Strawberry Fields Forever

The slow, cruel hands of time moved the clock hands mercilessly, two millimeters each minute. Matt felt like a lamb to the slaughter, like a child who kicked in a window and waited for the owner to come and scold him. It amazed him how all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like a mature adult anymore. He hoped he would be able to handle all of it smoothly.

Matt was under no illusions that her parents would give him a fair chance. In the past hours, Amelie recounted stories about her town, and what happened to those who dated older men, for example.

Until then, Matt thought her village was kind and everyone helped everyone out, but in fact, he learned it was not. People were mean, and they just waited for someone to make a mistake. Amelie said they would be the talk of the town before they even touched ground in Munich.

The hours passed. Matt played cards and some iPad games with the boys one at a time, and Amelie slept most of the time. She didn’t eat. It amazed Matt that she could sleep even though she was clearly nervous. For him, tiredness and nervousness did not mix, resulting in the tiredness having to subordinate. The closer the landing got, the more nervous Matt became.

But there was no way to stop the plane. No godly force intervened. No medical emergency forced them to land in London, or in Ireland, or anywhere else but Franz Joseph Strauss international airport in Munich. Nothing happened. The plane touched ground at precisely the time the German pilot had predicted with his heavy accent. German efficiency, Matt thought.

Said German efficiency accompanied their entire after-landing procedures. The doors were opened immediately after the plane reached its final parking position. Matt chuckled at all the memories of landings in the States, when he had to wait a long time, sometimes hours, before he could leave the plane. It was an epic of time wasted.

Over all, Matt thought, he had probably spent a good ten days of his life in planes, waiting for the doors to open. But not in Germany.

The immigration process was incredibly fast. There were several machines that read passport data and then took a picture of him in order to determine if it the guy with Matthew Charles Sanders’ passport was indeed Matthew Charles Sanders. It was even quicker for Amelie as a German or EU citizen. Their luggage was already on the conveyor belt when they reached the baggage claim area.

They passed customs and Matt’s heart felt like someone tied a rope around it and squeezed it real hard. He was carrying passed out Cash. River had his tiny hand in Amelie’s, and Matt couldn’t help but sigh at how good it looked. If only she were a little older, or at least from Cali, or anywhere but this rural town in the most conservative state of Germany.

“Amelie,” sounded a woman’s voice from behind the glass separating the baggage claim hall from the rest of the airport building. She pronounced the name so different from what Matt thought was right. It almost sounded like “Ah-melee” with an A so dark it didn’t even exist in the American English language.

He watched as Amelie ran towards a couple in their mid-fifties, feeling misplaced. The woman wore her dark brown hair just a little over her ears with bangs, and Amelie’s dad was half-bald. His remaining hair and his full beard were turning gray, giving him a stricter appearance.

Amelie’s eyes shone as she motioned Matt to come closer. The smiles on her parents’ faces subsided, a mere curious look remained. “You must be Matthew,” her mom said with a hard accent. Politely, Matt shook her hand and introduced himself. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Richter.” He then turned to face Amelie’s dad and repeated his actions.

Then he lifted up his kids and introduced them to Mr. and Mrs. Richter. He tried to read their expressions, but didn’t succeed. Were they angry? Did they want him to leave immediately? For the rest of the walk to the car, they spoke in German. Matt didn’t understand a word, but he heard his name a couple of times. Amelie’s voice sounded soft and soothing when she talked, so Matt thought it couldn’t be as bad.

Come what may, he thought, and he was determined to live according to that motto. If anything happened, he reassured himself, he would be able to leave in a heartbeat.

Their car was a BMW – obviously. It was a white midsize SUV with red, hairy blankets over the seats. “Because of animals,” Mrs. Richter explained as they got in, “we are animal doctors”. Cash sat on Matt’s lap, otherwise they didn’t fit. “About 2 hour drive,” Amelie’s dad said as he pulled out of the parking spot. During the next hours, her parents proved to be willing to give him a chance. They asked him about his profession and seemed genuinely interested.

Occasionally, they pointed out a few important highway exits, such as one of the BMW factories or the horse ranch a famous soccer player from FC Bayern Munich had bought for his wife.
Matt was glad they spoke a decent English.

He didn’t think it was right that American schools did not require their students to learn any other language. And those additional courses were not enough. He knew his Spanish had never been as good as the Richters’ English was.

After a while, they arrived at a large country style villa. If Matt ever thought his house was big – well, Amelie’s parents’ house was about triple the size. Even if Amelie hadn’t told him that it used to be a hammer mill, he would have noticed immediately. There was still a piece of the mill in a creek on the right side of the house. Matt inhaled at the thought of how beautiful and peaceful it was.

Next to the house with the white walls and the dark wooden features with the cinder roof, there was a wooden shed. From as far away as Matt stood, he could already hear and smell the animals Amelie told him about. Two geese were in front of it, waddling around and occasionally picking up some food from the floor.

Carefully, he lifted his children out of the car. Loud excited barking signaled the arrival of Amelie’s beloved dog Shiba even before Matt saw him. It ran around the corner of the house and practically jumped onto her, wiggling his tail like crazy. “Dog! DOOOGGY!” River squealed while Cash seemed to be rather intimidated. Matt got down into a squatting position before letting the pet sniff his and River’s hands.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” Amelie’s mom said. It’s half bad, they seem to be very caring. And I don’t think they hate me. I still have to make a good impression, but… it’s alright, Matt thought with a content smile as he ran his fingers through Shiba’s soft fur.

