this evening and shake off all thoughts of Ron and his infidelity. I have to forget the dead body as well, and the fear that has accompanied me the last few days. But it's not as easy as I thought. The conversation with Reinhard has once again pushed me into an abyss of doubt and fear and confronted me with the sad realization that I have no idea what kind of person Ron is. For a moment, I think about whether I should get my trusty little helpers out of my handbag and escape into the unconscious fog of sleeping pills. But then I reject the idea. Never again! In the future a herbal tea will have to do when I can’t sleep.
And how could I have been so stupid? Why did I want to go through with a marriage, whose preparation has already made me so stressed it necessitated the use of drugs? If anything I should have been lying in bed sleepless with joy!
"Ron, you fucking son of a bitch!" I turn away from the window. He has turned my life into a rollercoaster ride. And then there’s the dead body! I'm now sure that Ron had something to do with this drama. There are too many inconsistencies, too many strange events. Even though I understand very little of what has happened in the last few days, one thing is clear in all the chaos: my ex is not the person I thought he was.
The water flows into the bath tub with a quiet murmur. Steam rises, enveloping me and obscuring the mirror image, which showed a sullen-looking woman. I enjoy the delicate fog which is making everything unreal, and which also helps make the feeling of being at sea that much stronger.
For the bathroom the Mainhatten has come up with something really extravagant. The entire room is designed so that it looks as though you are on a beach in the Caribbean. Real Palm trees bend over the huge tub which sinks into the ground. At first glance, the floor looks like a sandy beach. All body care products are displayed on either coconut husks or banana leaves.
And then the view! It is not the ocean stretching before me but rather a city which is enveloped in a sparkling coat of lights. All of Frankfurt lies at me feet. And yet I'm still tense like a too taut bowstring. In an effort to let something resembling calm enter my mind, I close my eyes and lean my head back.
But even that doesn't help. The longer I think about the events of the last few days, the more angry I get. Ron with his hypocritical posturing. His phony questioning on how I could think something so terrible of him!
Ha! I can think much more about him, and none of it is positive.
I want revenge! Why should he get away unscathed, while I have to deal not only with his infidelity, but also with the stranger, who was somehow killed in our house without my knowledge?
Maybe Ron killed the man; just as the night before this idea makes me hesitate. Yesterday I scribbled it on a sheet of paper, without consciously thinking about it. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Maybe I know more than I think I do? Either that or I'm going crazy.
But that doesn't matter now. What’s important is that I want to get back at Ron. I'll cheat on him too, even if it is pretty much too late for that, given the fact that, as far as I'm concerned anyway, we're no longer a couple. And if he has already found the hotel receipt, which I glued to the front door, he at least has a clue that our relationship is down the drain.
Frustrated, I swipe through the bubbles with my hand. I have failed across the board. Why did I never want to admit how important success and wealth are to Ron? I know that he is enormously ambitious. That he always wanted to climb higher. What could be better for him than to marry me? Daughter of one of the most influential bankers in Germany. And not only that. My father owns the De Beer Bank, now lead by my brother. Reinhard is just my half-brother, but nevertheless, he is following my father's footsteps, not me.
For a moment, I lose myself in the past. I see the disappointment on my
And how could I have been so stupid? Why did I want to go through with a marriage, whose preparation has already made me so stressed it necessitated the use of drugs? If anything I should have been lying in bed sleepless with joy!
"Ron, you fucking son of a bitch!" I turn away from the window. He has turned my life into a rollercoaster ride. And then there’s the dead body! I'm now sure that Ron had something to do with this drama. There are too many inconsistencies, too many strange events. Even though I understand very little of what has happened in the last few days, one thing is clear in all the chaos: my ex is not the person I thought he was.
The water flows into the bath tub with a quiet murmur. Steam rises, enveloping me and obscuring the mirror image, which showed a sullen-looking woman. I enjoy the delicate fog which is making everything unreal, and which also helps make the feeling of being at sea that much stronger.
For the bathroom the Mainhatten has come up with something really extravagant. The entire room is designed so that it looks as though you are on a beach in the Caribbean. Real Palm trees bend over the huge tub which sinks into the ground. At first glance, the floor looks like a sandy beach. All body care products are displayed on either coconut husks or banana leaves.
And then the view! It is not the ocean stretching before me but rather a city which is enveloped in a sparkling coat of lights. All of Frankfurt lies at me feet. And yet I'm still tense like a too taut bowstring. In an effort to let something resembling calm enter my mind, I close my eyes and lean my head back.
But even that doesn't help. The longer I think about the events of the last few days, the more angry I get. Ron with his hypocritical posturing. His phony questioning on how I could think something so terrible of him!
Ha! I can think much more about him, and none of it is positive.
I want revenge! Why should he get away unscathed, while I have to deal not only with his infidelity, but also with the stranger, who was somehow killed in our house without my knowledge?
Maybe Ron killed the man; just as the night before this idea makes me hesitate. Yesterday I scribbled it on a sheet of paper, without consciously thinking about it. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Maybe I know more than I think I do? Either that or I'm going crazy.
But that doesn't matter now. What’s important is that I want to get back at Ron. I'll cheat on him too, even if it is pretty much too late for that, given the fact that, as far as I'm concerned anyway, we're no longer a couple. And if he has already found the hotel receipt, which I glued to the front door, he at least has a clue that our relationship is down the drain.
Frustrated, I swipe through the bubbles with my hand. I have failed across the board. Why did I never want to admit how important success and wealth are to Ron? I know that he is enormously ambitious. That he always wanted to climb higher. What could be better for him than to marry me? Daughter of one of the most influential bankers in Germany. And not only that. My father owns the De Beer Bank, now lead by my brother. Reinhard is just my half-brother, but nevertheless, he is following my father's footsteps, not me.
For a moment, I lose myself in the past. I see the disappointment on my
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