abenteuerinwestberlin

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

Adjustments.

January 1989. Steglitz.

-

Klaus and Amalia had been living together for a few months, and, well, Klaus had to admit that it had been very easy to adjust to. Of course, certain things had changed. He really hadn’t anticipated that their living together would be so much like, well, living with a girlfriend. Not that Klaus had ever lived with a girlfriend before - he hadn’t - but he and Amalia had begun to do everything together. They’d begun having sex with a much higher frequency, so that they often woke up next to each other. And well, Klaus wasn’t complaining about that. He wasn’t about to complain when she occasionally jumped into the shower with him, either. She’d continued to visit him at work during lunch, too, and what had started as her venting about her mother had become deep philosophical and political discussions. And neither of them were sick of each other, which, well, Klaus didn’t think was usually the case with friends who became roommates. In fact, she seemed to love living with him as much as he loved living with her. On Friday nights, they’d developed a tradition of cuddling up together on the couch to watch a movie starring Harrison Ford. And Klaus loved it.

The thing he loved the most, though, was how little Amalia had really changed through the years. They’d known each other since they’d started school, and he remembered when her father had had to pay her off to wear a dress for Easter, and she’d promptly dragged him along to the bookstore to help her decide which books on her list to buy (because Amalia always had a list - Klaus vaguely remembered that his library had been pretty sparse when he’d moved in, but now… well, now he wasn’t sure how much longer they’d be able to go without buying more shelves).

Amalia was just as brilliant, just as witty, just as gorgeous, and just as headstrong as she’d been when they’d met.

And unexpectedly, he found himself loving Saturdays and Sundays with Amalia the best. Not because they slept in together, or sometimes went out to dinner together on Saturdays. Not because she was more than content to stay in bed until she couldn’t possibly sleep anymore on Sundays, rather than rushing to church, but for a pretty unexpected reason: if Amalia wasn’t going out anywhere, she didn’t wear makeup.

It wasn’t just that she didn’t wear makeup. She didn’t do any of the normal level of dressing up that she normally did. She wore sweatpants and a big t-shirt, braided her hair to keep it out of the way, and curled up with a good book.

And, well, Amalia often seemed so effortlessly perfect that it was reassuring to know that she didn’t always put on a front - and even more reassuring to know that she didn’t do it around him. It was nice to realise that, well, even though Amalia was high maintenance in many ways, caring about her looks was still very low on the list.

So one day, after just over three months of living together, Klaus brought out her normal mug of tea after he’d brewed himself some coffee, and asked her why she didn’t wear makeup on the weekends. “Not that I mind,” he clarified. “It’s actually really nice to know that… despite everything, you’re still… you.”

“I’m still me?” Amalia repeated, taking the mug of tea from him. “Who else am I supposed to be - Lilli?”

Klaus shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean… that your whole… getting dressed up thing, it’s not… something you do no matter what, that you don’t really… care that much what you look like. A-and that you trust me enough to… let me see you like this.”

Amalia rolled her eyes. “You’ve seen me in far worse shape than this.”

“I-I know, but I just…”

“Klaus, if I had my way - if I could bend society to my will - well, I might still wear dresses, because they’re surprisingly low effort for the turnout, but I wouldn’t wear makeup or heels, and I certainly wouldn’t shave, ever.” She took a sip of tea. “It doesn’t matter how beautiful I am naturally - I need to look exactly like society wants a wealthy woman to look in order for anyone to take me seriously. If I went and defended my thesis wearing a pantsuit and flats - and without any makeup… well, the result wouldn’t be the same as it would defending my thesis wearing a designer dress and heels, with immaculate makeup fresh off of this month’s cover of Cosmo.”

“Well that’s… kind of shitty. I mean, I know you explained this to me when… when you first started wearing dresses and stuff willingly, but it’s just… you’ve always seemed to do it really well.”

“Thanks,” Amalia said. “Frankly, I’d probably get taken even more seriously if I dyed my hair brown, but I’m a bit too attached to my natural color to do that. A breast reduction would probably also help, but I’m not about to get a major surgery just to be taken more seriously.”

“A breast reduction?” Klaus asked. “Isn’t that, like, usually the opposite of what women want?”

“Usually, yes, but it’s difficult to be taken seriously when you have the body of a pinup. But men are disgusting and sexualise women without our consent no matter what, and I’m happy with my body, so I’m not about to change it.”

“But that’s bullshit.”

Amalia rolled her eyes. “I know it is. And if I’d been born a man, I’d probably already have job offers by now, even though I haven’t even finished my thesis.”

“Ama,” Klaus said. “You know that I… I don’t love you because you’re fashionable, or anything like that. I’d still love you just as much if your parents still had to pay you two hundred marks to get you to wear a dress.”

Amalia settled into the sofa and took a sip of her tea. “I know.”

“Because… I… when I fell in love with you, it was before all of that. And obviously you’re still the same person, and any changes you’ve gone through aren’t because you started dressing differently when you were sixteen…”

“Klaus, we had sex before I accepted that I needed to perform femininity in order to even have a chance at being taken seriously, and you were already head over heels by then. I know.” She took another sip of her tea.

“What, um… what changed? To make you… dress the way you do?”

“It’s called ‘performing femininity’, and I realised that people listened to Lilli more than they listened to me, and that wearing t-shirts and jeans wasn’t stopping guys from leering at me and trying to picture me naked. I looked around and I saw that every woman in a position of authority, every woman who is taken seriously, dresses a certain way, and wears makeup. And I knew that I was going to end up doing something where my looks would certainly matter - even though they shouldn’t - so I was forced to accept the fact that I needed to perform femininity to be taken seriously by society at large. Of course, you and Lilli have always taken me seriously… but most people didn’t, before.” She took another sip of her tea and rolled her eyes. “Of course, I’m not anticipating becoming the first female president or chancellor - although that was in the running, still, when I was sixteen - but any job that I would have would require some level of performing femininity. And I’d rather do that flawlessly than resist it as much as possible until it was too late.”

“That’s… really depressing.”

“That’s part of being a woman with any kind of hopes or aspirations outside of running a household.”

Klaus frowned. “...I’m aware that this is… maybe not the best time to ask this, but…”

Amalia heaved a sigh. “Wanting a career doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t want a family,” she said. “But that depends on the man I end up marrying - if I end up marrying. But you and I both know, either way, my ambitions certainly don’t end at the socially accepted traditional role of mother and housewife.”

“Well, yeah, and it’d be a shame for someone as brilliant and capable as you to be stuck doing that when you could be doing something much better. Any guy worth his shit will realise that if he wants a family with you, he’s either going to have to stay home, or you’ll get a nanny. And… you know, there are more guys besides me who are worth their shit.”

“I know,” Amalia said. “Honestly, I’m not at all focused on romance right now, anyway. I want to get this thesis done, and I want to get my doctor title. Any romance would just be a distraction from that at this point.”

A distraction. Of course it would be. She was too brilliant and too ambitious to risk losing momentum. And even if it wouldn’t be… he was her best friend, and he knew, really, that they’d never be anything more than that.

“I mean,” she said, “and this is just between us, I mean it…”

“Okay,” he said, curious about what she wanted to say.

