19. Dallas
DALLAS
As soon as Emmi woke up, she checked her phone.
There was a voicemail from Monika, an email from her law professor who was bringing her along to New York, and a sad selfie from her boyfriend, Karl, with the words “ Vermisst du mich? ” She yawned.
No, she didn’t miss him; she’d only been gone four days.
Karl had been clingy before she left, saying she was probably going to fall for some rich American law associate in New York.
Emmi understood his insecurity, considering the summer he was facing.
Karl would be serving bratwurst and beers to tourists in Alexanderplatz, working for the same creepy manager at the same restaurant where he’d waited tables in high school.
Now wasn’t the time to hurt the guy’s feelings.
She texted back that she missed him too.
“Hey, Captain,” Emmi said, “open the shades.”
And up they went, stacking themselves up into tiny folds and letting all the sunlight in the room.
Her bed was wide and low with soft navy sheets.
The room she’d picked was at the far end of the hall.
The walls were a soft gray, and there was a large black-and-white photograph over the bed—a field with hay bales and horses—taken by the father of the woman who owned this house.
Emmi had posted a picture of it on Instagram.
The bookshelves held the same hardbound, well-worn sets of The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter that she had left in her childhood bedroom in Berlin.
There were also textbooks on coding with Python and how-to guides on climbing.
The room had very little else in it, but it felt like a guy’s room.
Emmi had opened the night table drawers the morning after she’d arrived, hoping to find out more about the person who lived here, but they were empty.
The surface of the desk was scratched, stained, and completely bare, although in the bottom drawer she’d found an old ticket stub to a Goo Goo Dolls concert.
Emmi got up and stretched her arms over her head, pulling off her T-shirt without even bothering to close the door. There was no need since she had the entire upper floor to herself. For the first time in her life, privacy was not an issue. Space was not an issue.
She put on shorts, a sports bra, and a tank top and went to brush her teeth and splash water on her face.
The bathroom had a long countertop with nothing but her things on it, her makeup, her lotion, and her ponytail holders.
On the hook behind the door, her bikini was hanging to dry.
She opened a cabinet and took out one of a half dozen folded white towels to dry her face and then put sunblock on her burned nose and shoulders.
Emmi had never had her own bathroom before.
With a pair of socks stuffed in her running shoes, she went downstairs, following the sound of her mom’s voice, and found both her parents in the kitchen.
Her mom, still in her bathrobe and slippers, was trying to dry Tank, who was dripping water all over the floor.
Her father was leaning against the counter, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
Her father was acting very strange. He’d come to the airport cosplaying a backup dancer from Cowboy Carter and taken them to a restaurant called Haywire he’d heard about at work.
Her dad, who did not think people should eat anything with their hands, not even French fries, had picked up the Cadillac Burger he’d ordered and taken a bite, ketchup and grease running down his chin, looking happier than she’d ever seen him.
“ Halt, Hund! ” her mom was saying, trying to throw a striped towel over Tank. He wiggled out from under it and came over to greet Emmi.
“I don’t think he speaks German,” Emmi said, leaning over to pat him. She had always begged her parents for a dog, and now—for this short time—they had not one but two, plus three cats and a guinea pig. Last night both dogs and a cat had come upstairs and spent half the night on her bed.
Her mother looked exasperated and sat down on a barstool. “Otto, you’ll have to wash a load of towels today,” she said. “Since you canceled the housekeeper, you need to help me with the laundry. I honestly can’t believe you said I would do all the cleaning.”
“Seriously, Dad,” said Emmi. She had heard this story twice already and fully disapproved. “Not cool.”
“I only thought,” her dad said, “that you would not want a stranger in the house. And I did not know at the time how large it would be, nor how much animals there are.”
“But you specifically said that I would do the cleaning,” her mom said. “Me.” She was holding a pair of sharp scissors in her hand and used them to slice open a box from Amazon.
“Because you are not at the moment working,” he said with a shrug, “and I am.”
“Stop, Dad. You’re only making it worse,” Emmi said. Even though both her parents worked, they adhered to an outdated division of labor, meaning her mother did most of the shopping, cooking, and cleaning, and all the laundry. The older Emmi got, the more it bothered her.
“Then let me say this,” he said. “I am sorry, and I will do more to help in the household. For example, I can join Costco and take over the shopping.” He was eating a slice of watermelon, and every few seconds he would turn and spit a seed into the sink.
