Bodenstein parked across the street, turned off the engine, and remained sitting behind the wheel. From here he could watch Cosima through the brightly lit kitchen window busily moving about. He’d had another discussion with Dr. Engel because of Behnke. News of the incident had spread through the whole station like wildfire. Nicola Engel had approved the suspension of Behnke, but now Bodenstein had a serious problem on his hands. Not only Behnke, but Hasse was out too.
On the drive home Oliver had thought over how he should act toward Cosima. Silently pack his things and leave? No, he had to hear the truth from her lips. He felt no anger, only the utterly wretched feeling of boundless disappointment. After hesitating for several minutes, he got out and slowly crossed the rain-wet street. The house that he and Cosima had built together, in which he had lived for twenty happy years, in which he knew every nook and cranny, suddenly appeared foreign to him. Every evening he had been glad to come home. He had looked forward to seeing Cosima and the kids, to playing with the dog and doing the gardening in the summer, but now he dreaded opening the front door. How long had Cosima lain next to him in bed and longed secretly for another man? Someone else who would caress her and kiss her and make love to her? If only he hadn’t seen Cosima together with that guy today. But he had, and now everything inside him was screaming, Why? Since when? How? Where?
He never would have believed that he would be in such a situation. His marriage was good, until … yes, until Sophia had come into the world. After that, Cosima changed. She had always been restless, but her expeditions in foreign lands had satisfied her longing for freedom and adventure so that she could tolerate daily life for the remaining months of the year. He had known that and accepted the traveling she did without complaint, although he’d always hated the long separations. After Sophia was born, hardly two years ago, Cosima had stayed at home. She had never let him sense that she was unhappy. But looking back he recognized the changes. Previously they had never argued, but now they often did. The fights were always over trivial things. They were quick to reproach each other and criticize individual quirks. Oliver stood with his key in his hand at the front door when suddenly and unexpectedly fury flared up inside him. For weeks she had concealed her pregnancy with Sophia from him. She had decided all by herself to have the child and present him with the fait accompli. In this instance she had to realize that having a baby with their gypsy lifestyle was out of the question, at least for a while.
He opened the door. The dog jumped out of his basket and greeted him effusively. When Cosima appeared in the kitchen doorway, Oliver’s heart sank.
“Hello.” She smiled. “You’re kind of late today. Did you already eat?”
There she stood, in the same celadon green cashmere sweater that she’d been wearing at the Ebony Club at lunch, and looking the same as usual.
“No,” he replied. “I’m not hungry.”
“Just in case, I have meatballs and a noodle salad in the fridge.”
She turned away, heading back to the kitchen.
“You weren’t in Mainz today,” he said. Cosima stopped and turned around. He didn’t want her to lie to him, so he kept talking before she could say anything. “I saw you at the Ebony Club at lunch. With Alexander Gavrilow. Please don’t try to deny it.”
She crossed her arms and looked at him. Silence. The dog felt the sudden tension and crept soundlessly back to his basket.
“In recent weeks you’ve almost never been in Mainz,” Oliver went on. “A few days ago I came out of the forensics lab and you happened to be driving right in front of me. I called you on your cell and saw you pick up the phone. And then you claimed you were in Mainz.”
He stopped talking. He still hoped in a corner of his heart that she would laugh and give him a completely innocent explanation. But she didn’t laugh or deny it. She just stood there with her arms crossed. Without a sign of guilty conscience.
“Please be honest with me, Cosima.” His voice sounded pathetic in his ears. “Are you … are you having … an affair with Gavrilow?”
“Yes,” she replied calmly.
His world collapsed, but Oliver managed to remain just as calm as Cosima.
“Why?” he asked, torturing himself.
“Oh, Oliver. What do you want me to say?”
“Preferably the truth.”
“I met him this summer by chance at an opening in Wiesbaden. He has an office in Frankfurt, was planning a new project, and was looking for sponsors. We talked on the phone a few times. He had an idea that I could do a film about his expedition. I knew you wouldn’t like it, so first I wanted to hear what sort of ideas he had in mind. That’s why I didn’t tell you that I met with him. And somehow it just … happened. I thought it was only a fling, but then…” She broke off, shaking her head.
Unbelievable. How could she meet another man and start an affair without him suspecting a thing? Was he too stupid, too trusting, or too self-involved? The lyrics of a song came to mind, a song that Rosalie in her worst phase of puberty had blasted constantly all over the house. What does he have that I don’t have? Tell me the truth, what it is. Now it’s much too late, but what have you missed? Such a dumb song—and now all of a sudden it contained so much truth. Oliver left Cosima standing there and went upstairs to the bedroom. In another minute he would have exploded, screamed in her face what he thought of adventurers like Gavrilow who started affairs with married mothers of small children. He had probably conducted his dalliances all over the world, that bastard! Oliver opened all of the clothes cabinets, yanked his suitcase down from one of the top shelves, and stuffed it with underwear, shirts, and ties, throwing in two suits on top. Then he went into the bathroom and packed his personal things in a toiletry bag. Ten minutes later he dragged the suitcase downstairs. Cosima was still standing in the same spot.
“Where are you going?” she asked softly.
“Away,” he said without looking at her. Then he opened the front door and stepped out into the night.