The Wall Crossers

November - Leida Offenbrücke - Friday - Maren's perspective

Maren's perspective

I have been having lunch with my best friend, the atemberaubend (stunning) Leida Offenbrücke. She is an aspiring staff writer with the famous style magazine Burda Moden. I have known her since, well... forever! She is a few months younger than me, silky brown hair like the brown autumn leaves of a beech tree bathed in fall sunlight, deep eyes like polished amber sea glass, imperious at times, sweet charming face belies her significant power over others, and lips a perfect match for fetching out-of-control impassioned hunger from ones like mine, but we... are best friends only. Just a bit taller than me.

Normally, she is working in West Germany, at magazine headquarters in Offenburg, on the River Rhine. But she had told me she would be here in the Berlin office this week conducting arranged interviews for an article she is tasked with writing, so we prearranged to meet.

We are at a café across the street from the Air Ministry compound, Berlin Brigade HQ, where I work.

She has been filling me in on this latest project.

"Yes, it is a by-line article—so exciting! I am interviewing various people for our January issue on the topic of bi-sexual inclinations and relations," Leida says, her eyes dancing with happiness.

"How is that topic a fit with your magazine's style and culture flair, Leida?" I ask.

"Yes, it is a bit of a sea change from our usual subjects. We are adjusting some of our themes to be more relevant to inter-personal cultural norms and departures," Leida explains. "My article, it is concerning acceptance also."

I think about this, and then I switch our conversation to me, launching into a review of the state of my love life, mostly all the latest news concerning me and my girlfriend, Georgy. After a couple of minutes, suddenly Leida interrupts me and says, "Maren, Frau Elisabeta told me to meet with you."

I abruptly stop talking, my mouth hanging open. I close it slowly, narrow my eyes at her. Leida is looking down at her plate, pushing a remaining crumb of food around with a fork. She sets the fork down and looks back up to me, intertwining her fingers with hands together under her chin, elbows resting on the table, her eyes widening, forehead furrowed, like awaiting my opinion.

My voice returns, "That crazy witch?" I say, my tone full of disdain and too little tact. I realize Leida cares much for this one who predicts futures from stars.

Leida rolls her eyes, looks at me, sucks in her lips a moment, then says, "She said I should meet with you as soon as possible, so... this is why I asked you to meet at my first break, during your lunchtime, instead of... like, tomorrow."

"Why is she so interested in me? Why the urgency? I have never even met her."

"I... I don't know."

Leida seriously does not seem to have a plan in this. Quite unusual for her—she is normally making lists and checking off things, much more so than me, she is even keeping a journal of her daily thoughts, activities. We sit thinking for a while. I finally say, "Maybe that weird old woman ate a bit of spoiled food, causing her to see something in her stars again." I raise my hands palms-up and look to the ceiling, toward the heavens. I lower my hands, look back down at Leida, smile, trying to make light of her concern, but then notice her eyes. She is just staring through me as though not listening, as if like something troublesome is passing through her mind. However, it is fleeting... seems to pass. She looks down again, now at her hands.

I remember—she has been through much... hurt, recently.

I slump my shoulders, check the time on my watch, yawn. I think about her latest project—the article, now gazing at Leida's amber eyes that she has raised up meeting mine—so beautiful. A quiver stirs in me, reminding me—I have always wanted...