“Just the last exams,” Luisa thought. “Then you’ll be done.” But she wanted nothing more than to get away and wished for a fairy to take her exams for her. Why had Mother left us? Who had taken her? Where was she now?
Luisa was always on the run, searching for her, searching for herself. She’d ended up at the Atlantic coast, with its cool coastal fog and salty sea breeze. Water had always attracted her; the darkness in the depths beneath the rough surface concealed something mysterious. One wanted to dive in, glide silently like a fish, never resurface — or gasp for air and embrace life.
Luisa leaned further forward over the railing of the jetty in the coastal town of Swakopmund hoping to uncover one of the secrets when everything around her turned black.
His arms were strong, but he was panting as he pulled Luisa ashore. His T-shirt clung to his sun-tanned chest; a strand of hair stuck to his forehead. He knew nothing about her.
Luisa’s head felt empty. She sat up, spat out green water, and coughed. He stood up, shook himself like a dog; the drops sparkled in the late afternoon light. Without a word, he reached out his hand and helped her up.
“Come on, I’ll give you some dry clothes, I live just around the corner.” Luisa couldn’t say a word. Shame crept up her neck.
The stairwell smelled of a hint of the sea and perfume. Mother had worn the same fragrance. Luisa followed him slowly up the stairs. The door creaked, and warm light flooded toward them.
They entered into a large living room with cool stone floors. Luisa stood there, lost, while he disappeared. Silence spread, a strange calm that was more like a little retreat in the middle of everyday life.
“Here,” she heard his deep friendly voice. He handed her an oversized T-shirt with a faded dolphin print and warm cotton pants. “I’ll make us some tea,” he said and left for the kitchen.
When Luisa woke up again, it was dark. She was lying on the sofa, covered with a fluffy wool blanket. The tea was cold. He was sitting in the armchair opposite her, arms crossed, eyes downcast. “I got to go,” she said irritably; jumped up and left the apartment.
The streetlights cast a cold yellow light on the asphalt. The ground still radiated warmth. Her shoes were somewhere—at his place, by the shore? Her gaze was hollow; her feet carried her home as if in a trance. She slept one night, then one day, made hot chocolate, and slept again, dreamless.
The fairy didn’t come. Luisa missed her exams. A school friend brought her the result: she had failed. No one asked about her; no one seemed to care.
The ocean became her refuge. She wasn’t drawn to the cemetery—there were too many questions and too few answers there. A certificate is just a piece of paper. What would mother have said? “There were never any failures in our family,” Luisa cried inwardly, knowing full well that she was wrong.
The surf gently lapped at the shore. A little boy tried to catch a wave with his hands, but in vain — it crashed into the sand. He cried. A tall, slender man bent down to him and showed him a few seagulls squabbling loudly over a piece of seaweed. Bird watching on the shore — such small natural occurrences distracted and quietly healed. The boy laughed and ran away. “Humble yourself like children…” Luisa thought, and a faint smile appeared. Immediately she felt ashamed — life is no laughing matter, not now. And yet: the coast, the birds, the wind — they gave her space for a mind shift.
Mother used to put fragrant flowers and a bowl of fruit salad on her desk. “To help you concentrate,” she would say. Nobody did that anymore. The exams were over, that ship has sailed.
As a child, Felix believed that souls surrounded us. No one had to explain God to him. He sensed something greater; he hardly knew fear of death. For him, death was part of life. Both his parents had died in a car accident; he was convinced that their souls still accompanied him. He talked to them and found peace in it.
He put the coffee on and looked out of the third-floor window at the roaring ocean. Felix remembered his childhood days, the swimming club, and his early happiness in the water. Who might she have lost? She hadn’t said anything; her silence and her eyes spoke volumes.
Felix stood up abruptly and left the apartment. The coffee was getting strong.
Luisa had been walking along the water all day, lost in thought, stopping again and again at the jetty, where she stood now for what felt like the hundredth time, watching the cormorants flying by.
She felt someone staring at the back of her neck. When she turned around, he was standing right behind her. “I wanna show you something,” he said without greeting her, took her hand and led her to the parking lot at the pier. Luisa let him. They got into a VW Beetle. The seats were leather. He turned the key, and the engine rattled to life. Silence settled between them like fog and was impenetrable.
Felix steered the car onto the main road and drove south along the coast. The road separated the reddish-gold dunes from the menacing waves of the Atlantic like a seam. Luisa marvelled at this unique natural phenomenon with awe.
The sound of the engine died away in a parking lot by the lagoon in Walvis Bay. Felix got out of the car, Luisa followed and he led her to a bench.
The water surface was as smooth as glass, not a breath of wind was blowing, and the silence was broken only by the soft chattering of the flamingos. Astonished by the contrast to the loud roaring waves in Swakopmund, Luisa took a deep breath.
She sat motionless, watching the pink creatures in the last daylight. His gaze was fixed on her face. He understood without words. He had led her beside the still water; the loud roar outside from the waves and inside from grief fell silent.
Slowly, he withdrew. The rattling of the Beetle receded. Alone, she began to cry; sobs shook her, and with each drop, a piece of the pain left her.
As the sun set into the sea, the first stars appeared in the clear sky. Luisa sensed a created space for mindfulness and a slow return to calm; she did find a place where she could breathe again. Not everything was perfect, but it was a start; the shift from the thunderous Atlantic waves to the quiet mirror-smooth lagoon offered Luisa new comfort, space to grieve, and at the same time strength for new steps.
Luisa got up from the bench, took first cautious steps and started a quiet path back to life.
