It was true, they came out at the cars so quickly, so stealthily, and they came close. It was dangerous.
“Das sind Huren,” said Krista, her face clouding over. “They get what’s coming to them.”
“Vielleicht,” said the taxi driver, “but I don’t want my car damaged. I don’t want to get in an accident because of them.”
They stopped at a light. A Black woman in red boots walked up to the cab and leaned down toward the window, to where Eva and Krista sat. Krista opened the window and screamed, “Hure! Geh weg! Dreckschwein!”
“Krista, bitte nicht.” Eva leaned over the girl to roll up the window. The woman turned away, unfazed. How many times had people spoken to her this way? Many times, every day, for most of her life, thought Eva. “Krista, that’s no way to speak to anyone.”
The cab driver laughed. Krista said, “They come here and ruin our country.”
“They come here because they have very few choices. Or worse, they are forced to, against their will.”
Krista looked at Eva. “I’m surprised you make excuses for them. But that is how you are. Always kind,” she said, but not with any kindness on her part.
“I can feel for the unfortunate. So can you. So can anyone.”
Krista laughed in Eva’s face, leaning in too close and Eva pushed away from the girl. It was too aggressive, too mean. Eva could smell her so strongly. Then she abruptly turned her head away from Eva. Eva felt herself harden and she didn’t fight it.
“You should wash that sweater, Krista,” Eva said. “It smells terrible.”
Krista turned back to Eva, her face changed. The girl was mercurial beyond belief. One moment all demon, then a startled innocent. “Wie bitte?”
“Wirklich,” Eva said, and plugged her nose with her fingers. “Du riechst schlecht.”
Inside the café, the atmosphere was quiet, even serene. Krista seemed a bit cowed and Eva was pleased. She’d been a child who needed a quick slap on the back of the head, and Eva felt fine in giving it to her. Beethoven played, not too loudly, not too softly, in the background. The lights were soft and yellow, and the long, elegant room was warm. Eva stroked her dress where it lay on her shoulders, silky and cool, and glanced around. They were the first to arrive, and she had been worried about being late. Luckily, there were still some tables big enough to accommodate the entire group. She ushered Krista over to one, not too far from the door but far enough so as not to catch a cold breeze when it opened. It was the perfect table, really.
Krista ordered a beer and Eva just ordered a brandy and water—which she calculated she would need to make last most of the night; perhaps she could have one more drink, but just one—when the others came in.
They were a bit loud to Eva’s ears. Loud Americans. She loved her niece, but hearing her come in laughing and talking to Tom made her wince. Her daughter loped behind them. As they came gliding toward the table, Eva thought, they are so young! They were full of themselves, and the future. They were moist with possibility and arrogance and foolishness. For a moment, Eva envied them, and was proud of them, too.
As everyone settled around the small table, Eva noticed that Maggie and Tom seemed off balance, distracted, as if they were high on something. Eva remembered how Hugo’s friends sometimes smoked hashish, how strange they behaved, how spacey and blissful they’d become. Maggie looked fairly terrible. And she was such a beautiful girl! Maggie’s makeup caked unattractively on her cheeks, unsuccessfully hiding dark purple spots. Her fingers moved quickly and too expressively. Her whole face seemed to move in exaggerated ways. Eva tried to squash her worry and quickly drank down her brandy. She would just have to have one more. She was nervous, worried.
“I’ve brought Krista with me,” Eva said, standing and embracing first Maggie, then Elena. “Maggie, you remember Krista? I wrote to you, too, how eager she was to see you again.”
Krista gave Eva a quick glare. Eva had embarrassed her. She was just doing her best.
“And my daughter Elena. And Tom,” Eva added. Everyone shook hands somewhat awkwardly.
Maggie said, “It’s so nice to see you again. How are you?”
Maggie’s eyes drooped, but her voice was lively. This comforted Eva some. How bad could things be, if her voice sounded so upbeat? Beers were ordered. Everyone was seated.
“I’m doing well. Much has changed since you were last here, and for the most part, I think the changes will be good for everyone.” Her English was so good. Nearly flawless. “But it’s hard, too, this time of transition. My mother is hanging in there. But how are you? You are here indefinitely? That’s exciting, no?”
“Yes. We couldn’t be more thrilled to be here. I’m teaching already, teaching English at a small language institute near the Ku’damm. I have mostly non-German students. And we have an apartment.” At this, they all clinked glasses. “I’m shocked at the rapid changes, too, so I can imagine how you must feel. I remember your mother had health problems. The East was so good at taking care of their people. Tom and I are a bit dismayed to see how quickly the GDR has become impotent politically, or socially, really. We worry about its former people. You. You, Eva.” Maggie looked at Eva. Eva caught her glance and tried to hold it. This was the first time the girl had looked at her, having evaded eye contact from the time she entered.
“Don’t worry about me, Maggie, Liebchen,” Eva said, hearing the sternness in her voice and feeling the warmth of the brandy. “Worry about yourself.”
At this, there was some silence. Tom lit a cigarette and seemed to examine Krista as he blew smoke off to the side.
“I
