All About Greti by Louis Demers

Author:Louis Demers [Demers, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781784655587
Publisher: Vanguard Press
Published: 2019-08-04T22:00:00+00:00

Block Twenty-Four:

Prelude to When the Shit Hit the Fan

(Six Months Prior)

Greti ran from the outside shower, wrapped in an oversized fluffy towel, dripping water all over the kitchen floor. The phone had rung once before, but she hadn’t answered it since she was in deep reverie, stretched out inside a chaise longue down by the docks. Even now, she cussed as she careened to pick up the phone, her short, shampooed hair in disarray, unrinsed, with soap getting into her eyes.

She was going to have a quick lunch before resuming her tanning session on the lawn. The sun was at its peak, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Heavy black clouds were rolling in over the tall and jagged-edged mountains. Rain was in the forecast and the weather would soon turn cold, as is usual this time of year. It was still mid-morning and boats were already zigzagging the waters of the Königssee. Greti wanted to get back near the dock where her father usually kept his skiff. Right now, though, the space was empty. Daddy was at the other end of the lake, in St Bartholomew, having his own session with the lithe monks. The phone put a wedge in her morning routine.

She had finished a short session at the Art Akademie. Short but hectic. Music appreciation, dull painting classes, photography exam, master class in poetry, thick literature volumes to analyze, essays on the great Romantic composers. She was literally at the end of her rope. Her cup was full to the brim. Any more and she would have fallen apart at the seams.

That’s when she decided to leave München for a few days, maybe a week, or so. Away from her manic life, away from the mindless routine, and especially away from Karl. He had become such a drag lately. Always the old same-o, same-o. Fuck, paint, fuck, paint. A big un-weaned baby. Fortunately, she didn’t have to live with him. She kept her sharp edge by entertaining other like minds in her small apartment and in her bed, boy or girl. It didn’t matter, if the experience was new.

So, what better place to decompress than at her parents’ cottage in the Bavarian Alps, near Berchtesgaden. Mutter und Vater called it a cottage, but, it was a two-story massive house bigger than anything in the vicinity, unless you consider the various inns and small hotels spread in or near Schönau-am-Königssee, the little village at the northern tip of the elongated lake by the same name.

Mutter und Vater had expressly told her that they were occupied elsewhere and wouldn’t be at the ‘cottage’ during her stay. “Wunderbar,” was her only response. She wanted peace and tranquility, and not having to listen ad nauseam to her Mutter’s various malaises and états d’âmes. Vater called it her ‘Sturm und Drang’ (storm & drive) periods. And these were more painful to witness, for her entourage at least, than the ‘other kind’ of period. Vater was also a pain in the ass for another reason.

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