First the sisters, then their mother

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“The phone?” I asked, when our breathing had stabilized.

“It was probably Lindy,” she said quietly, picking away absently at a few of my blond chest hairs. “She’s been calling about this time every day.”

I said nothing.

“Christ! What have I done?” she exclaimed to herself. “Not a word to her, Nick! Okay? She’s so looking forward to being with you, and now I’ve betrayed her!”

“Maureen! Lindy’s a friend of my younger sister’s! I’ve never promised her anything!” What I truly wanted to say, I couldn’t. In 24 hours I’d fallen in lust – maybe more – with this older woman.

“You go to Berlin, then go see Lindy in Grenoble on the way back. If I’m still in Europe we can get together again. It’s not that I don’t want to…to see you,” she said, turning away to avoid my eyes. That’s when the phone rang again.

“Hi, honey!” said Maureen cheerfully to her daughter. “Sorry. I must’ve been in the shower. Good news! Nick came by last night…yeah, he looks good! Was so sorry he missed you!”

She gave me a glance that would frighten an executioner, assuring my silence.

“Tell me about your rooms, and give me the address and phone number. I’ll be sure to give ’em to Nick when he comes by again. When? Oh, I don’t know. He said something about going to Berlin. Yeah. Don’t know, honey.”

Bored, I went to the bathroom and showered…after over three days. When I emerged Maureen and Lindy were still on the phone. I dressed and mimed to Maureen that I was going to the patisserie to buy some rolls to go with her excellent coffee. I returned to find her off the phone, showered and in a robe, with her hair in a wet twist over one shoulder.

“Lindy can hardly wait to see you,” she said quietly.

“Why? She won her bet with Carolyn,” I responded, petulantly.

“I hope it’s more than that, Nicky. There are worse things I can think of than to have you as my daughter’s lover,” she said, pointedly.

I froze inside at that suggestion. I was far from committing myself to any woman. “I need to get to Berlin, then see Switzerland and Italy. I can get work in Naples with some U.N. friends to extend my trip into Greece, then Egypt.” I hesitated as she looked at me. “Do you have to go back in late September?”

“I don’t have to do anything, sweetie. But I’d be doing you a disservice by staying here and being your mistress. You’re a young man, seeing the world! I’m certainly not going to follow you around.” She left the table for a few minutes. Returning, she gave me a card. “Here’s Lindy’s new address and phone number, and the address and number here. I put down Madame Langlois, the concierge’s number, too. Call her if I’m not in…anytime.”

“I guess that’s it, then,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious to leave. I strode to the front door, hoisting my backpack in the crook of one arm.

“Wait!” Maureen cried, her voice breaking as she ran to me. Then she stopped, breathing heavily. “I didn’t mean to sound so cold. I can’t remember ever spending many nights like the one we just had!” she whispered into my chest. “Now kiss me and leave, young man. I’ve said enough! Be kind to Lindy, and…come back to me soon!”

As I walked down the stone stairs to meet Bill and get ready for another trip, I’d never been more confused by a woman. Talk about mixed messages!

Part 2

Berlin in August, 1961, was the most exciting city in the world. Just before the East Germans started building “The Wall,” we got a chance to visit the eastern sector. I was appalled at the mountains of rubble in that area that still existed from WWII after seventeen years of Communist rule.

West Berlin was entirely different. A modern city, it had benefited fully from the Marshall Plan. It was vibrant, almost electric, and we were fortunate to get a sixth-story hotel room fifty yards from where the east-west wall was being erected. Fortunate, that is, because we could watch Russian tanks and troops maneuver about, and be typical students while we partied with some newfound German friends. Americans were heroes that month, and horny, party-loving Berlin girls were plentiful in those frantic few days. But when the wall was up and politics were no longer grist for my political imagination, we decided to move southward. Before we left I picked up a card from Maureen at Berlin’s American Express office. Please call me, it said. I got a similar postcard from Lindy, asking when I’d be in Grenoble, but I decided first to call her mother.

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