City of Women by David R. Gillham Read Free Book Online Page A

lose your mind like that without consequences.” She says this and stretches her back languidly. Dark, luxurious curls. Feline eyes. A well-built body. Men go insane for her. “You can be
sure
that somebody has already rung up the gentlemen of the Gestapo.”
    Sigrid shrugs. “Certainly,” she must agree, “that’s the likelihood.”
    “So keep your distance, is my advice. That’s what I’d do.”
    “It’s what we all do.”
    “And is that so bad? To look out for yourself? Besides, what exactly should you be doing that you’re not?”
    Shaking her head, Sigrid digs into her rucksack. “I don’t know. Nothing. There’s nothing I can do, I suppose.”
    “And what should you feel
obliged
to do, anyway? Did you know this woman so well?”
    “I helped her with shopping a few times. That sort of thing.” The morning has produced a flaccid sunshine, but it’s revitalizing after the hours under the fluorescent lamps of the patent office. Sigrid is happy to feel even this weak sunlight on her face. She closes her eyes to it. “It’s my mother-in-law who’s known her for ages.”
    “Ah. Dear Mother Schröder,” Renate pronounces archly. “And is
she
rushing off to plead this crazy woman’s case?”
    “Not as of this morning.”
    “No, I would think not. For once the old gorgon can give you a lesson worth learning. Are you still fighting with her?”
    “Always.”
    Renate produces a cucumber from her bag and bites into it. “I don’t know how you stand it,” she says, chewing. “I think if I had to live with
my
mother-in-law under the same roof, there’d be blood on the floor within a week. Hers or mine, I’m not sure. The funny thing is that Oskar feels precisely the same way about her.” Oskar is Renate’s husband, a driver for a staff officer posted in France. Supposedly, he is aware of his wife’s myriad trysts, but makes no objections. “He doesn’t care,” she insists. “He has a wife whose picture he can show about. He adores the children, and I’m sure he gets plenty of what he needs from those pretty mademoiselles.”
    Stretching like a cat, Renate purrs over the thought of her latest bedmate. “Oh, he’s very
appealing
.
Very
fierce
eyes
,
” she says. “Older, you know. Younger is hard to find these days. But still with the body of an athlete. And, of course, fabulous under the sheets.”
    “Um-hmm.” Sigrid nods. “Well. Aren’t
all
your conquests?”
    “I suppose,” Renate replies airily. “But I like this one. He’s polite.”
    “You mean he holds the door for you?”
    “I mean, he’s not simply interested in
his
pleasure.”
    “How virtuous. What’s he do?” she asks. “For a living, that is.”
    Renate takes another bite from her cucumber and chews dutifully. “I’m not sure, really. He has a firm of some sort in the Potsdamer Platz. But we don’t talk much about it, as you might imagine. In fact, we hardly talk at all.”
    “Married?’
    Renate shrugs. Who cares? “Shipped off to the country with the
kinder
, where it’s safe. The family abode is in Zehlendorf, but he keeps a cozy little flat off the Potsdamer Platz. For
business
,” she says.
    Sigrid smiles, but as she watches the wands of the willow tree float on the canal’s marble green surface, the smile wanes. She treasures Renate but is frightened by her as well. Frightened by all that desire, the bottomless hunger. “Should I envy you?” she asks.
    “Envy?” Her eyebrows rise. “Why?”
    “Why? You have no fear of your own
appetites
.”
    To which Renate replies with a laugh. “Well, in truth, it is
I
who should envy
you
. Isn’t it? All that self-control.”
    Tell me something no one else knows.
    On the bus ride home, Sigrid stares through the window. Stares into the past stowed inside her head.
    There is nothing to tell
, he’d answered.
I have no secrets
.
    She divided her life into two sides of a mirror. On one side of the mirror was her true life with Kaspar and his mother, which