Falling Walls (III)

Chapter 28

The shock must have been written all over my face. She knows everything about me? What is that supposed to mean?

Eva must have noticed my hesitation. "I'm sorry," she apologised, taking a step towards me, away from the door. "That came across the wrong way." I had to leave it to her, at least she had the courage to apologise for her misled words, unlike me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have followed your story."

"My story?"I asked further, wondering why someone like Eva Thymann would read stories about Tom and me in tabloids.

"Mrs Herzig, do you mind if we sit down?" I couldn't believe I had failed to offer her a seat. So much for my manners and professionalism. I pointed to the sitting area and followed Eva, sitting across from her on the coffee table.

"So, why did you follow my story?" I didn't think there was much to follow anyways. Her fingers were folded in her lap and Eva was playing nervously with them. I was mirroring her actions, fiddling around with my thumbs. Then I remembered that I should probably offer Mrs Thymann something to drink which she denied, shaking her head absent-mindedly, then continued.

"I have practiced this a million times in my mind, day after day, but never was it as hard to say as it really is. Are you familiar with my story?" Of course I was. I knew the story of her life by heart. With a silent nod I urged her to tell me more.

"Well then." The deep inhalation Eva seemed to take to gain more time and think about her next words were clearly audible. "After I lost my son Max," a shiver went through her body by the mentioning of her son's name. Tears began filling her eyes which she casually wiped away with the back of her hand. Then she repeated: "After losing Max, I did everything in my power to find him. I even worked with the State Security, entirely against every believe I held. But I couldn't find any information on my boy. You have children, don't you?"

Now it was my turn to wipe the tears from my eyes, while silently nodding.

"Could you imagine ever giving up searching for them?" Of course I couldn't. My nodding turned into a slight head shake.

"No, neither did I. I was looking for Max everywhere. Finding him consumed me entirely. There was not a single trip to the supermarket, school drop-off of my younger children, visit to the doctor or park, that I didn't look for my Max in other children. I tried to imagine how he would look like at that specific age. At first, I just saw an older version of his chubby, smiling toddler face. Later I replaced it with an older version of my younger son's face. You know, there were several times where I was convinced I had seen him. Each time I followed the child and after a closer look I knew it wasn't him. Later, I read probably every article of adopted children who were looking for their families. Sometimes I thought there were familiarities in stories or looks. But my investigations always turned into air." I couldn't do anything else then nod throughout Eva's story.

"My husband had been a professional rower, so of course we followed the sport still years after his career ended. Your Tom had been a rising star. Everyone in the community knew about him, his talent and potential. Johan, my husband, he was watching the World Championship one year when I came into the sitting room and Tom's face with a winning smile beamed over the screen. It grabbed my full attention and deep inside this feeling that this is my Max spread out. I had never felt it so deeply. After so many times of wrong leads, I was careful, did my research and was even more stunned when nothing about his past, his heritage, came back. So I left it at that. You know, there wasn't much information on the internet in those days. Most people didn't even have a computer." I continued to nod silently, only the occasional "mhm" sound leaning my throat. My body was turning to jelly. I focused on the movement of Eva's lips. Watching her emotions mirrored in her face would have been too much for me.

"I didn't tell anyone this time what I thought. They would have never believed me if I'd told them that I was convinced Tom was my Max. I followed everything he did on TV, in the newspaper, later the internet. Then he disappeared from the public eye. Deep down I had this terrible feeling that my child was unwell. I tried to find out information about him but it was like the earth had swallowed him."

I knew too well what she meant. I had this very feeling now, the feeling that Tom was not well. That he needed. And it was like the earth had swallowed him.

"And then one day I stumbled across this article of a new entrepreneur on his way to the top: Tom Meyer. Johan knew by then about my suspicion. He first tried to talk me out of it, then he let me be. It wasn't like he supported the idea but he respected that I had to do what I did. I again followed every bit of information I could find on him and after a few months I was brave enough to send him an email. Maybe I was too vage and he thought I just wanted to sell him my story but I never received a response. Some time later I wrote again, this time an actual letter and an email and I followed up with a call: No response. I kept on telling myself that maybe my messages never reached him, so I decided to visit him. But then he had already lots of security and there was no getting through. I thought about other ways to get in contact with him and got more and more convinced that Tom, Mr Meyer, is my Max. - I'm sorry. I must be boring you."
Eva looked at me, her eyes almost pleading with me to ask her to continue. "You must think I've gone insane," Eva apologised.

I shook my head no. How could I think she had gone insane if I had come to the same conclusion.

"You wouldn't be the first," she continued, her lips pressed into a fine line. I held her gaze, still shaking my head.

"No," I whispered. "Not at all." And in that moment I felt that a connection between us stretched out like an invisible bridge, understanding each other and sharing the same thoughts and hopes.

"No, I don't think that at all." I told her again. "Please go on."

A smile, shy, maybe relieved, stretched over her lips. When Eva whispered a "Thank you," I could feel the weight lifting off both our shoulders.

"When I still didn't get a response I decided to try something else and made a business proposal. But still, nothing. For a while I was hanging out outside his office building day after day. I had booked myself into a hotel. I think that was when Johan had finally had enough of it. I was losing my mind, had missed my daughters birthday and Johan picked me up from the hotel and insisted I come home with him. He wanted me to see someone, get professional help. You know, I've got a degree in psychology but I guess you can't help yourself. I refused for quite a while but when my children got involved I eventually gave in. The evening before I got admitted to a clinic I wrote one last email. In my desperation I put everything in there, every experience, feeling, every thought and hope I had. I only stayed for two weeks in therapy. When I returned home I did have a response from Tom Meyer's PA, very formal, explaining that he had no interest in a meeting or business relations and that he had no unresolved family matters. That was probably the confirmation I needed that I had to let go. And that's what I did. I continued to write and advocate for victims of forced adoptions as part of my healing process. Until now. I mean, I mean, I never fully stopped following Tom's life. You know, the weird thing is that I always had the feeling my Max was somewhere out there, needing me. Around a few months ago this feeling eased and I felt liberated. Either because he was fine or maybe I had just moved on. But all old feelings came up again the moment I saw you at the library. The feeling that he needs me is back."

By now, tears were running down Eva's and my cheeks. We were both sobbing uncontrollably and without a second thought I closed my arms around her in a hug. It didn't matter anymore if she was Tom's mother or not. We shared a pain in that moment and that was all that mattered.