The Glassblower(57)
She began to spread soft cheese with chives onto a thick slice of black bread. After a week of dainty dishes, she always longed for Ruth’s simple home fare on Fridays. She took a hearty bite of bread, savoring the cool, fresh taste of the white cheese on her tongue. After a couple more bites, she realized that the sound of her chewing was the only sound in the room. When she looked up, her eyes met Ruth’s.
“You’ve certainly changed, Johanna Steinmann!” her sister said icily. “And you don’t need to go kicking me under the table,” she snapped at Marie, then turned back to Johanna.
“For the first time in ages we’ve got a reason to celebrate, and what do you do? Turn your nose up at it.”
“But it’s just a perfectly ordinary village dance!” Johanna said, feeling hurt. “None of us would have even thought of going while Father was alive. Don’t you remember? It was quite enough for us to see all the drunken souls lying in the streets still sleeping it off the next morning while we walked to church for the May service. We used to have a good laugh at them!” Her smile faded as she saw Ruth’s stony expression. Johanna sighed.
“If it wasn’t such an important customer coming to visit . . .” She stopped when she noticed tears in Ruth’s eyes. “Goodness gracious, what’s the matter?”
Instead of answering, Ruth shook her head stubbornly.
“She and Thomas are going to announce their engagement at the dance,” Marie told Johanna.
Blast it, so things were getting serious between those two. She put her hand on Ruth’s arm.
“Then why didn’t you say so? There was no way I could have known. I . . .” Before she could continue, Ruth shook off her hand.
“I don’t even want you there. It’s just a perfectly ordinary village dance after all. And Strobel’s clients are so much more important, aren’t they?” Now she was yelling at Johanna.
“Besides, just look at yourself!” She pointed at Johanna’s head. “Your hairdo. Your dress. Your shoes. All new! We can’t keep up, of course, oh no. You must have much better friends in Sonneberg, all running around dressed to the nines. What do you care whether or not I get engaged?” Her hand trembled as she poured herself a cup of chamomile tea.
The room was filled with the gentle calming scent of chamomile, but their argument was bitter. For a moment Johanna thought of the smell of incense in Strobel’s shop. Tears pricked at her eyelids. It was all going wrong. They should be chatting about the engagement and what it would mean for them, but instead they were at one another’s throats for no reason at all.
“How can you say such silly things? You know perfectly well that the two of you mean more to me than anyone in the world. And that I’ll always want to know what’s going on in your lives. And as for making new friends—do you really think I’m in Sonneberg to have fun? I have to work. Or do you think that Strobel pays me all that money for nothing?”
Ruth turned away.
Oh, her sister didn’t want to hear about that, Johanna thought bitterly. No more than she wanted to acknowledge all the presents, though she was always happy enough to have them.
“You really could have said earlier that Thomas was going to make you his betrothed at the dance. It’s an important step, isn’t it? You can’t have just decided it in passing. If you had given me a bit more time to—”
“Stop it, both of you. It’s like listening to chickens henpecking each other in the farmyard!” Marie broke in. “Why don’t you just say that you’ll come?” she said, turning to Johanna. “It’s sure to be a wonderful evening for all of us!” Her pleading gaze spoke volumes.
Johanna forced a smile. “Of course I’ll come! I wouldn’t miss Ruth’s engagement for anything in the world! I’ll think of something to tell Strobel.” Helpless, she clapped her hands. “It’s just . . . why does it have to be that weekend of all weekends?”
“Because you can’t have a May dance except the first weekend in May,” Ruth answered dryly.
They had to laugh at that. And then, luckily, the rest of the evening passed without further squabbles.
That night Johanna lay awake for a long time, listening to her two sisters breathing. Ruth’s recriminations echoed in her mind. Had she really changed? She didn’t think so. Deep down she was still the same old Johanna she had always been. The others simply didn’t want to believe it.
Johanna rolled over onto her side and plumped up the pillow beneath her cheek. Why did nobody ask her how she really felt? How it felt to spend her nights sleeping in a strange room in a strange house? All on her own with no one to talk to. Neither Ruth nor Peter seemed interested in hearing that if she had changed at all, it was only because Strobel had mocked her for looking like a country bumpkin. And they never acknowledged that she came home faithfully every weekend even though she would have liked to stay in Sonneberg now and again. Instead they made a great fuss about how she was away all week. They only saw what they wanted to see, and she was gradually getting fed up with the way they took offense at every little thing.