“Well,” she started again, “I mean… sometimes I do get concerned that… that I wasted my prime dating years. I mean, sure, I dated Daniel, but I knew… way earlier than I wanted to admit that it wasn’t going to work out with him. And if it didn’t work out with Daniel… he was perfect, at least on paper.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Klaus said without thinking. Amalia fixed him with a glare, so he continued. “It’s not that I’m jealous of him - I mean, okay, sure, I was jealous of him - but he wasn’t perfect. Not for you. You need someone who can keep up with you, intellectually, and… and I really don’t think looks matter as much to you as you let on. I mean, you can’t stand Werner.”

Amalia swirled her tea around in her mug before responding. “You, and Daniel, and Werner are the only men who ever treat me like I’m a person, though. What if I can’t find someone else?”

“Then you’ll have me.” Fuck, why did he say that.

Amalia met his gaze again, and he couldn’t quite read her expression, which was never not terrifying after so many years.

“If you want me,” he said. “If you’re… really concerned about being alone. And if you don’t want me, then I’m more than happy to be your best friend, and nothing more than that. But…”

“Klaus, I don’t want you to be my backup plan,” she said. “You’re a person, too, and you’re my best friend in the whole world, and you don’t deserve that.”

“Ama…”

“I’m serious!” she said. “I love you so much it’s crazy and I would hate to be in a relationship with you without actually being in love with you. It wouldn’t feel right. It’d feel like… like I’d be taking advantage of you, and your feelings for me. And we’d both be miserable! Because you’d want me to be in love with you, and I’d feel horrible for not being in love with you!”

Klaus sighed. “Look, I know… I know we’ve dropped this topic, but… do you really think it’s so impossible for you to fall in love with me?” After all, it certainly felt like they were in a relationship as it was. He didn’t think she was in love with him, of course, not yet, but he was sure that she could fall for him, someday.

“So… what, you want me to use you as a backup plan, and then you think it wouldn’t be terrible because if I just tried to fall in love with you, it’d work, and we’d live happily ever after?”

“Well… when you put it like that, it sounds stupid.”

She fixed him with the look he hated most in the world from her. That strange cross of pity and love that she felt for his feelings for her. She was convinced, after all, that his feelings for her would always be unrequited. Klaus, on the other hand… he was convinced that they wouldn’t be, if she’d just give him a chance. But then, he understood why she didn’t. Really.

“Klaus…” she said slowly, in that tone that he hated so much.

“It’s not as if what we’re doing is going to make me fall out of love with you,” he said.

She sighed. “I know.”

“I know it’s not going to happen,” he said. “But… as long as we keep sleeping together and spending as much time together as we do… there’s no chance that I’d fall out of love with you. And I know you know that, too.”

Amalia bit her lip. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

“So I could do without the pity, all right? I mean… how’d you like it if I pitied you for not having fallen in love yet? You can’t help it, and pity doesn’t change anything - and you’re happy with the way things are, right? It’s the same thing.”

And it was, as far as he was concerned. And he didn’t pity her. He loved her, sure, but he didn’t pity her.

“Do you sometimes think,” Amalia said, “we should have never slept together in the first place?”

Klaus shook his head. “Lilli says it all the time, but I think she’s wrong. It was mutually beneficial - we both had our first time with someone we trusted completely - and our best friend, and mine was with my first love. It isn’t like… I wasn’t in love with you before. I was. I’d have still been in love with you for years, regardless. Might still be today, even, even if we’d never had sex.”

“You think?”

“If we were still friends, sure. You’re brilliant and witty and headstrong and ambitious, and you take charge, and I mean, of course you’re gorgeous, too. You’re you.”

Amalia rested her head on his shoulder, although she seemed a bit hesitant about it. He wrapped his free arm around her.

“Do you think we never should have…?” he ventured.

He felt her shake her head. “No. I think we made the right choice. Probably should have continued to use condoms every time, but… I’m glad my first time was with you.” She took a sip of her tea. “Although… I could have done without having sex under a Star Wars duvet cover.”

“Hey, the sheets were Star Wars, too,” he said, pulling her closer. “How dare you forget that?”

Amalia laughed. “I think I blocked it out of my memory,” she said.

Klaus gasped in mock offense. “Amalia!”

She sighed and cuddled up closer to him. “You really do deserve someone who’s madly in love with you,” she said. “And I just think… I mean, even assuming it wouldn’t ruin our friendship… I don’t think that’s me.”

“I know,” he said. He also knew that if she’d just give him a chance, she’d see that they were perfect for each other, and she’d fall madly in love with him herself. But she would never.

She was the most brilliant person he knew, and she couldn’t see that they’d be perfect together, and he knew that she never would. And it never stopped hurting.

But on days like today, with her curled up close to him, laughing and joking, it was a little easier to bear.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 8/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin

-

Fortunately, or perhaps not, Niki was in his room, clearly with Atsuko when Bertram came home. He bolted and chained the door behind himself, and went immediately to his bedroom, where he shrugged off his suit jacket, took off his tie, and laid down on his bed.

He tried to focus on the bright side: his parents had been accepting of his dating a Lutheran, and they wanted to meet her, and even agreed to doing so away from the rest of the family.

If only he could forget everything his parents and Juli had said about sex, though.

After a few minutes of lying down, he heaved a sigh and got up to change into pyjamas. His parents didn’t take issue with his girlfriend’s religion, and they wanted to meet her.

Maybe, just maybe, telling Niki that would give him the nerve to tell his parents about Atsuko and then they could just get married and get their own apartment already.

-fin-

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BETRAM & DIANA. 7/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin.

-

“We wouldn’t care if your girlfriend was Jewish, you know that, don’t you?” his father said, changing the subject once their plates were in front of them. “As long as she has some religious beliefs to guide her - Western, preferably, but… you know, as long as she’s from a culture you can relate to. Not a Russian, or a communist.”

“Well, you said religious, so I’d assume not a communist,” Bertram said. “Not that a communist would willingly be with a wealthy baron’s son and West German lawyer. And I think most of the Russian girls in Berlin are officers’ daughters, and I would never risk anything with an officer’s daughter - Russian, American, English, or French. They all have guns and are trained to use them.”

“I don’t think an American would be an issue,” Juliana said. “American culture is relatively compatible with ours. Western, capitalist… and it’s not as if their influence will diminish over the coming decades.”

“Maybe not in that aspect, Aunt Juli,” Bertram said, “but I think you’re missing the fact that any American girls in Berlin are bound to be officers’ daughters, and that’s something I would prefer to avoid. Besides… like I said, Diana’s father is a count, which is even more similar than a middle class family, really.”

“We do want to meet her,” his father said.

“Of course,” Bertram promised. “Although… I think it’s best I introduce her to the two of you before I take her down for a family dinner… Oma can be… intimidating.”

“To say the least,” his mother scoffed. As if his grandmother’s dislike of her hadn’t been totally mutual.

“As long as she doesn’t catch you sneaking her back into her room from yours at three in the morning, you should be fine,” Juliana said offhandedly before taking a bite of her steak.

“Juli!”

So that’s what had happened. Bertram looked down at his plate and ate some of his fish. He knew better to get into this.

“The boy’s twenty-four. He’s not even a boy at all, anymore. And he’s right; by his age you’d been married for two years.”