Suddenly, the half white half glass with ornaments front door opened and revealed an old woman, probably Amelie’s grandma. She had dark brown short curls and wore glasses with a thin frame, as well as an old blue apron. She waved at Matt and Cash immediately waved back.

“Gwanny?” Matt chuckled as he took his hand and walked up the light gray granite steps up to the woman. “Hello,” she said, her accent being by far the thickest. She then pointed to herself. “Oma! Mama from Amelie Mama!” She obviously didn’t know a lot of English.

Matt politely shook her hand, noticing her disfavoring look at his Rev tattoo on his hand. Good thing I’m wearing long sleeves today… “I’m Matthew,” he said with a dimpled smile, then pointed to his little ones. “River and Cash.” Even though she probably wouldn’t understand, he added a “nice to meet you.”

In the meantime, Amelie’s parents were taking the suitcases into some rear entrance at the side of the house. Matt stood in front of the doorway Oma came out of, not sure what to do. But a second later, Oma motioned for him and the kids to come with her and led him through some kind of entrance and wardrobe room into a large old but well-kept kitchen.

“Do schau her, an Kuacha hab I gmacht,” she said. Matt didn’t understand a thing, but since she was pointing to a delicious smelling apple pie, he figured she was talking about it. “Very good,” Matt replied. “Good,” she repeated, “good Kuacha!”

She pointed to the kitchen bench and Matt sat down, as well as his kids. “An Kaffee?” Oma asked. Sounds like coffee… From Matt’s irritated look she knew she had to be more precise, so she showed him a porcelain coffee cup and made a drinking motion with it. “Obst an Kaffee mechst? Kaffee!” Matt nodded, “of course, please.”

Then she pointed to the kids. “Kaba?” Okay we got some serious information issues… “What’s that?” he asked. Luckily, in that second, Amelie entered the kitchen. “Instant cocoa! Say yes, I loved it as a kid. Still do actually.” Then Matt nodded at Oma as she brought him the cup of coffee.

Minutes later, they were all sitting around Oma’s kitchen table and munching on the cake. Amelie’s parents eyed Matt closely, but he was sure it was going well, much better than he’d expected it to go. “Amelie,” he whispered to her, “how do I tell Oma I want another piece?” She grinned broadly. “She’ll be so happy about that. Say ‘no oans’.”

Matt waited until he was sure Oma was looking in his direction, then pointed towards the cake. “No oans,” he let out, pleased with how German it sounded, although it probably didn’t sound German at all. And since he’d spent some time on the plane with a German learning app, he remembered to add “bitte”.

“Do schau her,” Oma said, “erm schmeckt mei Kuacha.” Matt chuckled, then repeated what she said earlier. „Good kuacha“.

„So, Matthew,“ Amelie’s dad said in his good English, “how did you imagine all this… to go? With you and Amelie?” Matt inhaled, not having expected this topic to be picked up so soon.

“Well, for starters,” he said, mainly to buy himself time to actually think about how to phrase all this, “I think Amelie needs to be asked. But… I see a future in all this. Since you all know about my profession, I don’t think I, uh… have to mention that I do have the time and money to come visit her frequently, as well as my sons. I… I would offer to pay for university somewhere in the States, too, if that’s what she wants,” he turned to face Amelie, “if that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “I have been looking at all possibilities and as it is, I would want to study international business relations and management. There is a private university in Munich that offers it, and some in California. I… I don’t know. I wish… I don’t want to lose you, Matt.”

Having heard her say that, Matt’s heart felt like it was exploding with joy. But in the background, he noticed her parents’ sad looks, too. Matt knew they had been dreading this.

“If that is what you want, Amelie, you can come study in California” he said, his voice cracking. Her dad threw Matt a stern look. “Or you could start it in Munich and then if we’re still going strong in a year, you can change. Hell, I can visit halfway through your semester,” Matt added, remembering Brian’s suggestion from earlier. They were interrupted by River pointing towards the cake. “No oannnns!” he shrieked.

They all laughed. Matt smiled proudly at his son, realizing how smart the little one was. He didn’t even know he was paying attention when he asked Amelie for the German expression.

“You know, actually,” Amelie said as she cut River another small piece of cake, “no oans is Bavarian, that’s the dialect we’re speaking here. Well, a dialect probably isn’t as heavy. With all the history in Europe, Bavarian is actually a language of its own. So if you say ‘no oans’ in Berlin, they won’t understand you even though it’s German. They’d say ‘noch eins’.”

There they are, Matt thought, those stereotypical harsh German ‘ch’ sounds that he missed when overhearing Amelie and her parents. “But back to the topic, Amelie,” he urged, throwing her parents a look.

“I mean, you can come visit during your entire breaks, too. So a semester is three months, and I can come after one and a half. Then you have another month and a half until you can come visit me. You can still change universities after a year or two,” he explained, even if he would have preferred if she came with him right now.

Amelie remained quiet, seemingly thinking.

Notes

UPDATE:)

I am super happy you liked my last update!!! And also I have laryngitis. Fuuuu.