Chapter 4

October 2005

Hi, I’m Stephanie Bergmann, attorney at law. Impressing, isn’t it? Well, I’m only a second year grunt in a mid-sized law firm in Hamburg. I do immigration law mostly, helping people file for citizenship or fighting deportations. It makes for a living, but it can be sobering. I had entered the field because of my interest in human rights, and I thought I could help persecuted political activists to find asylum. The problem, however, is that most real political activists are well known and rarely ever threatened by deportation. The people I get to represent will never be invited to Oslo. Oh, I was idealistic when I started. But when you see poor fugitives living on the meagre state subsidies wearing chunky gold watches — and paying our healthy fees with cash — idealism wanes rapidly.

That day, I was upbeat, however. I had landed a new client. He was a merchant from Turkey who owned an export/import business and who wanted to run his business from Hamburg. He was very westernised, his German was fluent if accented, his clothes those of a well off citizen. No chunky watch, no gold teeth, and when he signed the contract, he did it with an expensive fountain pen (I’m a sucker for fountain pens). His business were herbs and teas, he explained, and he wanted to use Hamburg as his main European port of entry for those goods. This would be a breeze, I decided. A man who would bring business to the City would not have to wait long for a hearty welcome. We decided for a two-pronged approach, via the commerce authority and via the immigration department. It never hurts to align the big guns on your side, and commerce is the biggest gun in Hamburg.

My mood was excellent when I left, and I decided to drive home directly, rather than going back to the office. I needed to think. When I arrived home, a wonderful day went down the drain. I still live with my parents, in a separate apartment to be sure, but in the same house. I’m not much of a cook myself, and I like the cooking of my mother. She was home when I arrived, and I went by the main entrance to say Good Evening.

“Hi mom!” I said, joining her in the living room.

My mother is easily fifteen centimetres smaller than me. I inherited her face, hair, and light complexion. The long legs come from my father’s side, my biological father’s side. I call mother’s second husband father, my bio-dad left us when I was twelve. Well, not exactly. Mother divorced him, because he spent all his time typing code into a computer and never noticed us. Good riddance! Holger has been there for us, has cared for us and for mother ever since. They both worked as teachers in the same high school and there has not been an ugly word between them for as long as I can remember.

My bio-dad had made a show of keeping a place in his apartment for us, inviting us over for visits. But I stopped visiting him when I was sixteen. Seeing my friends on the weekends had been more important to me. I heard of him, both from my mother and from my little brother, who actually visited him regularly. He made a bundle of money after the divorce, when he sold the stupid software company that had caused all the trouble, and now he was supposed to be on several boards of directors, and in semi-retirement. Well, I never needed his money. I got by with what my mother and Holger could provide. Ralf, my brother, had no such compunctions. He was driving a sleek little convertible, courtesy of his daddy, and he had always had the latest computers. No wonder he was into informatics himself now, aiming for a doctorate. To be fair, Ralf is a good boy, and I love him. He always made sure that I got his used computers, usually barely a year old, and he even asked our bio-dad for a sleek Power Book, only to pass it on to me, when I finished law school.

I could see that something was troubling my mother.

“Everything all right, mom?”

She gave me a smile. “Yes, no problem. Well, there is, sort of. I want to ask something of you.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Not so fast, Steffi!” she laughed. “Holger and I went to a musical yesterday. And we met your father and his new wife.”

It was tough to talk with my jaw on the floor.

“His what?”

“New wife, as in just married”

“She must be really desperate. Or after his money.”

“No, I did not have that impression. It rather seemed like they are completely smitten with each other.”

“Come on, we are talking Thomas Bergmann.”

“Your father has changed a lot. I have never seen him like that. Perhaps it’s the girl; she surely is the type that can turn a man around.”

“Oh no, trophy wife?”

“Not really. She is still quite young, early twenties, and she is beautiful. There is no other word for it. And very nice. She’s Brazilian. I automatically pictured her on a beach in one of those tiny bikinis,” my mother laughed.

“You are taking this in a stride,” I marvelled.

“Why shouldn’t I? Remember, I divorced him to marry Holger. He cheated me only with his computer. If he can find a woman to love, good for him!”

“Well, if he is happy with his mail order bride, that’s pathetic enough, but I won’t have to deal with him.”

“Don’t be such a bigot, Steffi; it isn’t nice. Anyway, he specifically asked to see you again.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yes! You really did not visit him in nine years? I could not believe it. He is your father, Steffi.”

“So where was he when I needed something. Like when I went to Harvard. I could have used his fatherly support then, if he’s so damned rich as Ralf always says.”

“You still have not figured that out? Who do you think came up with the money for Harvard and Oxford? Who do you think retained that expensive lawyer when you were busted smoking joints? Or paid the fine? Do you really think that Thomas did not know who that fancy laptop was for? You would not talk to him, but he asked about you all the time. How he could help you, what you needed. That internship in Zurich, he vouched for you.”

