A non Malifaux tale

[Chucklemonkey]

Dieter had spent the morning doing nothing productive. It was the type of morning that he had often had recently, as a result of the long hours of sleeplessness he endured.

He had awoken fully from a restless sleep at 8am to find that Karina had already risen, showered, and prepared the morning meal for both of them, together with their six year old daughter Katya. He had taken longer than normal to get himself showered, shaved and dressed as smartly as would be appropriate for the day, taking a moment as he exited the bathroom to take in his reflection in the mirror. He was nearly forty-years old now and despite the on-set of a few wrinkles around the eyes he remained a handsome man maturing into middle age. By all appearances things were going well in his life. A steady job with income sufficient to support his family was secure; a daughter who was truly the apple of his eye, and a wife who was not only beautiful but who always seemed to know how to react to both his moods and that of their daughter.

Granted, he had not been aware of this until the last few months, but it mattered all the same.

He had stepped into the kitchen to be greeted by a beaming smile from Katya, her dark brown pigtails dangling over the collar of her school uniform as her legs dangled over the edge of the wooden kitchen chair she sat on. Karina looked at him, her lips forming a gentle smile hidden from their daughter, then grabbed a glass tumbler from the draining board and proceeded to fill it with orange juice and place it next to his plate. He sat and surveyed the scene before him. Karina had clearly put in a little extra effort this morning as before him sat a basket of fresh french rolls and pastries, a platter of cold meats and cheeses, a rack of toast and a little side-plate upon which sat miniature jars of marmalade and raspberry jam: all of his favourites. He felt a pang of guilt knowing that he would be unable to take more than a few bites.

He was aware of Katya looking up at him and he returned her gaze across the table, she smiled at him again with a mouth stained red by jam and it couldn’t help but brighten his mood. He was sure however that she would not be able to finish all of the food she had piled high in front of her.

After breakfast the two ladies of his life left for school, Karina worked at their daughters school part time as a teaching assistant, Dieter wondered as she left if she was truly happy as to him she seemed to be one of the most intelligent people he had met. Dieter would not be going to his job as an engineer in the car factory today. He looked up at the clock in the hallway, saw it was not yet 9 and immediately regretted asking for the meeting to take place at noon. Why noon? It seemed so clichéd to him; yet, despite rehearsing the conversation hundreds of times in his head it still ended up being stilted and unsatisfying and he panicked slightly when asked for a time and location. Noon and in a nearby pub had been agreed. Dieter was not a drinker but thought that the local drinking establishment offered a neutral venue where two men could hold a conversation without being un-necessarily interrupted.

He sat on his couch and the slow passage of time allowed him to reflect on the recent events in his life. His mother had died only a few years back, and then, only four months ago his father had also passed. It was his father’s death that had brought about recent events and his nervousness today.

He had always had a good relationship with and deep respect for his father, Heinrich. He had been a bus driver all of Dieter’s lifetime, an ebullient man, always holding court in the centre of conversations, never afraid to voice his opinion and often dismissive of those which did not echo his own. Heinrich also enjoyed a few bottles of beer and a few more cigarettes. Despite these traits Heinrich was an immensely capable man and even though his conversational style would often result in heated arguments, people were generally unable to hold a grudge. The memories had been refreshed by recent conversations with his Uncle Bruno, his mother’s brother, and a man who he thought had known his parents as well as anyone. At least, as well as anyone he would feel comfortable talking too.

It had been a long overdue family holiday that had resulted in those talks with Bruno where everything fallen both into place, and apart, simultaneously. Dieter had taken his family to Scotland not simply to visit his Uncle, but to take in the sights and history of a country he had long wanted to visit. The days had been primarily spent on meeting those goals, trips to Edinburgh and the Highlands chalked off in quick succession. At night he would sit with his Uncle, a man who, like his father, had been a handsome man in his day but seemed to have aged rapidly over the last five or six years, and now at the age of 65, and on the receiving end of a few reminders of his mortality due to heart attacks, seemed to already be on a swift decline.

Those brandy fuelled evenings had been unhurried and the conversations therein organic, it soon became clear however, that both had been entrusted with a man’s secrets. Neither knew the whole story, but together, and with the aide of a bottle of Vettorano brandy they were able to put together a picture neither could have believed.

Except they did.

Upon his return to the Ruhr valley Dieter had instructed a private investigator in an attempt to seek clarity on the vague recollections of two aging men. In a surprise to Dieter who had always assumed such investigators would be too busy photographing cheating spouses to attend to such matters in a hurry, the work had been swift and professional. A manila envelope full of documentation able to support at least one aspect of their combined conjecture had been deposited with him following payment and inside that was the telephone number he had used to arrange today’s meeting.

He held it under his arm now as he made his way briskly through the crisp winter air from Linkenstrasse towards his destination. His mind again settling on his father: a working man, a popular man, the life and soul of any gathering, a man he had known longer than any other.

Today he would meet someone less fortunate than himself, Mr Walter Stadtman. Walter had not had a father; or rather, had never met his father. Walter had spent his life on the other side of the Wall, until it fell in 1989, when he subsequently re-located to Frankfurt. The only thing Walter knew about his father were the stories his mother had told him. That his father had been the brother of the mayor of their town and that he had been suave and handsome. Other than those, all he knew was that his father had gone to work one day and had never returned. He was not alone, after all there were plenty of others in East Germany with similar stories, some were lucky - or perhaps unlucky enough - to know how their personal stories played out. Walter did not.

Dieter stepped into the bar, years ago it would have been filled with tobacco smoke but the ban had ensured that you simply had to run a gauntlet of hacking, stooped smokers at the entry-way of establishments these days. His eyes surveyed the room and fell upon a suited man sitting in the corner of the room, maybe twenty years older than Dieter, his hands were palm down upon a small lacquered table to the right side of the bar. The man’s head lifted at the sound of the door opening and their eyes met.

Dieter took a deep breath, gripped his folder tightly and stepped forward. As he neared the table the man stood and held out his hand for the customary handshake and introduced himself.

Dieter, despite never having met the man before, knew who he was. Today he was meeting Walter Stadtman. Today, for the first time, he was meeting his brother.

Edited October 12, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[the_madhatter1]

well written, not my kind of story though but still well done

[Ebonstar]

I like it. It's a moment of perspective, and you get to live in that brief moment where time can move up, down, sideways in a single thought- it's what good writing can do for you. As I've never been to Europe (silly Americans!), it throws a lot of places at me that I am not normally exposed to.