“By his age you had barely even met Rodelind.”

“Willi, we all know that neither Rodelind nor I were virgins when we met. I was twenty-four, and I was still with Ursula when we met, and Rode was twenty-six and had been with others before me.” Juliana took a sip of her wine. “And the first time I was intimate with someone, I was… what was it, sixteen? The war was still going on, at any rate.”

Now that was something Bertram hadn’t known and hadn’t really wanted to know. A morbid curiosity was biting at him, but he did his best to ignore it and focus on his meal.

His father was bright red. “This is really not the place for such discussions, Juli.”

“Oh, neither of us knew I was a lesbian, Willi, and it’s not as if Lotte and Rode don’t know, either. And it wasn’t anything, really. Nothing of any risk. We were scared, and you were hormonal - well, so was I, only I didn’t quite know how to process it at the time - and we decided to play at being adults the best way we knew how.”

“Juliana.”

Juli rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. “Your father and I never had sex, Bertram, don’t worry. I don’t think he wants you to get the wrong impression.”

“You’re a lesbian,” Bertram said. “I wasn’t worried.”

“Just make sure you’re with a girl who wants to rip your clothes off instead of just playing along because she thinks her not feeling anything is perfectly in line with what women should feel. We’re no different from men, really, and in every successful relationship I’ve ever seen, the woman wants to have sex just as much - if not more - than the man.”

“Uh, right,” Bertram said.

“...You really should make sure she’s not a lesbian,” his father muttered.

“...And… how do I go about that, if we… I mean, she’s a proper lady, and I would never pressure her, and I think even if she does feel that way - and I hope she does - she wouldn’t… do anything about it.”

“Well,” Juli said, “and Rode and your parents can correct me if I’m wrong, but in my experience, even ladies who are insistent upon being ladylike tend to tear their fiancé’s clothes off within a few months of engagement if they’re really in love with him. But then… I’m a lesbian, so I never really had to be concerned with such things. A child out of wedlock was never a possibility with Ursula or Rode.”

Bertram was afraid to look at his parents, and unsurprisingly, it was Rodelind who spoke next. “From what I know, she’s right… although… working class girls are a different matter entirely.”

He heard his father clear his throat, but he still didn’t look up. “You’re intelligent, Bertram, I’m sure you can piece together my conception date with my parents’ wedding date and see that it doesn’t quite match up - but there are things you can do to avoid that, which I’ll detail at a later point if your cousin hasn’t already bombarded you with them - and even my sister… and it’s not just my family. It used to be… a woman whose engagement was broken for one reason or another had the hardest time of finding a husband because everyone knew she’d… well…”

Bertram had never, ever wanted to disappear more.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 6/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin.

-

His parents and Juliana were sitting at a table by the window inside. They appeared to be engaged in discussion, but looked up once they noticed Rodelind and Bertram coming toward them. His mother stepped up and embraced him, and Bertram leaned down and hugged his father. Once their greetings were out of the way (and everyone asked where Niki was, to which Bertram lied and said that his cousin was working on a play rather than tell the truth, that Niki was probably having sex with his girlfriend), Bertram sat down at the end of the table, the only seat which was open.

He ordered his food and participated in the discussion until there was a lull. He knew, really, he had to mention Diana, so he took a sip of his wine (Riesling, this time, as it paired the best with fish), and said, “Mama, Papa, there’s something I need to tell you…”

“What is it?” his father asked.

“Well, I’m… not really quite sure how to say this.” He took another sip of his wine before continuing. “I have a girlfriend,” he finally managed.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” his mother gushed. “What is she like?”

“Well, she’s a secretary at my firm - not my secretary, but my coworker Otto’s - and she’s kind and intelligent and compassionate, and she loves animals and children, and she’s absolutely beautiful. She lives in Wannsee, but she’s from Potsdam, and I’ve… never felt this way about anyone before.” He took another sip of wine and gauged their reactions, which seemed to be, on the whole, positive. “There is just one thing…”

“She’s not married, is she?” his father asked.

“What? No! Of course not! She’s a Lutheran.”

His parents exchanged looks. “Have you discussed it with her?”

“Not… conversion, no, but… I think if we had children she wouldn’t be averse to raising them Catholic, which is really the issue, isn’t it? She said so, on the first date, that we’d talk about that later. I mean… I wouldn’t convert, so I don’t see why she’d have to. Aunt Juli, your mother was Catholic and your father was Protestant and that didn’t matter, did it?”

“Rode doesn’t even belong to a church, technically, so no. Although… neither do I, anymore, even if I do consider myself Catholic.”

Bertram was caught off-guard by this information, but it made sense, really. Why would either of them pay church taxes to belong to an institution which told them that their love for their wife was immoral and wrong?

“Bertram, your mother and I don’t mind that you’re with a Lutheran,” his father said. “As long as she’s a good person and you both want the same things. As you’ve said… children are another matter, but it might not even come to that - and if it does, you can sort things out with her.”

“Although we would like to meet her,” his mother supplied.

“Yes, of course,” Bertram said. “I just didn’t want you to be taken off guard by the fact that she’s not Catholic… and, admittedly, I wanted to make sure that that wasn’t an issue first.”

His mother frowned. “Why would you think that would be an issue?”

Bertram hesitated for a moment. “Well… it’s just that you’ve both always praised the girls I dated before as ‘good Catholic girls’, and Mama, you converted to marry Papa…”

“Only because your grandmother hated me… and converting didn’t change that.”

His father shook his head. “Come on, Lotte, my mother never hated you…”

“She did,” Bertram’s mother insisted. “Until the day Maxi was born. As soon as she saw him… all her hatred for me vanished - which isn’t to say she loved me then, either. But she didn’t hate me after that.”

“Charlotte’s right, Willi,” Juliana supplied. “Your mother wasn’t too thrilled when you and I were together, either, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t think her… distrust of Charlotte stemmed from religious differences. Your mother had all kinds of Jewish friends; I don’t see why she’d distrust Protestants on religious grounds.”

“This really isn’t appropriate to discuss in front of Bertram,” his father said dismissively. As if Bertram hadn’t pieced together that his parents had had premarital sex - they’d gotten together during the Weimar Republic, and… really, was he supposed to believe that they’d just chatted while his maternal grandfather lay badly wounded in a hospital bed in Munich? It wasn’t as if his father’s family had the best record in that - hell, he was sure Aleida was the only one who’d waited until she was married (Niki definitely had not, nor had Maxi - although Niki at least did seem intent on marrying Atsuko should he ever get the nerve to inform his parents he was dating a girl who belonged to some Eastern religion rather than a good Catholic girl, or even a Protestant or a Jewish girl). His own father had been conceived out of wedlock, although in his grandparents’ defence, according to Bertram’s own calculations, only two months in advance, and he knew his grandparents had had a very long engagement, so it likely hadn’t been a scandal when his father was born a mere seven months after the wedding. But for his father to act as if Bertram had no idea what sex was, or that his parents had done it before they’d gotten married… well, he didn’t see why they kept up the pretence.

“Papa, it’s not like I don’t know why Oma didn’t like Mama to begin with,” he said. “Mama wouldn’t like Diana if I’d been… well… which I haven’t!” he added quickly. “Her father’s count; I would never!”

