friendly glance, they all thought it was her fault, and all of them sympathized with Ludwig, who had lost a daughter. Why would they feel anything for Klondi? Everybody in this one-horse town knew she’d withdrawn from her role as mother, that she’d wanted little to do with Marina. They thought: she’s probably glad. Klondi couldn’t reveal to anyone that there was, actually, something to that. Naturally she would have done anything to save Marina’s life, naturally she would have traded her own life for her daughter’s, naturally she cried herself to sleep every night, naturally she’d started smoking weed again — yet for the first time she felt that strange happiness she’d been waiting for since Marina’s birth. She’d loved her daughter, she could see it only now that she was standing by her grave, she was grateful for every day she’d spent with Marina, and if someday she should succeed in showing this happiness to Ludwig, then maybe he’d forgive her and take her hand.