Fernanda was overwhelmed with icy fear. Her throat tightened, and she found it difficult to breathe. She looked at her watch. Her son’s plane was already far away. It would be hours before she could call him and tell him they had made a mistake. This whole thing was nonsense—how could her son have even thought of something like this? She was to blame, too, of course, because she went along with it. It didn’t comfort her that it was only supposed to be for a year. Even in the first few hours, it was clear that they had made a bad decision. That was it, such things happen. When her son got home, she would tell him to come back as soon as he could.
In the end, she didn’t call him. She decided to wait a week, to let her son see that she had really tried. She stepped out onto the balcony and lay down on the comfortable sun lounger. It had been so long since she had relaxed like this. Back then, at their weekend house, she and Volker would wait in the garden after a day of work until nightfall came while resting on a deck chair. They both loved the garden. They spent all their free time tending to the flowers, the fruit trees, the ornamental plants, and the lawn. Volker believed that active relaxation was the most beneficial, and Fernanda agreed with her husband. It had been two years since her beloved husband had suddenly passed away, leaving an immense void behind.
Fernanda couldn’t shake her grief. It wasn’t just the absence of her husband that consumed her, but also a sense of helplessness. Before, Volker had always known what they should do. He didn’t control her; he would just wake up in the morning and say, “What a beautiful day! How about we go for a picnic by the lake? What do you think, my dear? Do you feel like it?”
Or he’d say, “It’s raining cats and dogs. How about we clean out the garage and get rid of all that junk we no longer use? I’ll swing by the dump on Monday.”
Fernanda happily did anything her husband thought was useful, good, healthy, or relaxing. They never argued because there was nothing to argue about. It had been her son’s idea that two years after the funeral, his mother needed a change of scenery. He had rented her an apartment in the Canary Islands for a year, hoping that the constant sunshine, the eternal good weather, and the salty air would help restore her zest for life.
By the time she reached the seaside promenade, she was drenched in sweat. She wiped her neck under the collar of her shirt with a handkerchief. Her feet were suffocating in her suede shoes, and her long pants clung to her thighs. Her eyes longingly settled on a pair of light, brightly colored sandals at a market stall, along with a lemon-yellow linen dress hanging above them. She had never worn anything like that. Volker had always preferred more muted colors. She stopped. Cautiously, she touched the dress. A strange excitement washed over her as she imagined herself in it, along with the sandals.
She stood in front of the mirror, feeling ashamed. If Volker could see this! Would he understand that the heat in the Canary Islands could be so stifling that it was impossible to bear closed shoes and thick cotton shirts? The number of dresses didn’t matter anymore, nor did the number of sandals and slippers she bought that day. Since none of them were high-heeled, perhaps her husband wouldn’t have disapproved. She grabbed her new, brightly striped canvas bag and headed toward the main square. She had overheard the young German couple living on the ground floor talking about a salsa night.
It had been a month since she started attending salsa classes every Monday and Wednesday. It had been over three weeks since she completely overhauled her wardrobe. Occasionally, she felt pangs of guilt, but she couldn’t bring herself to dress as she had back in Germany. Besides, when she put on that beautiful red pair of shoes with white polka dots, she could barely contain her joy. The first time she slipped them on, they seemed to caress her feet. She had never believed that such shoes could be so comfortable. She didn’t even realize she was walking with her head held high. It had quietly become a habit to stop in front of every shop window to admire her reflection. She loved what she saw. More and more shoes and clothes filled her closet, and she changed outfits multiple times a day. And the dancing! No one had ever taken her dancing. Whenever they went to events with music, they would just sit and listen. Now she had sore muscles when she returned home from class at ten o’clock at night.
Back then, she had been happy. She had loved that life. But now, she realized that she was a completely different person than the one she had become beside Volker. She wasn’t angry, nor did she feel that those years had been wasted, but she adored every moment of her rebirth. And, of course, she loved those polka-dot shoes.