At Sea, Staring Up by Kruckemeyer Finegan;

Author:Kruckemeyer, Finegan;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Currency Press
Published: 2013-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

SCENE THIRTEEN

EMMA: I roll up my brother in some bedsheets. But before I cover his face, I give him a chance, to say anything else to me, any last thing that is not about me carrying death. But Ulli is silent. Ulli is nearly always silent. I lift him up with my strength and give him to the ocean.

And then I drink all the whisky, and think about Papa. And think about what I carry with me. And think about how to keep him alive.

Spring

SCENE FOURTEEN

SYLVIA: In Spring late at night, the German countryside is a web of roads that weave and dip, beside slow-flowing rivers, and heavy trees. In the daytime, it’s all these things too. But at night the river flows slower, the trees seem heavier.

It’s all just a trick of the eyes.

ELISE drives.

ELISE: I wish so much I did not love you, Jacob. I wish I was a horror mother and I could place you in a bin. Or I wish I could wrap you in a blanket and leave you on a step for the nuns to find. But I don’t think they do that anymore, I’m not sure.

And I think, sadly, I love you too much to share you with anyone.

I think also—no, I know—I love your father too. So much as I love you, I love him. I love you because. . . you were inside me. And so now we are connected forever—your blood and my blood flowed together once, and now always more we are tied, you and me.

But your father I love because we share no blood, but instead time. So much time, Jacob. We know when to wake, and when to sleep. We know this together.

Some people say— my friend Connie says (you know Connie—ja, with the glasses) Connie says time is the worst thing to share with a man and this is why Werner and her live apart. But this is bullshit—Connie just doesn’t love Werner. She loves his money and she loves antiques and she loves cigarettes and she loves galleries. But she doesn’t know about loving a man.

I do, Jacob. I know about loving a man so much. Once, is ten years ago now, I danced with your father, with Matthias, in the square. I wear the most beautiful green dress that my Oma won in a game of cards. And I twirl Matthias like he is the woman. And we put our heads back and we close our eyes and we spin. And we did not care if people saw. This is love.

Silence.

And now here is a new kind of love happening. It is called loving my husband so much that even if I start to love another man—a man with long hair called Georg. . . I cannot stop loving the first one.

This means it is very true love, Jacob, very real love. But it does not mean it is easy love.

If I could walk away from you, and from your father, and walk across to Georg and sleep with him, then love is easy.

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