Palandt?
Who… the hell… is Herr A. Palandt?
In the past she wouldn’t have given the matter a thought, but now her ignorance gave free rein to her darkest fantasies, which frightened her so much that Emma was on the verge of tears.
Teufelssee-Allee 16a?
Wasn’t that the left-hand side of the street, three or four houses along, just around the corner? Hadn’t old Frau Tornow lived there alone for years? Not…
A. Palandt…?
She knew everybody in the area, but she’d never heard his name before, and this unleashed a general feeling of helplessness inside her.
She’d been living in this small cul-de-sac for four years now. Four years since they’d bought the far-too-expensive property, which they’d only been able to afford because Philipp had inherited some money.
‘You want me to take it?’ Emma asked, without touching the package.
It was wrapped in normal brown paper and the edges reinforced with sticky tape. Two lengths of fibrous string were tied around the package, forming a cross on the front. Nothing unusual.
Apart from the name…
Herr A. Palandt?
‘Please,’ Salim said, inching his hand with the package closer to her. ‘I’ll pop a note through his door to say he can pick it up from you.’
No, please don’t!
‘Why not?’ Salim asked in astonishment. She must have spoken her thoughts out loud.
‘Those are the regulations, you see. I have to do it. Otherwise the package isn’t insured.’
‘I understand, but today I’m afraid I can’t…’
‘Please, Frau Stein. You’d be doing me a huge favour. My shift is almost over. For a very long time, I fear.’
For a very long time.
‘What do you mean?’
Emma unconsciously took a step backwards. Sensing her anxiety, Samson sat up beside her and pricked up his ears.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not getting the sack or anything like that. It’s good news for me Naya and Engin.’
‘Naya’s your wife, isn’t she?’ Emma said, confused.
‘That’s right, I showed you a picture of her once. For the moment there’s only an ultrasound thing of Engin.’
A cold draught blew through the door, fluttering Emma’s dressing gown. She froze internally.
‘Your wife’s… pregnant?’
The word weighed so heavily inside her that she could barely get it out of her mouth.
Pregnant.
A combination of eight letters that had a completely different meaning today from half a year ago.
Back then, in the time before, the word represented a dream, the future, it was a symbol of joy and the very meaning of life. Today it merely described an open wound, lost happiness, and spoken softly sounded similar to ‘never’ or ‘dead’.
Salim, who’d clearly interpreted her visible bewilderment as stunned delight, was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Yes, she’s in her sixth month,’ Salim laughed. ‘She’s already got a belly like this,’ he added, making the corresponding gesture with his hand. ‘It works brilliantly with the admin job. You know, office work? The pay’s better, but I’ll be sorry not to see you any more, Frau Stein. You’ve always been really nice to me.’
All Emma could say was, ‘What wonderful news’ in a rather monotone voice, which made her feel ashamed. In the past she’d responded with enthusiasm to every baby announcement amongst her acquaintances. Even when some of her friends started asking why it was taking her so long, and whether there was a problem. She hadn’t once felt envious, let alone bitter, just because it hadn’t worked immediately for her and Philipp.
Unlike her mother, who became really irate when others revelled in their delight at being pregnant. The unexpected miscarriage when Emma was six had changed her. And her mother never fell pregnant again.
What about now?
Now was the time afterwards; now she could understand her mother’s bitterness.
Fecund? Feck off!
Emma had turned into a different person. A woman with a sore vagina who knew the taste of latex as well as the feeling of vibrating steel on her shaven head. A woman well aware that a single, fateful event could change or even kill off all emotions.
Nice.
She thought of the last thing Salim had said and something occurred to her.
‘Just wait a sec, please.’
‘No, please don’t. It’s not necessary, really,’ Salim called out after her. He knew what she had in mind when she instructed Samson to sit by the door.
To guard the delivery man too.
In the living room she noticed she was carrying the small package by her chest; she must have taken it from Salim after all – Christ!
Now it’s in the house.
Emma placed it next to her laptop on the desk, which stood in front of the window that looked onto the garden, and opened the top drawer. She rummaged around for her purse that hopefully had enough for a tip she could give Salim as a parting gift.
The purse had slid into the corner at the very back of the drawer, which meant she had to take out some papers obstinately stuck in front of it.
A letter from the insurance company, bills, unread get-well-soon cards, brochures for washing machines and…
Emma froze as she saw the flyer in her hand.
She was desperate to turn her gaze from the glossy photo.
Bzzzzzz.
A buzzing started up in her head. A loud buzzing. She felt the vibrations on her scalp. It immediately started itching. She wanted to scratch herself but there was as little chance of doing that as there was of freeing herself from the vice that was keeping her head in position and forcing her to stare at the flyer.
Philipp had taken down all the mirrors in the house so that Emma didn’t have to be continually reminded of that night by looking at her ‘haircut’. All scissors and razors had been banned from the bathroom.
But he hadn’t thought about a simple flyer that came with the paper.
Hand-held appliance with stainless-steel blades. Only €49.90. With hair-cutting function! Save on your hairdressing bills!
Emma heard a soft click, which always preceded the avalanche of her nightmares, right before they fell from the precipice of her soul.
She closed her eyes. And as Emma collapsed to the floor she fell into the rats’ nest of her memories.