“Oh thank you, mother, that’s all I need to know. Sorry, Steffi, but you did not get it on your own. It’s your father who bought your way in.”

“Don’t be stupid! He did what every father with the necessary means would do. And he would have done it openly if you had allowed it. You could have a nice car instead of this rust heap. And now he asks to see you, and if you refuse, he might never ask again. Do you want that? Do you want to lose a part of your identity? Come on, tell me, did he ever hurt you?”

“He left us!” I had not meant to shout. My mother narrowed her eyes, and I knew that she was pissed with me.

“He did not leave us. I divorced him to marry Holger. And your brother, who is less pigheaded than you, sees him all the time.”

My mother should have been a lawyer. I was running out of arguments quickly.

“Steffi, why is it so hard to visit him once and see how he really is. Not the distorted picture that you carry around, but the real man. Once you see that he is no cold hearted monster, you will also feel better about yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

“I mean that Ice Queen image that you so like to project and which is so different from the real you. Look, I told him that you are engaged with Lennart, and he would like to see you both. I phoned Lennart, and he is okay with it.”

“Oh great! Do I have any say in this?”

“No. I know you have no plans for Saturday, so you will visit your father for dinner. And you will keep that tongue of yours in check.”

I took a deep breath. When my mother employs a tone like that it is time to knuckle under. It must be this teacher thing, she can always make me do what she wants with just this tiny change in her intonation. I had met young people who’d had her as teacher, and they looked at me almost in fear once they learned she was my mother.

“All right, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. That will also give you a chance to discuss your wedding arrangements with him. After all, he’s going to pay for it.”

“No!”

“Yes. Actually, Holger insists on sharing the costs. And Thomas agrees. He said Holger should pay for the privilege of having you as daughter. They both had you for twelve years, and they will share the costs, fifty-fifty. You should have seen them haggling!”

“You find that funny?”

“No, I found it heart warming. I did not realise it, but I still care for Thomas. I am happy that he found love, and I am happy that he gets along so well with my husband.”

I turned and left. One more word, and I would have puked. What was it about my mother? But then I realised that she had never spoken a bad word about my bio-dad. Some people never learn! Well, I would survive an evening with him and his gold digger wife. And if he wanted to pay for the wedding, I’d see to it that it would be really expensive. Less money for her when they would divorce eventually.

“Relax, Steph! We’re only visiting him. You won’t move in with him.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say. What is it with you? You’re so eager to see him.”

We were driving north on the Autobahn, towards the small village where my father had moved. I had never been out there, but Ralf knew the way. He had decided to come along, why, he did not volunteer to answer, and was sitting behind us.

“It’s rare to meet a legend,” Lennart mused. “The man is a pioneer.”

That was just like Lennart. He just loved to meet people, especially those who, in his words, had made an impact. He always complained about the mediocrity of the politicians he met in his job. He had been a reporter for eight years, off to every catastrophe or war on a moment’s notice. Two years ago, he had snared a job as staff writer with a big political magazine in Hamburg. We had met when I had defended a hapless Kurdish family against deportation, and the rest is history, as they say.

“Don’t be too disappointed!” Ralf interjected. “He’s just a regular guy.”

“But that’s just it. I read up on him. He stepped away from his job and his company when he felt burnt out. Now he’s helping from the outside, but he does a lot of public service, too. I mean, he was one of most outspoken critics of those European software patents, although he would profit from them.”

“He was never interested in the money,” I admitted grudgingly.

“But he knows how to make it,” Lennart laughed.

It was time to leave the Autobahn.

“Turn right after the exit, then straight for two kilometres,” Ralf instructed me. After two minutes, I turned right again, into a small village.

“The next left!” Ralf commanded. “Into that driveway!”

It was dark, but I could see that the house was the typical fare for the region, unpretentious, functional, just like him.

“He is no show off,” Lennart remarked, echoing my thoughts.

We got out of the car and walked to the door. I rang the bell, and the lights went on. The door opened and I groaned inwardly. The girl could not be older than 18. She sure was pretty, no, beautiful. She beamed at us.

“Hi, I’m Alicia. Oh, hi, Ralf!”

In amazement I saw her throw her arms around my geeky brother. There was affection in the hug, if not more. I still stared when Ralf saw my look.

“She’s the sister, you doofus!” he grinned.

Just then, somebody else came into the hall, and I held my breath. No matter what my bio-dad had paid, he’d got his money’s worth! She was almost my height, bronze skin, dark hair with highlights tied back in a pony tail, no makeup, and a body to kill for. Almost black eyes took in my appearance, and then a hesitant smile broke out on her face.