Eva looked at the envelope. The coffee and the pills were working now, and she could think clearly. It wasn’t from her sister, Liezel. It was from her niece, Maggie, her sister’s daughter. Maggie had lived in West Berlin for a summer in the eighties. She’d studied at the Goethe-Institut off the Ku’damm and lived in Kreuzberg, near where Eva’s own daughter lived. Eva had gone to visit her a number of times—her Austrian passport allowed this—and Maggie came to visit her in the East, too. She liked this niece. She knew her, unlike Liezel’s other daughters, whom she’d never met.
Krista hovered around, excited.
“It’s from my niece,” she said. “Sit. I’ll read it to you, if you’d like.”
“Oh, yes. I’d like that. I remember her very well.”
One of the times that Maggie had visited Eva, Krista came over. They all drank coffee together and talked. Krista had been so delighted to practice her English, and with a real American, too. It was the first time Krista had met someone from the West. Then, six years ago, it was a very special thing. Americans rarely came to East Germany.
“Die Karte ist auf Englisch,” Eva said. Krista sat upright, her scratched glasses perched on her nose.
“Wunderbar!” said the girl.
“Would you like to read it to me?” Eva then asked. “Your English is better than mine. Read it to me in English, and then maybe I’ll ask you to explain to me things in German I don’t understand, okay?”
“Ja, kein Problem,” Krista said and took the letter from Eva. Eva observed Krista closely, how she gripped the paper unnecessarily hard, how she held it so close to her face, undoubtedly because her glasses were so old and scratched—but also out of excitement. She read at a nice even pace, not slowly. Her English was so good. Eva thought of how hard she must study. Eva wanted to interrupt but she let the girl read straight through. She looked up at Eva once, but otherwise kept her eyes on the thin airmail paper, see-through thin, like an onion skin.
Dear Tante Eva,
How are you? It has been so long since I’ve been in touch and I’m sorry. But I’m sure you understand how our daily lives can take over and then suddenly, years have gone by. I finished with college just a few weeks ago. I went to school in Boston, to Boston University, where I studied political science. I am nervous that school is over and not quite sure what to do with myself. My mother thinks I should apply to graduate schools right away, but I am thinking of traveling some first, and maybe even getting a job and working for a while before going back to school. I want to live in the real world and experience things before going to university again. I realize how fortunate I am to have these choices—most people don’t have the choices and privileges I have, but I think I’d be better at whatever I choose to do in life if I spend some time working. Sometimes, I think I may want to study nursing, like you. Maybe that sounds strange to you—political science and nursing. The connection between the two for me is that I’d like to practice nursing in a foreign country, maybe with Doctors Without Borders—have you heard of them?—or another relief agency.
My mother told me you stopped working recently. How is that going? And the Wall coming down? I’m sure it’s much easier to see your daughter, Elena. I think about you and how kind you were to me when I was in Berlin. I enjoyed that summer immensely.
In fact, I was thinking of returning. Fairly certain I can make it happen. And perhaps getting a job, and maybe even taking some courses at a university in Berlin. My German is still quite good—I belonged to a German-speaking club while in college.
At school, I studied with a man named Howard Zinn. You would like him, Tante Eva. Not all Americans are capitalists. And I read many books by Noam Chomsky. Have you heard of him? He is a linguist and a political activist. I was very moved by both of these men—they taught me a lot about the injustices of capitalism and the “free” world. I just now am reading about Dorothy Day, another American political activist you would like. She’s a Catholic, too! Just like you and Mom were, growing up in Austria.
I worry about you, now that your country has changed. Or do you feel like it is gone altogether?
One good thing—I am fairly certain you’ll get this letter! And it won’t take three months and it won’t have been opened and read by someone else! But perhaps that is little comfort to you.
I also have met a man, whom I love very much. He believes in the things that I do. He may come with me to Berlin. He doesn’t know any German, but he’s very bright—in fact, he’s brilliant in my estimation—and he would learn quickly. You would like him, Tante Eva. My mother doesn’t, as you can imagine.
Anyway, I will keep you updated of my plans. I want so much to see you. I hope you are well.
Viele Busserl,
Maggie
Krista handed the letter back to Eva. She normally wasn’t an excitable girl, but this was something special, and she was noticeably changed. Hope of a future joy, thought Eva, how it can lead to a piercing disappointment! Then Eva shook off that thought.
“Krista, wie gut du Englisch liest!” she said. “Ich bin wirklich beindruckt.”
“Danke,” Krista said. “Ich kann dir gerne helfen, auf Englisch zurück zu schreiben.”
Eva probably could write it on her own, but why not let the girl help her?
“That would be wonderful. When do you think you’d be able to help me?”
“Tomorrow evening?”
“Okay, bis dann,” Eva said, “um vier?”
“Five o’clock would be better, if that’s okay,” Krista said, getting up,