“Bertram,” his father warned.

“I’m twenty-four, almost twenty-five. Older than either of you were when you got married. It’s not as if I don’t know. I might even beat Maxi’s record. He was twenty-six when he got married. And it’s not as if he’d never done anything beforehand either.” He took another sip of his wine. He was spared a reply from his parents (although not their warning looks) by the waiter bringing their food. Just in time.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 5/8

Setting. 1955. West-Berlin.

-

As it turned out, he didn’t have long to stall. His parents were coming up to visit their oldest friends, Juliana and Rodelind, two weeks after his first date with Diana - and he was only more convinced by the day that what he and Diana had was… well, what he’d always wanted to have. The “spark” about which his father, uncle, grandfather, and even cousin spoke was there with Diana.

His parents, naturally, wanted him to come to dinner with them. He enjoyed meeting with Juliana and Rodelind, anyway. He was old enough to realise that they were together - they insisted they were married, although the paperwork that they’d filled out had never been properly filed. The two women lived together in Templehof, and Bertram knew, really, he ought to visit them more often.

But that was beside the fact: he was expected at dinner at some restaurant of Juliana and Rodelind’s choosing, and he had to tell his parents that he was dating a Lutheran.

Wasn’t Rodelind a Lutheran, too? He didn’t think she was Catholic. He hoped she would back him up.

Niki clapped his shoulder as he prepared to leave. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Bertram said. “I’ll need it.”

“Eh, if they freak out, I’ll just tell them I’m eloping with a Japanese girl who’s not even Christian. That ought to get the attention off of you.”

Bertram was grateful for the sentiment, but something in his cousin’s words struck him. “You’re not eloping, are you?”

“Are you kidding?” Niki laughed. “My parents would disown me and then I’d have to work for a living. Papa shouldn’t be too angry with me marrying Atsuko. My mother will get over it. But… only if I propose and do everything by the book.” He slumped his shoulders. “Man, how do you handle being actual nobility? If my family was all just actors, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“No, you’d just get to tell your friends stories about how your father and grandfather got out of fighting in the wars by working in propaganda.” Bertram rolled his eyes. “I’ll be home tonight if my parents don’t tie me up and force me to come back to Munich with them.”

Niki grinned. “I’ll try not to sell your things until I’m sure you’re back in Munich.”

“Thanks,” Bertram said dryly. He left and walked to the U-Bahn station, feeling as if the knots in his stomach were multiplying. He tried to shake it off, and remind himself how open and loving his parents were, but it didn’t really serve to assuage his anxiety.

He left the U-Bahn and walked to the restaurant, where Rodelind was waiting outside. She looked the same as always; her now strawberry-blonde hair, which he’d heard had once been red, was styled in fashionable, yet age-appropriate curls, and she dressed… well, like the wife of a film director, which, Bertram supposed, she was. She didn’t wear heels, but then she never did if she could help it, as otherwise she’d tower over Juliana.

“Bertram!” she greeted, moving to embrace him.

Bertram accepted the embrace. “Hello, Aunt Rode,” he said. Rodelind wasn’t technically his aunt - she wasn’t even technically Niki’s aunt - but she and Juliana were so close with his parents that it was only respectful to refer to her this way. Of course… he hoped he never had to explain the intricacies of having a lesbian ex-girlfriend who’d gone on and “married” another woman after having split up to his children. But it wasn’t as if, as his uncle’s sister, Juliana wasn’t going to be in Bertram’s life in some capacity, anyway - and so would Rodelind, by extension.

He was careful who he talked to about Rodelind and Juliana. His entire family knew, of course, and it had taken all of the children a while to determine the nature of their relationship. His father, when asked, had hedged around the topic a bit, but in the end had said that he hadn’t been about to cut his best friend out of his life for something as trivial as whom she loved (provided, of course, Wilhelm had always clarified, that whom she loved was not a Nazi or a communist, and Rodelind was merely a social democrat).

“How have you been?” she asked, releasing him.

“I’ve been well,” he said, and it was the truth. Besides everything going so spectacularly, really, with Diana, his job at the firm was going well, too. He’d just helped a client reach a settlement that they hadn’t expected, and, well, coming in every day to see Diana at her desk in the office next to his certainly didn’t hurt, either. “How about you?”

“Wonderful,” Rodelind said simply. “Your parents are waiting inside for you,” she added.

So Bertram followed her inside, and hoped beyond hope that his parents would be okay with his dating a Lutheran.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 4/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin Dahlem. An interlude.

-

As to be expected with artists (or, at least, Bertram supposed), his cousin Nicklaus, or Niki as he prefered to be called, constantly had his girlfriend over to their apartment. Bertram had been a bit surprised to say the least that his cousin had brought home a Japanese girl, but he found it rather poetic that the son of a propaganda film star was in love with about the least German girl in all of Berlin. Atsuko wasn’t even Christian, Niki had told him once. Niki had, obviously, as of yet neglected to introduce the girl to his parents.

“Hey!” Niki called when he heard the door. Bertam went into the living room. As expected, Niki and Atsuko were curled up together on the couch. Bertram wondered why Atsuko even bothered to pay for student housing. He also wondered why he hadn’t told his aunt and uncle what was going on yet. “How’d your date go?”

“Really well,” Bertram said, still feeling like he was dreaming. “She… really seems interested.”

“That’s great!” Niki enthused. “She Catholic?”

He knew, of course, how important that was to Bertram’s parents - how important that was to his parents, too. Bertram hesitated for a second before saying, “Lutheran. But… I don’t think my parents will be too upset over that. After all… my mother was a Protestant, and she converted to marry my father, and your grandfather was a Lutheran and never had to cover to marry your grandmother.”

“Yeah, and her father was a merchant, not a baron.”

“Her father’s a count. Diana’s, I mean. Besides… how many good Catholic girls even live in Berlin? Most upper-class women here are Lutheran.” At least, he hoped his parents would see it that way, too.

“Well,” Niki said, “You should probably let them know before they meet her.”

It was rich coming from a boy who hadn’t even told his parents that he’d had a girlfriend for very nearly a year straight, but… well, he did have a point. “I was planning on it,” Bertram said. And it was true; his parents needed to know something like that ahead of time.

It was only a matter of how long he could put it off.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 3/8

Setting: 1955. West-Berlin.

-

He was lucky, really, that he’d managed the restaurant he had - although in truth, he hadn’t done much; he’d called in a favor to his uncle, whom Bertram knew to be a completely hopeless romantic, and the actor had called in some favors and pulled some strings, and now Bertram was taking Diana to a really top class restaurant, settled in the French occupation zone.

He picked her up at her parents’ house, as promised, at eight in the evening. Of course, he was invited inside so that her parents could ensure that he was an upstanding gentleman - which he was, by all standards. They hadn’t asked as many questions as he’d anticipated, and Bertram and Diana were free to leave by a quarter after the hour. He showed her to his car, opened the door for her, and let her inside. He hoped that she couldn’t tell how sweaty his palms were through her gloves, and he told himself that there was no way for her to hear his heart thumping out of his chest, especially once he started the car.

“So,” Diana began once Bertram started driving. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“I got us reservations for a French restaurant in the north,” he said. “And… then, if that goes well… I thought we might go dancing? That is, if you’d like to do that.”

