The Outsider(S) by Caroline Adhiambo Jakob Page A

confident.
    He looks at me thoughtfully, which prompts me to continue talking, which turns out into a stammer and a mistake.
    “I was also once in Croatia… Prague.’’
    “You mean in the Czech Republic.”
    “Yes,” I respond, blushing. I know that my pale skin has probably turned completely red. It is as if blushing is a phenomenon that only afflicts me. Which reminds me, I have never seen Irmtraut blush.
    “Please come with me,” the smartly dressed gentleman says, showing me into an adjoining office. It is a sleek office with glass walls. I wonder why people have walls with glass. Aren’t walls supposed to create some kind of privacy? Why have walls if they are going to be transparent anyway? My thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Perfectly Dressed. Somehow my navy blue trousers with elastic on the waist and the flowered top that I carefully chose for this occasion seem all wrong.
    “My colleague will be with you in a moment,” he says gently and turns to leave. Then he turns back. “Would you like something to drink?”
    I am tempted to say yes—no, shout, “Sure!” but I don’t. I do not want to come across as greedy. Besides, I can’t know if they have enough. Maybe he is offering me the last of what they have. And that I can’t bring myself to take.
    “No, nothing, thank you!” I say timidly.
    From where I am seated, I see him busy himself with the telephone. I’m sure that he’s talking to his colleague and I’m sure that he is talking about me. I retrieve the printouts from the Internet from my bag. Lufthansa , it reads, is a global player in the airline industry . I take this to mean that it flies to every destination in the world. This is what I want for my life. I am going to fly away from my current life. Just like that. I am going to just leave it behind. Now, I am not one of those people whose childhood dream is to fly. No. I actually hate flying. In fact, the three times I have flown in the past were a nightmare.
    So this is a big decision. And a risky one, for that matter. But I am being pushed forward by the unlimited possibilities ahead. A flight to New York City, to Rio de Janeiro, Los Angeles, Beijing, Zanzibar, Cuba… I feel a shiver of excitement down my spine. I am going to realize this dream.
    My daydream is intercepted by movement at the reception desk. A woman who looks relatively young is talking to the man at the desk. She turns in my direction and flashes me a smile. She is in a navy blue suit with a yellow scarf on her neck. She picks up a notebook and walks towards me.
    “Good afternoon,” she says pleasantly. She smells of roses, and I am completely mesmerized by her perfect face, perfect hair, and well-toned body. Her hair is a shade between blond and brunette. She has beautiful eyes and supple skin. Something about her reminds me of the supermodels I see on TV. Except I always thought they weren’t real. Isn’t that what we are told all the time? Not to compare ourselves with the women in the magazines and TV because that is not really how they are in real life?
    I suddenly become very self-conscious. My blond hair is brittle and dull and does not have any volume.
    “I am Frau Bitter,” she says, stretching her arm to shake my hand.
    A thin smile spreads across my face. I hope that she is bitter with her life. “I am Ramona Rosler,” I say in an unnecessarily high-pitched tone, standing to shake her hand. One of the best things about my marriage is my surname, Rosler. In fact if I’m honest, I have to say that the chance to drop my original surname, Eickelschaft, played a big part in my decision to get married.
    “My colleague says you want to work for Lufthansa,” she proceeds. The smile doesn’t leave her face.
    “Yes,” I respond enthusiastically.
    “Why Lufthansa?” she asks. Her curiosity is not artificial. I can see that she is either shocked at my audacity or thinks that I am the best applicant she’s ever come across.
    I try to think of an