Dating : The Meeting

Who needs family anyway…

‘Finally,’ he thought, glancing at his watch.

Arno was granted permission to leave an hour early from his tedious job at a prestigious art gallery. His colleague was puzzled when he was off without saying ‘same shit, different day tomorrow’. Arno had no time for such platitudes today. He was moving hastily but constrained through the colossal building. Stopping himself short from running. The picture in the inside pocket of his faux wool jacket felt as if it was burning.

Along with the one question he hoped to finally get an answer to, after all those years.

Once outside, he welcomed a shot of fresh air and quickened his pace. It looked as if he was running with a very short stride, barely bending at the knees while keeping his arms crossed over his jacket to prevent it from opening. One hand over the picture, pressing it against his chest, to be sure it was still there. He was crossing the bridge now, like he did twice a day, and thought his legs were giving way on him before realising that it was the bridge’s famous wobble that he could feel. At the end of the bridge, he made a sharp left towards the tube station. He was running now. Although there was no need for it. He knew that there was a tube every three minutes, and his destination was only a 15-minute tube ride away, but he wanted to be on time. ‘You never know’ he thought, ‘anything can happen, and she probably will not be happy if I am late’.

She, was his grandmother, Eva. ‘When are these people going to leave me alone’ she thought. Eva sat in her usual spot by the window in her lazy boy. Although there was nothing lazy about it anymore. It hardly reclined, and when it did, it made noises. The leather was no longer supple and was cracked where she sat. ‘Dog owners look like their dogs, and I start to resemble this bloody thing’ She said to no-one. Eva could not be bothered with Arno coming over, not anymore. Not that she needed to do anything or be anywhere. Her own company and the memories of Otto, her late husband, was all that she needed. She became a widow when she was pregnant with Arno’s mother. Times were hard then, and the thought of raising her daughter on her own without accepting any help still fills her with pride. There were plenty of offers of so-called help, but they came with a price tag. A price she did not want to pay. She managed through sacrifice, hard work and discipline.

‘And after all of that, the bitch breeds and marries with one of them’ Eva thought.

‘Otto would never have approved’, she muttered, wiping dribble of her chin with her sleeve.

Not that she did not try. She tried to look past it, to live with it. But the wedding had ruined it all. The birth certificate for the registrar office had exposed the secret, and her daughter could not let it go until Eva told her why. Eva was no longer invited to the wedding after. Eva can still hear the reproach ‘How could you have loved a man like that’ and ‘what is my fiancé’s family going to say’. The thunder of the front door still haunts her sometimes at night. Nobody visited her again, ever.

And now he is coming. The sound of the ringing phone had confused her at first when he called last week. She hardly remembered she had a phone when she picked it up tentatively. When Arno introduced himself, she knew immediately who he was. Although, the last time she saw him, he was only a toddler. Arno told her that he was married now and soon to be a father. He asked if they could meet, to try and re-connect.

Arno was in Eva’s street now. He had worked up a sweat and was getting cold at the same time. The lies, uttered on the phone, were racing through his head. What he really wanted to know was why. His parent’s marriage was not a happy one. He was told that he was the ring boy at the wedding, but he has no recollection of it. He was told that people were dancing in big circles and that there was plenty of laughter. He does not remember that, either. In fact, he does not recall any laughter at all at the wedding, or anywhere else for that matter. What he does remember is when the shouting started, and the sound of crying after his dad left. Never to be seen again. His mother made friends with every bottle she could get her hands on. When he found her debilitated by heartache and sedated by alcohol, he tried to talk to her and understand. ‘Ask your grandmother, she knows’, was all she ever said.

Eva heard the doorbell, another unfamiliar sound. ‘Establish family ties, mein Arsch’ Eva thought while getting up slowly. She opened the door, and her heart stuck in her throat. He looked exactly like her, only a bit taller.

‘Are you here for your mother?’ she asked. ‘How can I ever tell you that your grandfather died during the war because he fell out of his watchtower in that camp’ she thought.