Seven Years by Peter Stamm Page B

to me a couple of times, said Sonia. He got the address from my parents. He called them and said he was an old friend, and they had no reason not to believe him.
    Jakob had written Sonia long, wild letters that she didn’t answer. Then, in spring, shortly before she was due to return to Munich, he had gone to Marseilles and rung Antje’s doorbell.
    And I let him in, said Antje. How was I to know that he and Sonia hardly knew each other? When she got back that evening, she was in for a shock. Why didn’t you just throw him out?, I asked. He was all right, said Antje. And he cooked for us too.
    Jakob had come with veal sausages from his village butcher, and pretzels and beer, a whole little barrel from a local brewery. Sonia laughed, Antje had asked a few friends over, and they celebrated a proper bierfest , bang in the middle of Marseilles. We taught the French German songs, said Antje. “Annchen von Tharau.” Remember that? She started to hum the melody, and Sonia recited the words.
Würdest du gleich einmal von mir getrennt ,
Lebtest, da wo man die Sonne kaum kennt;
Ich will dir folgen durch Wälder, durch Meer ,
Eisen und Kerker und feindliches Heer . *
    German chansons, said Antje laughing. After that we clearly couldn’t throw him out anymore.
    Jakob stayed a whole week with the two women. He cooked for them every night and entertained them with his strange stories. How we used to laugh, said Antje. His village must be populated entirely by idiots. He wasn’t always like that, said Sonia. He seriously tried to convert me to Catholicism. We sat up whole nights arguing. You never told me about that, I said. You don’t tell me everything either, said Sonia. Antje shot me a dark look. No one spoke. Then Sonia told us about how one night Jakob declared his love for her. Seriously?, I said, and had to laugh. It wasn’t funny at all, said Sonia. He cried when I told him I was going to marry you. But he took it like an absolute gentleman. To this day, he sends me a card every birthday. And we exchange the occasional e-mail. Jakob was still living on his own, she said. He was a vet, and lived in his parents’ house in the Bayerischer Wald. When we were going through our rough patch, she had often called him on the phone, and he had been very helpful. He urged me to stay with you, she said. For Sophie’s sake. He respects the institution of marriage and family. I wanted to say something, but when I caught the look in Sonia’s eye, I just said, I’m going for a walk.
    I walked through the village down to the lake. On the grounds of the Academy, I sat down on the shore. I sat in the shadow of a tree and looked out onto the water. A steamer went by, it had to be a charter tour, because the regular passenger steamers had stopped a month ago for the winter. There was no one to be seen on deck, but I could make out some shadowy shapes behind the tinted windows.
    Sonia and I had chartered a boat when we got married. Her father paid for everything. There must have been eighty guests, loads of family on Sonia’s side, and friends and people who stood in some relation to her and her parents. I would have been quite happy if things had been more modest, but Sonia said her parents would be disappointed if we didn’t have a proper celebration. We almost argued when I said, whose wedding was this anyway? Sonia had spoken against me. A wedding was a social occasion, she said. And that’s what it was. If I hadn’t happened to be the groom, I’d have enjoyed it, I think. Everything was perfectly organized, the food was excellent, and the speeches were funny and suited the occasion. Only my father’s speech was a bit embarrassing. He wasn’t used to public speaking, and he was inhibited. In spite of that, he still seemed to feel it his duty to say something. He hadn’t prepared anything and lost his way. When I saw the smug, sympathetic looks on the faces of Sonia’s family, I hated her for a moment. Then my father managed to