He saw Diana smile out of the corner of his eye, and he reminded himself to pay attention to the road. A car crash would certainly ruin the night. Fortunately, though, Diana didn’t seem to need him to look at her, at least while he was driving. She answered, “That sounds wonderful.”

He really was on cloud nine.

They made light small talk as he drove to the restaurant, and Diana insisted upon using first names, if still “Sie”, which was, really, more than Bertram could have hoped for.(1) He swore his heart skipped a bear when she said, “Bertram… that’s a very nice name.”

They arrived at the restaurant in one piece, and he made sure to open her door for her, like a proper gentleman. She thanked him and held onto his arm as he escorted her into the restaurant. The maitre d’ hôtel asked for their name, so Bertram gave them his, and - Bertam could scarcely believe it - the maître d’hôtel showed them to their table. Of course, he’d known his uncle loved him and wanted to help, and he didn’t doubt that his uncle was sure there was a reservation, but Bertram had been a bit anxious that the reservation would have been under his uncle’s name, and then he’d have to explain the whole thing to Diana right there rather than as some charming anecdote months down the line. But they were seated, and of course Bertram pulled her chair out for her, and they received their menus.

“Order anything you’d like,” Bertram said. He hoped he was being charming, and for what it was worth, she smiled at him. He ordered a bottle of merlot for the two of them to share, and let her place her own order (at least, that’s what he thought he ought to do; he hoped she hadn’t anticipated him ordering for her).

“It’s hard to imagine we can sit here and order merlot now when just a few years ago, all the food had to be airlifted into the city.”

“I was still in Munich at the time,” he said. “My parents were very reluctant to let me go to university here; they were afraid it’d happen again.”

“Oh, I moved to Berlin afterward, as well. During my summer holidays.”

She didn’t seem to have an accent atypical to the region - or any accent at all, really, so he saw no harm in asking, “Where did you move from?”

“Nowawes,” she said. “But it was annexed into Potsdam when I was a child.”(2)

“My uncle spent the war in Babelsberg,” Bertram said, grateful to have some common ground. “He shot some films there; his sister was a director, although she, uh, ended up fleeing to America in thirty-five. She came back to the Federal Republic a couple years after the war, but she hasn’t, to my knowledge, directed any films since then.”

“What was her name? Maybe I’ve seen some of her work.”

“Juliana Muhlfeld. She’s my father’s sister’s husband’s sister.”

“And her brother was an actor?”

“Yes,” Bertram said, “Rolf Muhlfeld. He still is an actor, actually. Their father was a stage actor in the Republic, Wernher. Also… somehow, my grandfather’s best friend.”

Diana smiled, but raised an eyebrow quizzically. “You seem to have some close contacts with artists for a lawyer. Are you the black sheep in your family?”

Bertram shook his head. “Not at all. All the men in my family, at least my father’s side, have been lawyers. My family really emphasised education, and made my aunt go to a girls’ gymnasium rather than a lyceum. They tried to get her to go to university, too, but she just wanted to be a housewife. Her mother - my grandmother - never understood it. She was practically in the first class of women admitted to university in Munich - studied law and history.”

“...A woman lawyer?”

“Oh, she never practised,” Bertram said. “It would have been impossible; could you imagine, a woman lawyer in the last days of the Empire? But she used it and her status to get my father out of the First World War.”

“She did?”

“Good thing she did, too, or else I wouldn’t be here. My father was granted permission to work at an army hospital, and that’s where he met my mother. She was from East Prussia, so it’s not as if they’d have met otherwise.” He took a sip of his merlot, vaguely aware that he was rambling. “A-anyway, what about your family?”

“Oh,” Diana said. “That’s not very interesting. My father was born a count, my mother’s father was born a count, and despite all the Reich’s efforts, my parents only ever had my sister and I. I’d love to claim my father was in the resistance or something exciting, but, well, you’ve just met him, so that’s clearly not true. He did what everyone else did, and my mother tried to teach my sister and I compassion for all people. My sister used to wander around Neu-Babelsberg after school to see if she could find any film stars - but that was before the war. We had a bombing campaign in forty and that was enough for my mother to take us to a family estate in Mecklenburg. We moved back home after the war, and our house was still standing, but my father chafed under Soviet control, so we moved to Wannsee in forty-nine. My sister’s married to a man in Schleswig-Holstein, so we still see her on holidays.”

“I have a brother,” Bertram volunteered. “Maxi. Max. Maximilian. He’s five years my elder, and he tried to get out of the draft - it didn’t work. He was in the East. The only one of my family to be; half of them were stationed in France, and my father - he was drafted, and he had military training - he was in the West, too, most of the war. My mother took me to my father’s family estate in Bavaria. My brother… was a prisoner for a while, and he never talks about it, but now he’s married to a woman named Hanne and they have a son called Erich.”

“Does your family look like you?”

“Well,” Bertram said, “we all have blue eyes. My mother’s hair’s brown, and so’s my brother, but my dad’s hair’s red. My aunt, though, has blonde hair and brown eyes, so I guess we don’t all have blue eyes. Her son, actually, Nicklaus, started studying here last year, on condition that he lived with me - which I wouldn’t have objected to, anyway. We feel like we have to stay close, besides - we’re Bavarians in a foreign land.”

“Well,” Diana said with a light laugh. “I’m Prussian, so I wouldn’t know anything about that. Wannsee is terribly like Babelsberg, only the occupying soldiers are kinder.” She took a sip of her wine. “Is your brother a lawyer, too?”

Bertram nodded. “Constitutional law. Which is… a bit tricky now, but he’s doing well. All my family except for two cousins live in Munich, and… honestly, I don’t think it’ll be long at all before my aunt and uncle leave. They’re already beside themselves letting their only son study in Berlin alone - despite the fact that he’s not alone. But they have a daughter who’ll enter Gymnasium in a few years, and I feel like they’ll move up here then if it doesn’t disturb her too much.”

“They have a daughter in primary school and a son in university?”

“Oh, their eldest, my cousin Aleida, is older than I am. Meike, their youngest, was… a special case, I think.” At least that’s how he thought he should refer to his cousin being an unplanned (but very much wanted) pregnancy. “Aleida lives in Hamburg,” he added.

“Do you have any family in the East?”

“No one that I’ve met,” Bertram said. “But my paternal great-grandfather came from Prussia, as did my mother, so I’m sure I’ve some extended family in the East or even in Poland. But I’ve never met them in that case. I suppose that’s what happens when your entire family settles in Bavaria. What about you?”

“No immediate family,” she said, “but I do have some cousins who can’t make up their minds whether to stay or go. Most of them after the revolt(3), but I think some of them… some of them find the idea of socialism appealing.”

“Well,” Bertram said slowly. “It is appealing. My family were largely monarchists and centrists, but it’s easy to see, living in a city, how working hard doesn’t always give you the result you deserve, and a system where everyone has their basic needs provided for by the state can be seductive. But for me… I’m a Christian Democrat.”(4)

“Oh, I’m not political,” Diana said. “Neither are my parents. But I am a Christian.”

He saw his opening, and he knew he had to. “Protestant or Catholic, out of curiosity?”

