Barbara Isn't Dying by Alina Bronsky

Author:Alina Bronsky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2023-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Barbara fell asleep early, the visit had worn her out. She didn’t want to eat anything more, either. Herr Schmidt sat around the kitchen, tired and anxious, unable to concentrate enough to do a crossword puzzle, too fidgety to go to bed. He would have liked to cook something, but he wasn’t hungry. He took a quick walk with Helmut and sat down at the computer.

On Medinski’s Facebook page was a new video where the chef encouraged people to use one-third celery or cauliflower when making mashed potatoes. This nonsense didn’t interest Herr Schmidt, he moved the cursor around the screen and the frozen images from little film clips with thick arrows in the middle. He fought his way through the tangled mass of comments and realized to his surprise that people weren’t actually friendly to Medinski, either. Sure, some praised his work to the heavens, but others called him fat or dirty and told him to go back to Poland. Herr Schmidt, who in other contexts had definitely uttered similar sentiments, felt a vein in his forehead bulge. He wanted to write something, that Medinski paid his taxes respectably, for instance, and that this shameless commenter was probably some unemployed sloth who would do better to keep his mouth shut, but then he suddenly noticed a question among all the comments: Does anyone have a fail-safe recipe for sand cake? Mine is always too dry. Herr Schmidt moved the mouse and clicked on the question. On cue, a blank line popped up, and he began to type. I have one. Very easy. Wait a second.

He retrieved the piece of notepaper with the ingredients, sat back down, and tried to find the sentence he had started his answer with, scrolling down the screen with his finger. There it was. Beneath it, other comments had already started to pile up, all sorts of people boasting about their cakes. Herr Schmidt didn’t let himself get distracted, he carefully typed up what the chubby girl at the bakery had written down for him.

That’s it? came instead of thanks.

What do you mean, what’s missing? he answered.

I always add starch.

That’s why yours is dry. Herr Schmidt leaned back, pleased with his response.

What did Barbara say about it?

He didn’t know the person who posed the question, how could he remember all the unfamiliar names.

What was she supposed to say, he answered.

Did she try it?

Of course. She liked it.

Is there really a Barbara, or do you just wear women’s clothes in real life?

Leave grandpa alone, you can see his profile picture is a woman.

That’s why I’m asking.

Spill the beans, Barbara. Whose profile is this?

Herr Schmidt began to sweat. He moved the cursor over to the tiny photo of Barbara that showed up everywhere alongside her name, and clicked. It opened in the middle of the screen, and large enough to clearly see it was Barbara, smiling, fresh from the hair salon. Her cheeks were rounder then.

That photo is of Barbara a year ago, wrote Herr Schmidt. She still looks basically very similar to that.

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