expression.
“I’m not sure whether squash is the right thing for my old body. I’m forty now…maybe I should just stick to going for walks.”
I untied my sneakers. “We should just play more often, that’s all. I hurt all over too, but it was really fun.”
Nina pulled her T-shirt—emblazoned with the slogan “The Best of the North”—over her head and threw it in her sports bag. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail, looking at me.
“You’ve been playing for years, haven’t you?”
For a moment I saw Antje before me in her sports gear.
“I used to play regularly with a girlfriend. But I haven’t for the last year.”
Antje and I used to meet up every other weekend to play squash, but in that last year she’d allegedly had problems with her knee and had cancelled again and again.
“Nina, you play well; you didn’t exactly seem like a beginner either.”
In the meantime she’d gotten out of her sweaty gear, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked up her shower things.
“Twenty years of tennis, that’s enough. It didn’t used to hurt so much.”
She laughed and disappeared into the shower.
We’d bumped into each other in Bremen the week before. She was just coming out of a bookstore that I had my next appointment in. We both had half an hour to kill and went for coffee. She asked if I’d settled in well, and we talked about the journey, about the packed schedule of appointments.
“The thing that most annoys me is how sedentary the job is. You’re sitting in the car all day, and with customers, and then at the desk or on the sofa in the evenings.” Nina laid her cookie back on the saucer. “I’d love to take up sports again, but there’s so little time in the week for training.”
She looked at me. “Do you do anything?”
“Not at the moment, but I used to play squash.”
She was immediately excited. “That’s great, let’s play together this weekend. I’ll book us a court and pick you up.”
She wrote it in her appointment book, snapped it shut contentedly, and ate the cookie.
Now we were sitting, freshly showered and with blow-dried hair, in the bar that belonged to the sports center. We could see the squash court below us through the tinted glass panes. Nina wrinkled her forehead and looked down. “Oh God, that means everyone could see me sweating away.”
My gaze fell on two young girls, twenty at most, who were at least ten kilos overweight. They moved clumsily and slowly; it looked like it was their first squash session. “Well, take a look at those two. They’re half our age and it seems like they’ve never played sports before.”
Nina followed my gaze.
“My God, such spring chickens and so inflexible. We look an awful lot better than they do.”
My arm was shaking from exertion, so much so that I had to hold my beer glass with both hands. Nina watched me, looking pleased.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s done in. But seriously, can we do it more often? I really enjoyed it.”
I drank and put the glass back down. Only a few memories had come up while we played. I’d thought it would be much worse.
“I’d love to. It did me good.”
For a few minutes we watched two men who were locked in an unbelievably quick volley on one of the courts. When they stopped, Nina turned back to me.
“Are you getting used to big city life?”
“Yes, little by little.”
I didn’t feel inclined to tell her about the dismal early days. Particularly as I still had dark moments now and then. She, on the other hand, seemed so self-confident and assured.
I wasn’t expecting her next question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I looked at her, amazed. “I’ve only been separated for six months. I couldn’t even imagine having one at the moment.”
The two men had started playing again. They hit the balls with strength and impressive speed. I found their technique sensational, and I held my breath during a particularly difficult volley.
“I’m not sure whether squash is the right thing for my old body. I’m forty now…maybe I should just stick to going for walks.”
I untied my sneakers. “We should just play more often, that’s all. I hurt all over too, but it was really fun.”
Nina pulled her T-shirt—emblazoned with the slogan “The Best of the North”—over her head and threw it in her sports bag. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail, looking at me.
“You’ve been playing for years, haven’t you?”
For a moment I saw Antje before me in her sports gear.
“I used to play regularly with a girlfriend. But I haven’t for the last year.”
Antje and I used to meet up every other weekend to play squash, but in that last year she’d allegedly had problems with her knee and had cancelled again and again.
“Nina, you play well; you didn’t exactly seem like a beginner either.”
In the meantime she’d gotten out of her sweaty gear, wrapped a towel around herself, and picked up her shower things.
“Twenty years of tennis, that’s enough. It didn’t used to hurt so much.”
She laughed and disappeared into the shower.
We’d bumped into each other in Bremen the week before. She was just coming out of a bookstore that I had my next appointment in. We both had half an hour to kill and went for coffee. She asked if I’d settled in well, and we talked about the journey, about the packed schedule of appointments.
“The thing that most annoys me is how sedentary the job is. You’re sitting in the car all day, and with customers, and then at the desk or on the sofa in the evenings.” Nina laid her cookie back on the saucer. “I’d love to take up sports again, but there’s so little time in the week for training.”
She looked at me. “Do you do anything?”
“Not at the moment, but I used to play squash.”
She was immediately excited. “That’s great, let’s play together this weekend. I’ll book us a court and pick you up.”
She wrote it in her appointment book, snapped it shut contentedly, and ate the cookie.
Now we were sitting, freshly showered and with blow-dried hair, in the bar that belonged to the sports center. We could see the squash court below us through the tinted glass panes. Nina wrinkled her forehead and looked down. “Oh God, that means everyone could see me sweating away.”
My gaze fell on two young girls, twenty at most, who were at least ten kilos overweight. They moved clumsily and slowly; it looked like it was their first squash session. “Well, take a look at those two. They’re half our age and it seems like they’ve never played sports before.”
Nina followed my gaze.
“My God, such spring chickens and so inflexible. We look an awful lot better than they do.”
My arm was shaking from exertion, so much so that I had to hold my beer glass with both hands. Nina watched me, looking pleased.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s done in. But seriously, can we do it more often? I really enjoyed it.”
I drank and put the glass back down. Only a few memories had come up while we played. I’d thought it would be much worse.
“I’d love to. It did me good.”
For a few minutes we watched two men who were locked in an unbelievably quick volley on one of the courts. When they stopped, Nina turned back to me.
“Are you getting used to big city life?”
“Yes, little by little.”
I didn’t feel inclined to tell her about the dismal early days. Particularly as I still had dark moments now and then. She, on the other hand, seemed so self-confident and assured.
I wasn’t expecting her next question. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
I looked at her, amazed. “I’ve only been separated for six months. I couldn’t even imagine having one at the moment.”
The two men had started playing again. They hit the balls with strength and impressive speed. I found their technique sensational, and I held my breath during a particularly difficult volley.
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