“I’ll see you in about a week, Mutti. Come here the day Maggie and Tom are due to arrive. We’ll have a small party for my cousin.”
“Wunderbar, Elena. Danke für alles.”
“Danke dir. Du bist so lieb. Meine Mutti, meine einzige Mutti.”
“But of course I’m your only mother! You’re so silly, Elena.”
“Take care of yourself, Mutti.”
Eva resented the tone. “Don’t worry about me. I am more than fine. I’ll see you soon. Tschüsschen!”
No one was on the U-Bahn. That was the first thing that made her melancholy. And then, the weather had turned so dark and cold. A horrible wind blew. It wasn’t yet eleven in the morning and it felt like night.
The skinheads were out on their corner. In this weather, on this important day. Hatless, their leather coats seeming brittle and useless in the cold, they passed a bottle. Clutching the bag that held her scarf and book, she thought briefly of crossing the street. It was Christmas Day, it was only eleven in the morning.
Then, there hiding behind the men, was Krista.
“Krista, bist du das?”
The girl stumbled forward, her head uncovered, her face raw with the cold and alcohol. “Hallo, Eva. Hier, das sind der Kurt, der Peter und der Johann.”
“Aber . . . komm mit mir, bitte. Komm—ich bring dich hoch in eure Wohnung. Your mother is worried about you, I’m sure.”
Johann, the leader, passed Krista the bottle. She swigged it, and breathed out hotly afterward. “My mother thinks I’m at the soup kitchen today. That’s where I spend every Christmas. Every Sunday.” They all laughed. “That’s what my mother thinks.” They laughed so hard, Krista nearly falling over.
“Krista, darling.”
“Our little Krista is celebrating Christ’s birthday with us,” said Johann. He pulled her, and she stumbled toward him.
“Yeah, Eva. Fröhliche Weihnachten,” Krista said and grabbed the bottle again.
“Genug, you greedy girl,” Johann said and pushed her away.
Eva, with regret, began to walk away, leaving Krista with those abominations. “Eva!” shouted Krista. Eva turned and looked at her. The poor girl. It broke her heart. “Don’t say anything to my mother, please? My friends here wouldn’t like that.”
Eva turned around and resumed walking, as fast as she could, but not so fast that she couldn’t help but hear Krista say, drunkenly, “She’s an old cow, that woman. A nasty, dumb cow.”
When she got upstairs, wheezing with the effort, a small brown package sat leaning against the door. It was a miracle no one had stolen it. Where had it come from? There was no mail on Christmas. Eva put her bag down and picked up the package. It was from Maggie. It had been opened. But it was here, for her, intact. Strange that it had been opened; those things didn’t happen anymore. It used to be that all of her mail was opened; that was just how things were. But now? It must have been someone in the building. Maybe she could find out by asking the postal worker for their building. Maybe he would know. Her heart sank. It probably had been Krista.
She poured herself a brandy. Yes, it was early, but it was Christmas. She wasn’t going to make it to an early Mass, but she would make it to an evening one. Inside was a Nina Simone record: I Put a Spell on You: Nina Simone in Concert. And a letter from her niece. She read it alone, without Krista helping her. She never really needed Krista’s help, but she wanted to be kind to the girl. Krista calling her a dumb cow. She was drunk. She was trying to impress the skinheads. Eva contemplated telling her mother. Even though Krista was drunk, Eva still was hurt. Krista was good to her. But still, maybe Eva should make some distance from her.
She read the letter.
Dear Tante Eva,
I know I am going to see you soon and you asked me to bring you a record, but I thought I’d try and send you one for Christmas. Fröhliche Weihnachten! Nina Simone records are not as easy to come by as I thought, although her CDs are very easy to buy. I think I may have to get you a CD player. Of course, you may be like my dad, who dislikes the CD very much. He claims they sound inferior to the vinyl record. He still only listens to records! Anyway, we can talk about that all very soon!
Mit viel Liebe,
Maggie
Christmas Day. What a gift. The day itself, her daughter’s kindness the night before. She could put Krista out of her mind. She could pray for Krista. Say Our Fathers and Hail Marys.
She put on the record. She listened to Nina Simone sing to her man that she loved, begging him not to let some other man take her, handle her, drive her mad.
Oh, the suffering of others. Krista was suffering too. Suffering was the birthright of all of mankind, but perhaps more for some.
Chapter 18
The day came for Maggie to arrive. Elena had gone to the airport, to surprise Maggie and Tom. Eva sat in Elena’s apartment, nervously waiting. It had been so long. She’d been a young teenager, in the real sense of the word, when she was here last. And even though she’d taken herself all over Berlin, studied at the Goethe-Institut, done all of those things alone here, she was still being taken care of by her parents, by her parents’ money. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe Eva was a bit jealous of her privilege. She knew Liezel herself envied her daughter’s privilege; this was ironic, as Liezel was the one providing the economic support, the coddling, the middle-class life, the trips abroad—everything. She wanted to give her children everything she hadn’t had as
