M: From Blaumeiser?
K: His handwriting wasn’t proficient, blue ballpoint-pen ink on thin, lined paper. I didn’t read the note, but Svensson’s fingers on my back trembled as he read. The air smelled of candle wax and standing lake water, I remember that perfectly, deck chairs and cigarettes. That we didn’t put on or even touch the party hats on the kitchen table, one blue, the other pink. An absolute silence despite the occasional cars and birds. Then: Tuuli’s abrupt and brief scream, but that’s not the right word, she howled. A horrible sound! Svensson and I ran after the scream and Lua’s barking, following the confetti trail, all over the garden furniture streamers and candles and lamps along the path. Even though the sun was shining, just like right now, Daniel, just like today.
Milk?
At this moment Samy is standing in the room and rubbing his eyes. Kiki and I didn’t hear his footsteps. She interrupts her story, gets up and bends down to the boy. Milk? she asks, and Samy nods. Kiki puts a glass on the table, she gets crayons and paper, she sits the boy on my knee and says
Lua is dead,
but he wasn’t sad and fell asleep peacefully, because everyone was with him. The boy takes a sip of his milk. Did he want to make the dog a farewell gift? She heard he could already draw, says Kiki, and Samy nods absently (so early in the morning he can’t understand death). Kiki gets up.
Interview (main informant Kiki Kaufman)
KIKI: Felix Blaumeiser was lying next to Macumba on his belly in the shallow water, his left leg twisted, his shoelaces caught in the the oarlock, navy blue Converse like two pigeons. On the floor of the boat bottles were banging together, Samy was screaming, little children always cry with their mothers. Tuuli and Svensson were kneeling on the slippery concrete of the boat ramp, she was holding Felix’s head, and he was feeling around frantically on Felix with his fingers, the learned procedures couldn’t bring Felix back. Svensson tried again and again to detach his shoelaces from the boat. Pale streamers were wrapped around Felix’s neck, he was wearing a sodden party hat with an elastic band and his white polo shirt had turned pink and yellow and blue, the bottles were banging and rattling and clinking, two bottles of Veuve Clicquot and one wine bottle, all empty. Above Felix’s right eye was a bump, the water had already washed off or diluted the blood. The bluish shards of a bottle of Bombay Sapphire were shimmering in the water.
MANDELKERN: An accident?
K: Svensson called the police and the ambulance, yes, he used the words “accident” and “Unfall” when he did so. The swan hissed, Lua barked. The sirens along the shore got closer and closer, Samy was hungry and cried, a bizzare peace hung over everything, as if something had occurred that everyone had long been expecting. The emergency doctor put his finger on Felix Blaumeiser’s neck and declared him dead, but it was Tuuli who closed his eyes. I was standing next to them with Samy, but I didn’t get what was going on, we were paralyzed. The forensic specialists in Como handled the case, and the police investigations didn’t last long either. Felix’s blood alcohol content was high, but not deadly. His shoelaces had gotten caught, he must have fallen and hit his head on the concrete, but his skull hadn’t been fractured. Felix didn’t die of an injury. He simply lay unconscious in the water and drowned. An accident, yes.
M: And then?
K: The next afternoon the police briefly questioned us again, this time with three interpreters from Lugano. Tuuli, Svensson, and I gave statements about our versions of the day in our native languages, we didn’t exactly understand one another in the process. When a policeman inquired what it was that was actually supposed to be celebrated here, Tuuli still didn’t know the answer to this question, but Svensson mentioned the surprise: engagement. Tuuli suddenly realized that she’d been eating cotton candy with Svensson instead of getting a marriage proposal from Felix. The paralysis turned into a brief and fierce quarrel, Tuuli stood on the terrace and screamed. Svensson had never been able to be as spontaneous and carefree as Felix, and now, of all times, he’d wanted to ride the roller coaster, a fatal roller coaster. He’d wanted to talk about their love! He’d kissed her! He’d wanted to prevent this marriage! Because of him they’d kept Felix waiting, he’d indirectly killed him! And so on. Svensson shouted back that she’d turned off both their phones, that she’d had to explain to him on the way to Felix’s, of all times, that they were three and not alone. Still! Felix and Kiki were waiting, he’d said. Then he hadn’t kissed her, but she him. In confusion he’d bought beer and cotton candy, and when he could no longer drive, she’d refused. Even though they’d run out of words and there was nothing more to explain besides the end of the past and the beginning of the future. But that was impossible after Felix’s death, because without him they could neither finish nor start anew. Tuuli screamed and howled, she called Felix and Svensson accomplices, she blamed both of them for her sorrow. She would have said yes, I assume. Then she lay down in Felix’s room and slept for two days. It was a tragic accident, the two of them have been grappling with the consquences to this day. I have no idea who’s right, not the slightest idea, Daniel. Svensson took care of Samy during those days, he sat down next to the baby carriage on the dock and filled up page after page of a whole notepad. Then he crumpled every single page and threw them into the lake. For two days I waited for the arrival of Felix’s parents and the release of the corpse. I tried to sort all that out, eventually gave up and cleaned up the house. I just believe him. The parents decided very pragmatically on cremation. Not without discussions, Svensson was for a burial. At the cremation an Italian priest spoke Italian and Latin, I understood only snatches. We were allowed to see the corpse, Tuuli surpassed Svensson in staring, he pressed his forehead to Felix’s forehead and remained like that for a few moments, it felt like forever. Felix was wearing a white shirt, the coffin was some sort of expensive tropical wood. The ashes were then scattered one or two days later at the deepest point in the lake, illegally, of course. No one will notice, said Felix’s father, the fine is affordable, the lake will keep it a secret. Tuuli left with Samy directly after the ceremony, she seemed sobered and was anxious to put affairs in order in Germany. Svensson and I stayed awhile longer. He mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedges, I took pictures, he refurbished the boat and repaired the motor, we climbed the Monte dei Pizzoni with Lua. Svensson wanted to work with his hands rather than with his head. Blaumeiser’s parents then offered us the unused house here. Nobody ever used it but Felix, you know. Our last night on the lake, two weeks after Felix’s death, Svensson translated the note for me, I know it by heart: “My dearest bride, dear best man,” he said, “I am celebrating our engagement today and since you are late, idiots, I will have to drink everything by myself. In case you should arrive, come down to the water, chin-chin & much love, Felix.”