know, but ... I mean, I realize it isn't just women that do it
with their tongues. Men do it too, and everyone enjoys it - everyone
but me. And it never stopped. I thought it would be best if I went
for a swim. It would have looked like an accident. Gereon needn't
have felt guilty. That's the worst of it when someone dies - people
blame themselves. They can't rid themselves of the feeling they
could have prevented it. I wanted to spare him that. If the child
hadn't stopped me, nothing would have happened. I'd have been
long gone by the time she wound that tape on ..."
Still with her eyes shut, she started to thump her chest with her
fist. A note of hysteria came into her voice. "It was my tune! My
tune, and I can't stand hearing it. The man didn't want to hear
it either. Not that, he said, give me a break! He knew I fall into a
hole when I hear it - lie must have known. He looked at me, and
he forgave me. I could read it in his eyes. Father, forgive her! She
knoweth not what she doth.
"Oh, my God," she sobbed. "Father, forgive me! I loved you all.
You and Mother and ... Yes, her too. I didn't want to kill anyone.
I wanted to live, to lead a normal life."
She opened her eyes again, glared at him and shook her finger in
his face. "Remember this: it was all my fault. Gereon had nothing
to do with it, nor did my father. Leave my father in peace. He's an
old man, he's suffered enough. You'll kill him if you tell him."
In his own way, Father tried hard throughout those years. Even
though I disappointed him a hundred times and gave him a
thousand reasons to despise me, he never stopped loving me.
And he did something for me that no other father would have
done.
I don't mean what he did on my birthday that time, when I was
lying in bed feeling hungry and he came in swearing to himself.
Although even then he did something for me. When he saw I
wasn't asleep yet, he perched on my bed and stroked my head.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I was furious with him. If he hadn't given me that stupid bar of
chocolate I'd have had a bowl of soup. "Leave me alone," I told
him and turned on my side.
But he didn't leave me alone. He took me in his arms and rocked
me to and fro. "My poor little girl," he whispered.
I didn't want to be a poor little girl. I didn't want a birthday
either, just to be left in peace. "Leave me alone," I said again.
"I can't," he whispered. "One unhappy daughter is enough.
I can't do anything for her, that's the doctors' responsibility, but
you're mine. If you hold out for another half-hour, Mother is
bound to go to sleep. Then I'll bring you something to eat. You
must be as hungry as a wolf."
He sat on my bed for more than an hour, holding me in his arms,
and this time he didn't tell me anything about the old days. Mother
was still down below, praying for the last time that day. It seemed
an eternity before we heard her climb the stairs at last. She went to the bathroom. Soon afterwards the bedroom door closed behind
her. Father waited a few more minutes before he stole downstairs.
He returned with a bowl of soup. It was only lukewarm, but that
didn't matter. When the bowl was empty he put it on the floor, then
felt in his pocket for something: the rest of the chocolate.
I didn't want to take it, honestly not, but he broke some off and
stuffed it into my mouth. "Go on," he said. "Don't worry, you can
eat it. You can if I say so. It isn't a sin. I'd never encourage you to
commit a sin. You needn't be afraid that Mother will notice. She
thinks it's outside in the dustbin." So I couldn't help it.
The next day Magdalena was worse, and the day after that her
condition deteriorated still more. Father insisted on taking her to
the hospital. Mother didn't agree, but this time Father got his way.
They set off very early in the morning.
I'll never forget that day. Mother returned at lunchtime - alone,
in a taxi. Father had remained at Eppendorf with Magdalena
to have a
with their tongues. Men do it too, and everyone enjoys it - everyone
but me. And it never stopped. I thought it would be best if I went
for a swim. It would have looked like an accident. Gereon needn't
have felt guilty. That's the worst of it when someone dies - people
blame themselves. They can't rid themselves of the feeling they
could have prevented it. I wanted to spare him that. If the child
hadn't stopped me, nothing would have happened. I'd have been
long gone by the time she wound that tape on ..."
Still with her eyes shut, she started to thump her chest with her
fist. A note of hysteria came into her voice. "It was my tune! My
tune, and I can't stand hearing it. The man didn't want to hear
it either. Not that, he said, give me a break! He knew I fall into a
hole when I hear it - lie must have known. He looked at me, and
he forgave me. I could read it in his eyes. Father, forgive her! She
knoweth not what she doth.
"Oh, my God," she sobbed. "Father, forgive me! I loved you all.
You and Mother and ... Yes, her too. I didn't want to kill anyone.
I wanted to live, to lead a normal life."
She opened her eyes again, glared at him and shook her finger in
his face. "Remember this: it was all my fault. Gereon had nothing
to do with it, nor did my father. Leave my father in peace. He's an
old man, he's suffered enough. You'll kill him if you tell him."
In his own way, Father tried hard throughout those years. Even
though I disappointed him a hundred times and gave him a
thousand reasons to despise me, he never stopped loving me.
And he did something for me that no other father would have
done.
I don't mean what he did on my birthday that time, when I was
lying in bed feeling hungry and he came in swearing to himself.
Although even then he did something for me. When he saw I
wasn't asleep yet, he perched on my bed and stroked my head.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I was furious with him. If he hadn't given me that stupid bar of
chocolate I'd have had a bowl of soup. "Leave me alone," I told
him and turned on my side.
But he didn't leave me alone. He took me in his arms and rocked
me to and fro. "My poor little girl," he whispered.
I didn't want to be a poor little girl. I didn't want a birthday
either, just to be left in peace. "Leave me alone," I said again.
"I can't," he whispered. "One unhappy daughter is enough.
I can't do anything for her, that's the doctors' responsibility, but
you're mine. If you hold out for another half-hour, Mother is
bound to go to sleep. Then I'll bring you something to eat. You
must be as hungry as a wolf."
He sat on my bed for more than an hour, holding me in his arms,
and this time he didn't tell me anything about the old days. Mother
was still down below, praying for the last time that day. It seemed
an eternity before we heard her climb the stairs at last. She went to the bathroom. Soon afterwards the bedroom door closed behind
her. Father waited a few more minutes before he stole downstairs.
He returned with a bowl of soup. It was only lukewarm, but that
didn't matter. When the bowl was empty he put it on the floor, then
felt in his pocket for something: the rest of the chocolate.
I didn't want to take it, honestly not, but he broke some off and
stuffed it into my mouth. "Go on," he said. "Don't worry, you can
eat it. You can if I say so. It isn't a sin. I'd never encourage you to
commit a sin. You needn't be afraid that Mother will notice. She
thinks it's outside in the dustbin." So I couldn't help it.
The next day Magdalena was worse, and the day after that her
condition deteriorated still more. Father insisted on taking her to
the hospital. Mother didn't agree, but this time Father got his way.
They set off very early in the morning.
I'll never forget that day. Mother returned at lunchtime - alone,
in a taxi. Father had remained at Eppendorf with Magdalena
to have a
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