Short Stories : The Last Trip of the Hanseatic (Chapter 4)

 

Short Stories : The Last Trip of the Hanseatic (Chapter 4)

CHAPTER 4

Ms. Scholz, resident

The first Sunday

Today I go to the dining room for breakfast for the first time. They simply put me in the next best available seat at a four-seater table without asking. Another two ladies and a gentleman are my table neighbors. But now I only see that it is the gentleman I met on the first day. Maybe that wasn't a bad idea from the staff. It is the captain. And his jealous girlfriend is sitting opposite me. That can be cheerful. She also looks really sour. My God, I'm not taking it away from her, her captain. Nobody can compete with my Alwin anyway. Besides, I'm out of age. But apparently not yet, the old saddle pad. At some point she will calm down. I go to the buffet and take a look at the offer. There are no fresh rolls on Sunday, I have already been warned. Doesn't matter, I also like the slightly sweet bread of the almond mares. And there's a soft-boiled egg. Only on Sunday, because of the cholesterol, was in the information for new residents. I sit down again and pour myself a cup of coffee. I crave my soft-boiled egg with a craving. Cooked stone hard!

My neighbor at the table looks at me mockingly and points out with a pointed tongue that that would be because of the hygiene regulations. Salmonella and all that. What nonsense, I was ninety, with a four minute egg a day despite all the salmonella. With the regulations, they have it here. After all, the coffee tastes good. I was afraid there are only decaffeinated ones here. I've been so tired lately, I just need the caffeine to keep me awake.

The captain starts a conversation with me. Maybe he dares something. The jealous goat makes a face when looks can kill.

But we will not be disturbed. I rave about the buffet at the Hanseatic again. There came a waiter for all the noses and refilled coffee. Nobody shows up here.

He is happy to finally have someone to talk to about his seafaring experiences. And I'm a grateful customer for that, honestly. We meet in the afternoon to have coffee together. So far I've always had my afternoon coffee in the room.

I get ready just before three. I skipped the afternoon nap. I'm about to meet Werner, he has even given me his first name. I'm excited like a teenager at the first date.

Werner is already looking at me impatiently, offering me a perfect place on the somewhat tattered red sofa that is on the second floor by the window to the veranda. The station assistant has already provided us with everything for the coffee. There is a kind of Berliner with a hole in the middle. Strange, I've never seen a cake like this. With a smile at my skeptical facial expression, Werner explains. These are “donuts”, he explains expertly, not unlike Berliners, except that they are not filled like these. And the "hole". Well, yes, learned something again. He is so sophisticated. And I'm just a provincial plant. Back then, on the first cruise with the Hanseatic, Alwin always had to explain everything to me. How to eat lobster, what wine to drink and what. But he didn't know too much himself. For a long time we both considered what the bowl with water and a lemon wedge might be.

The "finger bowl" with which you should wash your fingers after cracking the lobster shells. Good thing Alwin had stopped me from taking a sip at the last second. That would have been an embarrassing story.

Werner laughs when I tell him about my first lobster. He says that happens quite often, the one with the finger punch.

He tells me more about himself. That he had to take care of his wife for the past few years. She had cancer, colon cancer. Fiddling with the plastic bag, the artificial intestinal exit. That hadn't bothered him yet. But to see his wife starve slowly would have broken his heart. She would have been a good eater. They were both gourmets, people had often gone out to eat, a luxury unparalleled at the time. But he was used to seafaring anyway, "live and let live". If they used to go to a port, the taxis were waiting at the pier to pick up the sailors. Enterprising, ready for all crimes. Werner blushes a little when he says that. Really cute.

As he speaks, memories of cruises with the Hanseatic come back. And with Alwin. He has been underground for eight years now. Still, I still find myself trying to ask him.

What should I do, how does it work? I miss him so much.

Werner notices the sadness on my face. Joke to cheer me up. The coffee has gone cold from talking. Werner pours hot from the thermos.

Ms. Wimmer, nurse:

I'm on weekend duty today. So I can bring the new one down to the dining room and explain everything to her. Not everything is like in a hotel. And certainly not like at home. We all want them to have a nice time, the residents. But we also cannot compete with all the regulations. In addition, some things make sense, even if such an old lady may not see it.

I pick up Frau Scholz from her room and take the elevator downstairs with her. There is already a lot going on here, from all directions the old gentlemen are striving towards the dining room. The food itself is an essential highlight in the life of a resident who is otherwise not particularly rich in highlights. The regular times in particular motivate them not to simply live into the day. Here everyone meets again, exchanges experiences and, last but not least, scolds God and the world.

But let's scold them! Those who criticize show that they take the product of our work seriously. And there is a grain of truth in every criticism.

Ms. Scholz follows me somewhat uncertainly towards the table, where the kitchen staff has already put on a placemat printed with her name. I introduce them to the two ladies and the Lord, our Lord Paul, the "captain" as everyone jokingly calls him. Obviously they already know each other, the captain smiles, while his counterpart, Ms. crowd, seems a little less pleased.

Continue Reading to The Last Trip of the Hanseatic (Chapter 5)