Of course East Germany had its problems, but airing frustration—for which Wolf was known in his work—was considered just plain heretical. Communism was the religion, the only real religion allowed. Wolf was lucky to get out safely. Others had tried to escape. People had disappeared. But Eva didn’t like to think about those things. Not then, not now for the most part, but now, now, she knew that it was cowardly of her.
They had Wolf and Greta and their daughter Nina over before they left. At that point, Hugo knew that his house must be bugged. But what did it matter? He felt he had nothing to hide. He knew he would die a fairly loyal Communist, die there in East Germany. He knew it from the moment that Eva and he arrived. What did it matter that the Stasi, the government, wanted to hear him fuck Greta—or his own wife, for that matter—listening to scratchy, barely audible tapes? Sometimes, he did complain, mildly, to Eva. But never to Wolf or the other disgruntled intellectuals. Around them, he was often quiet and even sometimes defensive of the GDR. This was the country that had saved him from the Nazis! This was the country that educated all of its people, where no one was hungry. No one was without a home or without an education, and everyone got excellent health care. Yet he knew there were things wrong. As the years wore on, the problems became obvious, often painfully so.
“What a waste of human effort, of the short time we have here on this planet. Just a useless folly,” he had sighed, looking older than usual in bed next to her. Eva stroked his coarse hair. His hair was dry, brittle even, now that his gray hair had turned white. “Forcing Wolf to leave. Spending all this time and energy eavesdropping, collecting useless information, and then filing it properly. As if having proper files matters when the information is utterly useless.”
Eva remembered this as she contemplated the jars of smells in the bag. Hugo would say, “To think what this country could be like if the money and time and energy were used in other ways. It’s a tragedy.”
Eva had said nothing. What country wasn’t a tragedy? They had made their bed here, and now they would lie in it. Eva didn’t believe that anywhere else was better. Just different. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep and then, content, she slept, too.
Later she realized Hugo missed Greta more than Wolf when they both defected. She could tell when he missed a woman, when one of his affairs ended. He paced slowly around the house and stopped taking pictures. He drank too much coffee. He even became grumpy and short-tempered with Elena. And yet, he became very kind and needy toward Eva.
“Bitte, Liebchen, würdest du mir einen Kaffee machen?””he’d ask, his eyes a bit droopy and guiltridden.
“Sicher. Kommt gleich,” she’d answer, grateful for his neediness. It was a happy time for Eva. He would always turn to her. Until, of course, he started seeing Mausi. By then, he didn’t turn to anyone, really. It was just the two women, circling a dying man. He never had to ask for anything.
Chapter 23
Maggie and Tom were moving the next day. Elena had called her mother and suggested they all go to Café Einstein together that night, to celebrate the couple’s moving into their own apartment.
Eva was carefully putting on makeup. Bright rouge, mascara. She sprayed herself with perfume, with her 4711. She was wearing the red dress Hansi gave her. On the record player was the Billie Holiday record. She was trying to give it a chance. It hadn’t moved her yet, not like the Nina Simone records. Her voice was too thin, and the songs seemed light in comparison. But she knew she needed to listen to her more, give the woman some time. A knock on the door startled her. Could it be Hans? She couldn’t disappoint Maggie again. She opened the door and saw Krista, a sheepish expression on her pale face, in her purple metallic sweater. She smelled strongly. It is the sweater, thought Eva. She can’t bear to take it off, to part with it long enough to wash it.
“Hallo, Eva.”
“Hallo, Krista. Was ist los?” Eva decided to get straight to the point. She didn’t want to be late. She liked Café Einstein. She hadn’t been there in so long, perhaps not since Maggie was in Berlin in 1986. It had a beautiful garden, but it would be too cold to enjoy it. Regardless, it was a lovely cafe; it reminded her of the cafés of Vienna.
“My mother would like to talk with you, if you have a moment.” She didn’t look at Eva.
“Well, I am about to go out.” Eva felt trapped. “What time is it?” She looked frantically at the wall clock. She had plenty of time. Over an hour before she had to be there. “I have time, I have time.”
She followed Krista into her apartment. It had been many months since she’d seen Krista’s mother. And since she’d seen Krista with the skinheads, she’d been dreading seeing her. It was as if she were lying to the woman, not telling her what she knew about her daughter.
The apartment was slightly bigger than Eva’s but it seemed even smaller, perhaps because two people lived there. Krista’s mother sat in an orange armchair, a radio on next to her. She didn’t seem to notice Eva come in, her eyes were so filmy. She was even heavier now than the last time Eva had seen her, her skin waxy and her neck all folds. She was mostly bald. The sight of her upset Eva, as had been the case for years, which was why she never visited. Shame came over her. This poor woman. And then she thought, and poor Krista, to have to live watching
