Berlin 2
By Parson Thru
- 481 reads
They made it through the Sunday morning U-Bahn. There’s a nice relaxed feel to Berlin’s transport system. There’s a nice relaxed feel to Berlin. It doesn’t feel like the powerhouse city of Europe’s powerhouse nation.
Just another anonymous couple, they emerged at Alexanderplatz, wandering through the bustle of shops and cafes out onto the street. It was almost mid-morning and the city was already alive.
Kerry was back on it, but was aware of a slightly nauseous feeling that he put down to fatigue. He was no stranger to this sensation. He allowed himself to be led by the hand, enjoying the closeness of a woman who just a few hours ago was a total stranger.
Across the square, a triumph of concrete ambition was soaring into the sky. Kirsten was half leading, half dragging him towards it.
She turned back to him, beaming.
“Look! Isn’t it fabulous?”
Kerry summoned a smile. The Fernsehturm had something, there was no doubt about that. Though he wasn’t sure at that point whether it was the aesthetic or the promise of a sofa that drew him. He trotted on after Kirsten.
Looking around him, he acknowledged that he had a soft-spot for the Modernist/Brutalist style and the statement of optimistic nationhood that the DDR obviously had in mind when this thing was constructed: unapologetic, in no way sensitive. Sensitive? To what, in a post-war wasteland?
They bumped past indignant Berliners and tourists until they arrived at the foot of the tower and its precinct of shops and restaurants. The whole plot appeared to him like some giant extra-terrestrial visitation that had folded out its various functions to begin collecting samples from the stark concrete surroundings.
Yet somehow there was life here. Life and soul. Somehow, the human spirit had emerged from the horrors of 20th Century Berlin stronger and more humane than ever. He felt himself buzzing off its vibrancy. He felt energy coursing from the hand that held his so determinedly.
They ran up into the lobby and joined the queue for tickets. Kerry wasn’t even sure he had any money left. Before he could speak, Kirsten had produced her purse.
“I’ll pay. It was my idea to come.”
Kerry was feeling confused and overwhelmed by the sudden change of surroundings. Excited visitors – mainly families with children – were wandering around, lining up behind red tape barriers to disappear into the bowels of the beast that he could feel rising above him. Round porthole windows gave a surreal sense to the whole scene. He simply allowed himself to be led to a cashier and on to the next queue.
Kirsten gave his hand a squeeze.
“I’m so excited. I can’t wait to show you this. It’s wonderful.”
They entered a lift along with a small group. The besuited lift operator greeted them first in German, then in English, resting a well-worn finger-end on the control button. Kerry felt his knees compress. The man began to reel off the statistics in metres per second of ascent. Kerry felt a little sick. He felt his hand being squeezed again – this time for reassurance. He looked at Kirsten. She was smiling brightly, like a small child. He saw an innocence in her for the first time.
They emerged into the gallery and headed towards the panoramic view. Like some horror conceived by Burroughs, Kerry saw people suspended outside, high above the city, cleaning the windows. He turned and walked away. It was a step too far in his state.
Looking back towards Alexanderplatz, he could see a toy railway running underneath. It was the surface train network, moving Berliners around the city like oxygen carried in the arteries of an enormous living beast.
He felt himself being dragged along by Kirsten, who was beside herself, pointing out the trees of the Tiergarten, Unter den Linden – the grey stone of the Reichstag building and Brandenburg Tor.
“What do you think, Kerry? I love this. This is my city – my home. Do you love it?”
Kerry held on to a convenient rail.
“I don’t really do all the tourist stuff – Check-point Charlie and all that crap – but it does look amazing from up here. I like it down there though, too. Down in the streets.”
Until now, he hadn’t noticed the streets rotating beneath him.
“Holy shit! The fucking thing’s turning.”
“Yes! It’s brilliant! Don’t you think?”
Kerry felt his colour draining.
“Can we sit down?”
“I’ll find a seat. Do you mind if I run around and watch things for a while? Oh Kerry, I love this. I’m so sorry you’re tired.”
He managed a smile. They found a small alcove with some soft seats and Kirsten deposited him like left-luggage before disappearing into the crowd to peer from the windows as she had a lifetime ago with her father.
Kerry sat and took out his phone. The battery was low. He switched it off and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. He could have slept there and then, but was paranoid that he would be swept up by vigilant security staff and turfed out onto the concrete platz. He sat and watched the mix of people mingling, photographing, drinking coffee – picking up snippets of British and American conversations around him.
After some time, Kirsten reappeared. The colour that had earlier filled her cheeks was gone. There were dark rings around her eyes, which were almost closed. The pair smiled at each other in recognition.
“I’m tired, Kerry”.
Kerry nodded.
She pointed across the crowded room. “I’ve found two seats in a little area just over there. Someone is keeping them for us.”
Kerry slowly stood up and followed Kirsten through the milling crowd. He tried to forget that the whole thing was rotating. It seemed better that way.
They came to an area near to the toilets where coats and bags had been piled in a small heap. Just beyond them were two seats in a corner. Kirsten guided Kerry towards them and they flopped down. A blonde haired woman of around fifty spoke to Kirsten. She smiled at Kerry. Kerry returned the smile.
Kirsten turned to Kerry. “Let’s just stay here for a while. The lady said you look shattered. She said she’ll watch out for us if we want to close our eyes and rest.”
Kerry looked across to the woman. “Vielen dank.” His gaze rested just long enough to show his gratitutde.
He felt Kirsten take his hand. He turned to face her and a kiss that was probably meant for his cheek landed on his lips. They grinned, and their foreheads rested together in relief.
Kerry closed his eyes.
He heard Kirsten’s tired voice say “I really like you Kerry.”
“I like you, Kirsten.” He replied.
They shuffled down into a comfortable position, fingers entwined, and Kerry felt Kirsten squirm into him and rest her head on his shoulder. He felt a strong urge to protect her and kept himself awake long after he heard her breathing settle into a deep, regular rhythm.
Soon he felt himself going. He was sure that he could feel a sideways movement, like the whole structure was moving in the wind. He dismissed the idea. The very last thing he heard was a soft whimper in his ear.
“I love you, too Kirsten.”
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