Your Perfect Year(90)
“No, I won’t. And I’m not in a state of shock—I’m thinking more clearly than I have for a long time.” She had hardly finished the sentence when she burst into tears.
“Hannah.” Lisa threw her arms around her, drew her close, and stroked her hair. “It’s all right, let it all out.”
“I . . . I . . . I . . .” Hannah stammered, clinging to Lisa as though she were the only thing left to hold on to as she teetered on the brink of an unfathomable abyss.
“I know, darling, I know . . .”
“How can I go on?” she sobbed. “What’s going to happen?” She wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her hand. “It’s a complete nightmare! It can’t be true. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up soon. How can I go on? How’s it supposed to work?”
“With small steps and by taking one day at a time. There’s no other way.” Lisa stepped back and looked at Hannah encouragingly. “We’re never given a burden bigger than we can bear.”
Hannah looked at her friend through her tears. “Do you really think so?”
Lisa thought for a moment, then shook her head slowly. “No. To be honest, that’s utter nonsense. Just a stupid quote for people who have no idea. I’m afraid there are burdens that are way too much for anyone, so I take it all back and I’m now saying the opposite.”
Hannah had to laugh despite herself. “Thanks for trying.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Come on.” Hannah wiped her face again. “Let’s get going. I think work’s going to be the best distraction for me.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to go get the car? Totally sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve already given it over to the universe.” She sighed. “It’s one less thing to think about. I’m dreading giving up Simon’s apartment and having to deal with everything.” She shuddered. “The funeral . . .”
“Don’t worry about that now. I’ve already talked to your parents, and we’ve agreed to arrange the funeral and take care of everything. If you want, we can also clear out Simon’s apartment together.”
“It’s very kind of you, but I can at least manage to deal with that on my own; it feels more right than if strangers . . .” She broke off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. But if you want me to, just know that I’ll be glad to help you any way I can. We’ll get through this. It won’t be as bad as it feels right now.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said. “I don’t know how I’d make it without you.”
“You can depend on me, it goes without saying.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Hannah began to cry again. “It definitely needs saying—I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
47
Jonathan
Monday, January 15, 6:08 p.m.
“Well, Frau Krug, there’s something I’d really like to know.”
Jonathan N. Grief sat next to his assistant in the back of a taxi, trying to put his thoughts into some kind of order. The afternoon had been enjoyable if completely absurd.
The three of them had taken a walk by the Elbe and then gone to the Witthüs for coffee and cake. Just like a normal family on a completely normal afternoon. Except they weren’t a family at all, certainly not a normal one, with a papa suffering from dementia and a mama who wasn’t related in any way.
Nevertheless, Wolfgang Grief had insisted on calling Renate Krug “Sofia,” and she hadn’t made the slightest attempt to disabuse him of the notion.
Absurd, strange, like a screwball comedy!
“How long has my father been thinking of you as my mother?”
“Well . . .” She examined her fingernails as though checking whether it was time for a manicure. “I’d say for about six months.”
“And you never thought to tell me? Even when I asked you outright?”
“I admit that was wrong of me.” A defiant look came to her face. “But it doesn’t make any difference what your father thinks. If he’s happy believing I’m his wife, who’s it going to bother?”
“Um, me, for one?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re simply not my mother!” He cleared his throat. “You can’t just act as though you are.”
“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Apart from the laws of common decency.”
“Oh, decency!” She gestured dismissively. “Decency is overrated. Your father’s very ill, and what matters right now is to make sure he feels good.”
“I understand. So it’s all right for us to treat him as though he’s mentally deficient.”
She said no more, but Jonathan knew what she was thinking. Because deep down, he was thinking it himself. His father was mentally deficient; his mind was in complete chaos. Such chaos that he now took his former assistant for his wife.
“I just don’t understand where he got the idea,” Jonathan finally continued. “My mother has had absolutely no place in his life for years. Why this sudden change of heart?”
“As you’re well aware, people suffering from dementia live mainly in the past. Feelings and desires that have long been buried start to resurface.”