“Protestant. Lutheran. I hope that’s not an issue.”

Of course she was. His parents were sure to be thrilled about that, but Bertram wasn’t about to let that ruin a potentially fruitful relationship.  “Not if it’s one that I’m Catholic,” he said.

“Oh, my father doesn’t care. He just wants me to marry a man who treats me well and who can support me financially.” She took a sip of her wine. “Although, we’ll have to have a family discussion later on about our children.”

“Our children?” he repeated. He’d thought this was going okay, but he hadn’t dared hope that she was thinking that far ahead.

Diana nodded. “Of course. I want to have children.”

“W-with me?”

“Unless you’re opposed…”

“I’m not opposed!” he insisted in what was probably, honestly, a bit too manic a tone. “I just… I had no earthly idea that you were thinking this far ahead…! But that’s great!” He took a sip of his wine, trying to stall and to gather his thoughts into something coherent. “I… had no idea you were as interested in me as I am in you, that’s all!”

Diana looked slightly put off, and Bertram hoped desperately that he hadn’t let everything go to hell. “You didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

“Well, I’ve always greeted you in the mornings. I greet Herr Strohmann, of course, but I don’t greet any of the other lawyers… just you. I must admit… my first impression of you was that you were very handsome, and that you seemed very kind.”

Bertram temporarily found himself unable to form coherent words. “You… you thought that I was handsome?” he managed.

Diana smiled. “Of course.”

He went to reply, but was interrupted by the server bringing them their meals. The rest of the night went, at least in Bertram’s eyes, surprisingly well, although Diana didn’t make any more comments about their future children together. They went dancing after dinner, and he managed to get her back home before her curfew. She kissed his cheek before they got out of his car, making it clear that she didn’t want her parents to know. He walked her to the door, and said goodbye, and promised to take her out again the following weekend. She smiled and thanked him for a lovely evening, and then went inside.

He went home feeling like he was on cloud nine.

--------

NOTES:

“Sie” is the formal form of address; being young people in the 1950s they probably could switch to the informal form on a first date, but they’re both born and bred nobility, so I had them keep this last layer of formality

Nowawes / Potsdam / Babelsberg is right on the southwestern border of Berlin, next to Wannsee. From 1945-49 it was part of the Soviet occupation zone, and from 1949-90 it was part of East Germany.

She is referring to the 1953 East German civilian revolt, which was brutally suppressed with help from Soviet tanks

Christian Democrat: German centre-right party, focused on “family values” and Christian faith. Generally like pre-Reagan Republicans. This party was favored by the American occupiers due to their “christian” traditionalism, and so supported by the actual occupying forces because America loves propping up specific political parties in other countries.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 2/8

Setting: 1955, West Berlin.

-

This is perhaps the place to say, firmly, that Bertram had had girlfriends before. They’d always been of the same class - wealthy, often former nobility, almost always daughters of lawyers or politicians or doctors. He had never, however, felt that “spark” which every man in his family - from his grandfather to his father and uncle to his elder brother - assured him he’d feel when he met his future wife. His girlfriends, without fail, had been pretty and polite, and, most importantly: Catholic. Perhaps it wasn’t the most viable path in Berlin, but Bertram’s entire family were proud Catholics, and he wasn’t sure how they’d react if he even mentioned being interested in a Protestant girl. So it was best, really, to avoid them, or at least, to avoid any sort of romantic entanglements with them. And he’d found enough Catholic girls, even in Berlin, that he didn’t imagine it would be an issue.

That is, however, until he met Diana von Grimmelshausen. According to Dagmar, Diana was nineteen years old, and a local girl - not someone who’d moved to Berlin to try to make something of herself. And, well, just a glance at her confirmed that - not that Bertram spent a lot of time looking at a secretary; he was a professional. It wasn’t as if he ever let himself get distracted by her shiny, orange hair. He’d been surprised the first time he’d seen her stand - she was extremely tall for a lady; he’d wager she was probably around 1.75 meters.(1) But then in his personal experience, dating short girls had never panned out so well - he was 1.88 meters himself, and tended to tower over women.(2) It wasn’t as if he was athletic to make up for that - no; the men in his family were skinny at best - and the women, too, now that he thought on it. His mother and grandmother were exceptions, but his aunt, his father’s sister, was also very slender. Bertram himself was past skinny - he was outright scrawny, something which his grandmother always tried (and failed) to rectify when he came to visit. It was true, to be sure, that he was no longer as scrawny as he’d been when he’d moved to Berlin, but he wasn’t sure that he looked like a proper, well-fed son of an aristocrat. That wasn’t to mention the freckles which covered his body, nor his spectacles nor gingery-brown hair which never seemed to sit the way he wanted.

He’d scarcely felt so self-conscious before, but when he came in to see Diana (whose desk he had to pass on his way in), and she smiled at him and greeted him with a cheery, “Good Morning, Herr von Brandt!” he really couldn’t help it. Self-conscious was the least of his problems. He’d managed to reply with a seemingly confident, “Good Morning, Fräulein von Grimmelshausen,” because, really, it wouldn’t do to call her by her first name. He shouldn’t even think of her by her first name, really.(3)

Dagmar always gave him a knowing look, and Bertram found himself wishing she’d get married already, and leave him alone.

He continued in this vein for longer than he was proud of, but eventually he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was interested in Diana von Grimmelshausen. And the firm didn’t have any regulations against dating someone else’s secretary; you just couldn’t date your own. After all, didn’t most secretaries do such work to try to find a husband with a good job?

So, after two months of torture, he built up his nerve. After all, if she said no, she’d have said no, and he’d have an answer. One day, he lagged a bit behind during his lunch break, hesitating at Diana’s desk.

“Uh, Fräulein von Grimmelshausen?” he asked, trying to seem confident.

“Yes, Herr von Brandt?” She looked up at him with her beautiful emerald eyes. God, she was simply stunning. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose, and Bertram wondered how something so unattractive on him could be so beautiful on her.

“I… I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me this Friday?”

She smiled, and Bertram felt his stomach twist. “I’d love to,” she said. “I live in Wannsee. You can pick me up at eight.”

“I… really?” So much for confident. He tried to will himself to stay as calm as possible. After all… she could always change her mind.

But Diana nodded. “Really,” she assured him.

Bertram managed to regain some of his composure at her assurance. “I’ll pick you up on Friday, then,” he said.

“I’ll send you a memo with my address.”

Bertram really, really couldn’t believe his luck, and he felt light-headed for the rest of the day.

It was only when he arrived home that night that he realised that it was Wednesday, and he’d failed to make any sort of reservation anywhere in all of western Berlin.

-------

NOTES

Diana is, per the American measurement system, 5′9″

Bertram is, by the same marker, 6′2″

German in the 1950s still had a significant level of formality, and while I, as a young person working with someone my age, might call a coworker by their first name in modern Germany, in the 1950s this would be a faux pas unless permission was given.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUEL. BERTRAM & DIANA. 1/8

Setting: 1955, West-Berlin.