“What’s Costco?” Emmi said.
“Oh you would be so amazed,” he said, wiping his chin. “They are selling ganz alles there. Anything you can think of and always in very large sizes. I can buy Toilettenpapier to last a year.”
Emmi was having a hard time picturing her dad pushing a grocery cart.
“Your father has been skinny-dipping again this morning,” her mom said.
“Eww,” Emmi said, “gross.”
“What does it mean?” he said. “Skinny…?”
“She means you were naked in the pool,” Emmi said.
He turned to her mother. “I do not skinny-swim,” he said. “Every morning after I swim, I am removing my bathing pants. Then I leave them outside to dry in the sun.”
“I didn’t even know you liked to swim,” Emmi said.
“I never have the chance,” her dad said, tightening the damp towel around his waist. “It is one of my favorite things about here, a private pool in the backyard. I enjoy very much to swim lanes.”
“Laps,” Emmi said. “Don’t you prefer the ocean to a pool?”
“I do,” her mother said.
“I don’t,” said her dad, seeming to surprise himself with his answer.
Emmi was not used to seeing her parents disagree about anything.
But she hadn’t spent much time with them in the last year, and they seemed more at odds now.
Also she knew her dad had been sleeping upstairs before she’d arrived for this visit; in one of the upstairs bedrooms, she’d found his socks on the floor by the bed and his razor next to the sink.
Her mother pulled a shiny black art book out of the box and ran her hand over the cover. She took it to the island and sat down, opening it to the first page.
The dogs were still circling Emmi, and Tank took one of her Nikes in his mouth.
“No, Tank,” Emmi said. “Drop it.”
“Frau Holt did not do a good job training her dogs,” her dad said.
Her mother looked up from the book. “Do you know what she told me?” she said. “She says that Adam is married.”
“Who?” asked Emmi.
“Herr Lance,” her father said, frowning, “our Berlin neighbor.”
“The music producer?” Emmi said. “I met him once.”
“He does not act married,” her dad said.
“Lucy says he’s getting a divorce,” her mom said. “I think it’s odd he never mentioned a wife.”
“I thought you two had become friends,” her dad said.
“Obviously not,” her mom said. “If we were friends, I would have known he was married.”
“I told you he has a bad character,” her dad said. “I have seen him having women over to his apartment. He’s a playboy.”
“I suppose he is,” said her mother. “I’m sorry I ever defended him.”
And just like that they were aligned again.
Her mom turned back to her book as her father washed his hands and dried them on a dish towel that he left balled up on the counter. “I must get ready for work,” he said. “Let me know if you would like to make a Rundgang of the hospital. We can have a nice lunch at the faculty club.”
“No tour today,” her mom said. “I’m taking Emmi to buy some new clothes for her internship.”
“Of course,” he said. He kissed the top of Emmi’s head and walked out of the room.
Emmi went over to check on the guinea pig as Mrs. Henley came breezing through the back door, calling out her usual “Yoo-hoo!” and putting a cookie tin on the counter next to one of the cats.
“I baked y’all a batch of snickerdoodles,” she said.
“They’re heavy on the butter and cinnamon and absolutely perfect with a cup of coffee. ”
Emmi liked the Henleys. Today Mrs. Henley was wearing pink and white checked capri pants, a pink polo shirt, and Tory Burch sandals that showed off her shiny painted toenails.
Her hair was curled and stiff, moving as if it were all one piece.
Emmi closed the guinea pig’s cage and helped herself to a cookie from the tin. “Thank you,” she said.
“Wash your hands,” said her mother, who was convinced Piglet was carrying germs.
Without warning, Mrs. Henley reached out and wrapped Emmi in a tight hug. Over her shoulder, Emmi held the cookie and shot her mom a look of confusion. Her mom shrugged.
“I’m really missing my grandkids today,” Mrs. Henley said, patting Emmi on the back.
She smelled like hair spray. She loosened her grip and then held Emmi by the shoulders.
“I wish Jack were here to show you whatever it is young people like to do around here. But the two of you are like teenage ships passing in the night.”
“Is he in Berlin the whole summer?” Emmi asked.
“Looking after the twins while his mom works. He’s a terrific big brother.”
“My best friend is in Berlin. Maybe Monika could meet him and show him around?”