“How was your Christmas, then?”
“Tom and I don’t really celebrate Christmas,” Maggie said. “In America, it just seems a terrible excuse to shop. Well, I shouldn’t say we don’t celebrate it. I worked in a soup kitchen that day.”
Eva had a flash of Krista with the skinheads.
“And I was with my family for some of the day. I guess what I mean is, Tom and I didn’t buy lots of useless gifts for everyone. You know, partake in the materialist gluttony. That we didn’t do.”
“Aber deine Eltern haben dir doch bestimmt etwas zu Weihnachten geschenkt, no?” Elena asked.
“Yes,” Maggie answered in English. “They gave us money to give us a start here in Berlin.”
“Wie erfreulich für dich!” Elena said and then finished her beer.
“I know,” said Maggie. “I’m grateful. I’m grateful to be here.”
She has changed, thought Eva. Five years ago, she would have been shy and reddened when Elena teased her. Now she stood firm.
Elena and Eva ate the sandwiches quietly, from plates on their laps. They all drank another beer and then looked at Elena’s studio, at her long, funny sculptures, partly figurative, partly vegetal. Tom, in particular, was impressed. And then Elena showed them their room. They looked greedily at the bed. The four of them stood in the doorway.
“You must be tired,” said Elena. “I will leave you to get settled and have a nap. Ja?”
“Later this week, you must come to my apartment for some coffee,” added Eva, as she took her leave. “Or we could meet at a café.”
“I want to see your neighborhood. We’d love to come for a coffee to your apartment. I have so many memories from visiting you five years ago. I want to see it. I’m sure it’s changed so much, the neighborhood, that is.”
“It has changed.”
“Berlin just feels different, just from coming to the airport to here. The Wall being down . . .”
“Yes, it is a time of change. But I trust our leaders.”
“Ah, Mutti, this talk of trusting politicians! Enough!” Elena said.
Maggie and Tom looked at each other.
“We’ve heard good things about Kohl,” said Maggie.
“I’m with you, Elena. All politician are crooks,” said Tom.
Eva reached for her daughter’s arm. “Let’s go, Elena. Schlaft gut! We’ll see you soon then.” She didn’t want to talk of politics now. She hugged her niece again and put on her coat. Elena walked out with her mother.
“Let’s have one more beer, Mutti. To celebrate.”
Eva could feel the beers already. But it was a special day, the day Maggie arrived. At this point, she was not going to do anything else with her day, not run errands, not clean her room. “Okay. Warum nichts? One more beer, at a nice tavern.”
Elena teased her. “Okay, Mutti, lover of nice things. You pick the tavern.”
They walked along the Ufer of the canal. The sun was not out, but the sky held some light. Often, this time of year, it could be so dark all day long. With her daughter next to her, Eva felt a certain lightness inside as well. Perhaps it was Elena’s step—a loping gait, her hands always stuffed deep in her pockets, her head bobbing with her long strides. Eva picked a tavern with very clean windows and crisp tablecloths and food announced on a chalkboard. Inside, it was all dark wood and warmth.
Elena ordered a mug of beer with a brandy on the side, and Eva had some soup and a glass of wine.
“I don’t know what I think of Tom, eh, Mutti?”
“Elena, give him a chance. He just got here. He has jet lag.” Her daughter, who loved her father more than anything, now seemed to hate all men.
“Yeah, but his skin is so pale. Like he’s sick.”
“Sometimes, airplanes make people sick. Give it some time,” Eva said.
“They’re only staying until they find their own place. My guess is, Maggie will find a place and a job quickly. She has that energy, the energy of someone who accomplishes a lot. Like Liezel had, I suppose,” Elena said.
Eva sat quietly after that comment. The soup had warmed her. It was true, Maggie was like her mother. A determined person. But she loved Eva, Maggie did. Eva knew this, that her niece loved her in ways that her own daughter didn’t. Sometimes distance made things less complicated. A niece can love an aunt without the same baggage that a daughter loves her mother.
Their table was next to a window onto the street, and she looked out at the people walking by. It was a beautiful day, truly. Perhaps this is God’s way of blessing Maggie’s arrival, thought Eva. Yes, it seemed to be a sign.
The check came and was enormous. Eva was hoping to pay for the whole thing, but she had to ask Elena for money. Elena would make extra money this month, she reasoned, with Tom and Maggie paying her for the room. Still, it embarrassed her.
“It doesn’t matter, Mutti. It’s no problem,” Elena said, counting out the marks for the bill. “I know how small your pension is. I feel like taking the U-Bahn back with you, okay?”
“Okay, Elena, but you don’t need to. I’m fine. It’s the middle of the day. It’s not dangerous, you know.”
“I know. I just feel like riding with you back to your place. What else am I to do? I want to leave Maggie and Tom time to settle, to sleep in peace.”
“You can go back and work in your studio. They won’t bother you.”
“I don’t like to work with people around. It’s no problem. I’m not worried about it. Today is special. They just arrived. Soon, they’ll be running all over the city, getting jobs, getting an apartment. I’ll have time alone in the apartment, I’m