-

For Bertram von Brandt, Berlin was still… different. But in a pleasant way. He barely remembered prewar Munich, and all his memories of the War were of his grandparents’ estate home nestled securely in the Bavarian countryside, which his family had all shared: Bertram, his mother, his father (once he’d returned from the war, wounded), his aunt and her children (his cousins Aleida and Nicklaus), and his grandparents. His brother, Maxi, had been in the East during the majority of the war, and his uncle, Rolf, filmed the entire time in Babelsberg…

Bertram had been a child - only fifteen when the war was over - and his parents had done their best to shield him from toxic ideology. It didn’t help to watch the films his uncle had starred in - and, as Bertram got older and became more aware of the world, he wondered how in the world that was a fair trade. His father had lost a leg, to be sure, but he’d also done significantly less damage than his brother-in-law had with his films. And Bertram was sure that his father had a much clearer conscience than his uncle. Or, well, at least, that’s what he told himself.

There seemed to be, to him, a dark cloud over Munich. Compared to horror stories he’d heard of Soviet occupation, he supposed they were well off in Munich, but his grandparents’ house in the Au was still standing and he walked by where that beer hall had been a bit too often for his liking. Munich was where it had really started, and Bertram wanted to get out.

He’d considered Hamburg, or maybe Heidelberg, but ultimately had decided against it; it didn’t seem like the right option. But then his uncle - of course it had been his uncle - had mentioned in passing that the American sector of Berlin was building a new university. He’d heard it from some connection who’d moved from Babelsberg to Wannsee to avoid Soviet occupation, and had mentioned it off-hand at a family dinner, where the von Brandts and the Muhlfelds ate every Sunday night in Bertram’s grandparents’ formal dining room.

And, well, Bertram thought, maybe there wouldn’t be a dark cloud over the American sector in Berlin. So he’d applied - and he’d applied to Hamburg and Heidelberg, too, for good measure - in the summer of 1949. He’d received his acceptance to all three, and decided to go to Berlin for that fall. His parents secured an apartment for him in Dahlem, although they’d certainly not been shy to voice their trepidations, and he moved there to carry on the family business: law. After all, if he ever decided to go back to Munich, a state exam was valid throughout the country, even still.

He’d graduated with good marks in 1953, ahead of schedule, and he’d secured a position at a reputable law firm in Steglitz, not far from his apartment in Dahlem. He’d chosen to specialise in family law, and he loved it. It certainly wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but he found the payoff was absolutely worth it. His coworkers were pleasant enough to deal with, and the secretaries at the firm were top tier, and before Bertram knew it, he’d been at the firm for two years.

Secretaries tended to be less permanent than lawyers, and when Otto’s secretary, Elke, had left to get married, Bertram didn’t think much of it. A new girl would take her place, and the other girls would show her the ropes. He was satisfied with his secretary, Dagmar, and her quality of work; the two of them had worked together since his very first day, and Bertram wondered what he’d do when she inevitably left to get married. She’d been an immeasurable help, really.

Elke’s replacement started the day after Elke left.

-----

NOTES

Those of you following this convoluted universe of OCs may recognise some of the references to an old (even more) convoluted RP I used to run on here, set in Weimar Munich. Bertram is the inevitable youngest nephew of Rolf & Elisabeth Muhlfeld (her brother’s son).

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

PREQUELS.

I wanted to try my hand at a pretty traditional short story volume, chronicling how everyone’s parents got together. The general story is huge and nebulous and in no way in chronological order.

I wanted to write, at least, the story of Klaus’s parents, of Amalia & Lilli’s parents, and of Werner’s parents. I may extend this to Isabel’s parents (although that would be Paris rather than [west-]Berlin), and thus far I’ve only finished one to my satisfaction.

It’s perhaps the easiest one to write, as the background I’ve given provides a harmonious relationship and more or less typical backstory to the relationship, so it was a good jumping board.

The first set of prequels, published in parts, will be Klaus’s parents, Bertram and Diana von Brandt.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 13/13

December 1989.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Her attempts at subtle manipulation usually worked, but when it mattered, they ignored her and now everyone involved would end up miserable.

Well, except for Amalia.

Why would she be miserable? She just didn't feel like cleaning up someone else's mess and assuring Klaus that he'd find some... crazy cat lady or someone who liked Star Wars and wanted a small herd of children.

She had bigger things to worry about, anyway. She had presentations coming up, and she needed to make sure she notated everything so she could have a head start on her papers. She never even liked Star Wars that much to begin with, honestly.

Two days later, there was a note on her word processor when she'd gone to work on her presentations. Well. More like a letter.

Amalia,

You know I've never been bad at handling my emotions, but I need to write this out – you'd never let me finish if I tried to say this in person. And I need to finish.

I love you so much – like I said the other night, you're the love of my life, beyond any shadow of a doubt. I wish we could be together, but you've made it clear that that's not what you want – and that's okay with me! I promise!

More than anything, I want you to be happy, and I want to make sure you and I stay in each other's lives. I don't think that's too much to ask.

You don't want to be with me, and that's fine. Britta does, and I'm glad you're okay with that – but part of me wishes you weren't, that there was a chance for us. But there's not, and logically, I know that.

If things don't work out with Britta, and if you decide you want to be with me, I'll be here, but I can't waste my entire life hoping you'll fall in love with me. I've known, really, since I was seventeen that WE would never happen. I've come to terms with it.

Like I said: I just want you to be happy.

Tell me what I can do to help make you happy and I'll do it, okay?

All my love,

Klaus

She wanted to throw the note in the trash, but instead she tucked it away. “As evidence of his insanity,” she told herself.

(And just a week later, she would realise that her period was two weeks late, and wish more than ever that she'd just told Klaus outright that Britta hated kids – that there'd never be any future for the two of them... not like there was a future for Klaus and Amalia, but at least Amalia thought someday she'd want to adopt.)

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 12/13

November 1989.

Everyone remembered where they were on 9 November 1989 when the Wall fell.

Unfortunately for Amalia, she'd been studying in the library and had rolled her eyes at the whispers on the way home. The Berlin Wall had been standing since before she was born – her mother had lived through the erection of the Wall, but no one in their right might would ever assume that the “anti-fascist” border would fall.

Klaus was nowhere to be found, so Amalia assumed he was out with Britta, and she spent the rest of that historic night in West Berlin in her study in Steglitz.

The next morning, there was a box on her night table with a note on top.

Sorry for coming into your room, but I thought you'd appreciate this, future Doctor of History, and I couldn't wait to give it to you. Love, K.

She opened the box to find a chunk of concrete. What the hell was this?

It was a Thursday, so Klaus was at work. Amalia had an afternoon class, so she watched the news when she got downstairs.

Apparently the whispers hadn't been nonsense. Just like that – overnight – the border between East and West Berlin was open, and she, a fucking future historian, had been in fucking Steglitz.

Her mind went back to the note and chunk of concrete. That couldn't be a piece of the Wall... could it?

(It was; Klaus and Britta had been in Tiergarten when it'd happened, and it wasn't a long walk to the Wall – people had been tearing it down by force, and Klaus had pocketed a piece, unable to believe what was happening).

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 11/13

October 1989.

Werner and Isabel were having their usual Halloween party at the end of the month, and Klaus suggested they go together, “as friends!” he'd clarified. Britta had said she was busy. Amalia thought Britta probably just didn't want to be around small children – she always seemed to have excuses for avoiding Werner and Isabel's, and Amalia doubted it had to do with Werner or Isabel themselves. Britta was the kind of person who'd try her best to get to know her significant others' friends.

Besides, Werner had as good as confirmed it, in private. Of course, telling Klaus that would mean telling Klaus that she and Werner got along passably when it was just the two of them and Liane (well, and Isabel, too – maybe Klaus was the stressor there).

Werner and Isabel were well known for their couples' costumes, and this year, they planned to be a milkman and a fifties housewife. Amalia asked them if they even knew what a milkman was. “I know it's part of a joke,” Werner said stubbornly. “And they wear white!”

But it wasn't a couples' party, and for that Amalia was grateful. So she agreed to go with Klaus as friends, and he said he'd pick out their costumes. After making absolutely sure that he was not going to try to dress her as Princess Leia, she relented.

So on the day before the party, she got home from class to find a clothing box on her bed with a note.

I promised no Princess Leia, and I even managed no Star Wars, too. Hope you like it. <3 K.

She opened the box to find an exact replica of Willie Scott's red dress from the first Indiana Jones movie. Well, Amalia realised he could have easily given her the dress from the Austrian Nazi in the most recent movie. This is what she got for focusing on class instead of picking her own costume.

He'd even included a photo for reference for her hair and makeup. Well. At least she looked good in red.

(And, of course, everyone at the party, save Werner and Isabel, thought they were a couple. She wondered if that had been part of his plan.)

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 10/13

September 1989.

She'd finished the rough drafts of her seminar papers a week ago, and under normal circumstances, she'd ask Klaus to look through them for her, but he'd been in a mood ever since her last one night stand with Daniel (who had left at nine the next morning, so it wasn't as if he'd even hung around all day!), so this time, she was going to try to read through them herself. After all, her only other possible proofreader was Lilli, who was proud of her 3,3 GPA in American Studies – and considering they'd gone to a German-American school, that should have been the easiest degree possible. Klaus might not be as smart as Amalia herself, but he'd graduated law school with a 2,7, which for law was about as good as a 1,3. He was also an excellent proofreader besides.

She went into her study to work on the papers, and found them in the folders where she'd left them. She opened the folders and found, to her surprise, a note from Klaus.

I know you didn't ask, but I proofread them anyway. Corrections, as I could offer, are in the margins. Still don't get why you took that American history class, but if that professor doesn't give you a 1,0 he's an idiot. <3 K.

If he was back at drawing hearts on his notes, Amalia knew they were good.

Now she could go right to corrections.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 9/13

August 1989.

She knew better, really, and it wasn't as if she and Klaus weren't having sex anymore. So he was back with his old girlfriend, Britta, who was one of Amalia's friends, and Amalia didn't care. Britta had apparently insisted upon an open relationship, so Amalia was free to sleep with Klaus basically as much as she wanted.

So she didn't know why she called Daniel at eleven at night, but he showed up at her door less than half an hour later.

In the morning, she woke up before Daniel, for once, and went to go to the bathroom when she spotted a piece of paper on the floor that had not been there the night before. She reached down and picked it up.

Some people have work in the mornings. Keep it quiet next time, okay?

Wait... was Klaus actually annoyed that she'd invited her ex-boyfriend to spend the night when he'd gotten back together with his ex?

Ass.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 8/13

July 1989.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Klaus had friends besides her, Lilli, and Werner. But he did, and some of his American friends had invited him to some Fourth of July party. They were friends from high school, and Amalia was pretty sure they'd lived in Germany longer than America, so she didn't see why they still insisted they were so American. Klaus had asked her to come with him. Amalia had rolled her eyes and said she'd be fine at home with the cat and her books. She still had that biography of Pappenheim to finish, anyway.

Klaus had sighed and gone without her.

The next morning, she woke up to a hastily-written note on her door.

Ama – PLEASE don't barge into my room without knocking in the morning. K.

Well, that was strange, but she had a biography to finish. She went into her study to find Sushi sleeping on her settee, which could only mean one thing.

But she'd have known if Klaus had had a girlfriend, surely. And he definitely wasn't the one night stand type; she sincerely doubted he'd ever even fucked another girl.

She buried herself in her book and stroked Sushi, telling herself that she wasn't bothered by this development.

[abenteuerinwestberlin]

NOTES. 7/13

June 1989.

Her birthday had, technically, started while in the middle of sex, but as soon as Klaus had seen that the clock had struck midnight, he'd whispered a “happy birthday” and kissed her neck.

He'd had to leave for work in the morning, as it was a weekday, and Amalia, continuing her tradition of refusing to work or go to school on her birthday, slept in. She knew Klaus would probably want to take her out to lunch, but she didn't think that necessitated waking up at eight for more than a few groggy minutes as he kissed her cheek and wished her a happy birthday again.

As she'd come to expect, there was a note on his pillow when she woke up. He must have written it after she'd fallen back asleep.

Happy birthday (again!) I have a surprise for you this weekend – I'll tell you at lunch. Have a good morning! All my love, K.

Surprise for the weekend? She'd expected a physical present at lunch, but... was he planning a weekend away together? She wasn't his girlfriend. They were just friends... who slept together. But that was it.

-

He met her at her favourite restaurant, an Indian place that had plenty of vegetarian options to choose from. He had a gift bag in hand, and Amalia felt a considerable weight slide off her shoulders. So it wasn't a weekend away – he wouldn't do both for her.

He handed the present to her, and kissed her cheek.

“What was that note about?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I'd wanted to lead up to it, but what the hell. Remember my grandpa's friend? The one who worked for UFA?”

Amalia nodded.

“Well, her niece managed to get us a tour of DEFA. Afterward, I thought we could see the palaces in Potsdam. I mean... we shouldn't wear anything that screams 'Wessi' or anything, but... what do you think?”

“I'm relieved,” she said. “I was afraid you were planning some romantic getaway.”

Klaus laughed. “I know you're not interested in that. The DEFA tour is Saturday. I'd have loved to book us this one hotel in Potsdam – it's a palace, really, and you can stay in the former Crown Prince's quarters, and I know you'd love that, but... we're not supposed to stay in the East past midnight without special permission, and 'it's her birthday' doesn't cut it, I think.”

“Mm, maybe I could always apply for some extended visa to visit my grandmother...”

“Who you've never met.”

“Don't you have relatives in the East?”

Klaus shrugged. “Lots of 'em. Dad's family was originally from Prussia, so I imagine there are a lot of von Brandts floating around the DDR.”

“What about your mom's family?” Amalia asked.

“Everyone she knew moved to West Berlin before the Wall went up. Her father was a count before '18, you know. The Soviet Sector wasn't exactly their ideal place to live.”

“Explains why your mother was so enthusiastic about all of your nerdy American friends,” Amalia said with a smirk.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Just open your present.”

So she did.

(It was a set of biographies – Mary Wollstonecraft, Bertha Pappenheim, and Simone de Beauvoir. Tucked in the dust cover of the Beauvoir biography was a gift certificate to her favourite lingerie store.)

--------

[note: Mary Wollstonecraft and Simone de Beauvoir, for those who don’t know, are largely regarded as feminist philosophers - Bertha Pappenheim was a Jewish feminist and translator, largely known for translating the journals of Glikl bas Judah Leib / Glückel von Hameln.]