DanAfter finishing a presentation, we went to grab a quick bite at the cafeteria, where there was a TV. They were showing some old drama when suddenly it was interrupted by a newsflash.
‘This is an emergency news update on Flight 175, which left Venprek last night at eleven for Singapore. The plane, which lost contact at 8 this morning, has been confirmed to have crashed near Kolkatta. The…’
“Oh my god,” I cried out.
“What’s wrong, Dan?”
I did not answer her. I pressed furiously on my mobile.
“Mum, have you seen the news?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She did not answer.
“Are you at the gallery?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come over immediately.”
“What about your work?”
I hung up.
“What’s wrong, Dan?”
“I need to go. My father’s on that plane.”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. Your family needs you.”
He had understood immediately, and I was grateful for that. But for now, I knew I needed to get to my mother as soon as possible.
As I sped along the road, I felt anger well up in me. Anger that my mother had probably knew when the plane was first reported to be in trouble, but hadn’t informed me.
However, when I was sufficiently calmed down, I realized that she did what she did because that was her. She didn’t want to disrupt our routine. She didn’t want to burden us with the bad news. She probably thought, ‘there’s nothing we can do about it anyway, so why don’t we wait and see how the situation develop?’
i cried.
Claire
“I am sorry, may I interrupt?” Mr Teuneres stood at the door. My teacher, Mrs Montiare nodded. He exchanged a few hurried words with her. We watched in suspense as her face suddenly turned pale.
“Clarissa Sauvigne. Clarissa,” she called, shaken.
That was me. Clarissa was me. “Here.”
“Would you please pack your stuff and leave with Mr Teuneres?”
I was surprised. My classmates would probably have created a stir; well who wouldn’t envy someone who could leave class early? But the serious expression of both teachers shut them up.
The looks on their faces somehow gave me a sense of urgency, and moments later, I was at the front of the class. Mrs Montaire squeezed my shoulders and whispered, “May God be with you, child.”
Only outside the classroom, as we headed towards the car park did I learn of what had happened.
“Your mother and sister are coming over to fetch you. Your father’s plane has crashed. They are sending the families over to India. I am sorry, Clarissa.”
I did not speak a single word until my sister’s car pulled into the car park.
Friedrich
My phone rang, jolting me from my sleep. Groggily, I reached for my phone. It was my sister.
“Hey Dan…what’s up?”
“Listen, Gio. Father’s plane crashed. They are flying us over to Kolkatta. Are you able to make your way there yourself?”
I finally mustered, “I-will-see-you-there.”
We hung up. I strode over to the other room. “Lukas. Hey Lukas.”
Lukas opened his eyes, grabbed his watch. “It’s only eleven, Friedrich.”
“Listen, I need to go. I am going to India.”
“What?!” he sat up.
“I am going India.”
“Are you serious? What about classes?”
“I will drop by on my way. To explain.”
“Everything all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Dan
“Are you sure it’s all right to tell Gio?” my mother asked.
“Well, I have done it.”
“He need not need to come. We could have settled it ourselves.”
“And what? He goes on as per normal in Berlin? He will know sooner or later. And I know he wants to know.”
“Perhaps it’s all unnecessary.”
I stole a glance at her in the seat beside me. Sometimes, I really could not understand my mother.
Friedrich
“I need a flight to Kolkatta.”
“Let me check for you, sir.”
I looked at her as she typed away, as if this could somehow produce a vacancy on the list she was scrolling through.
“There’s one at 2300, another-“
“Any earlier ones?”
“I am sorry sir, that’s the earliest one with vacancies.”
“Any cancellations?”
“No, sir.”
“If there is, could I take it?”
“It’s possible.”
“Can you let me know then?”
“Of course. We will put you on the waiting list. What about the Lufthansa flight at 2300? Do you want to reserve it?”
“Yes, yes, I will take it.”
When the transaction was over, I looked at my watch. 7 hours. I had 7 hours to wait.
It was like eternity.
DanThe officials were patient and nice. But I supposed any other human would behave like this in such situations. After the necessary procedures, we were soon on the plane, bound for Kolkatta.
My mother sat on my left, while Claire sat on my right. Claire hadn’t really spoken since we picked her up at her school. My heart cringed to see her so quiet; she had always been lively, always the center of attention.
My mother closed her eyes and leaned back. She seemed to have taken everything calmly.
My mother’s full name is Mercè Serra Soler. She describes herself as a Catalan through and through. Serra was my maternal grandfather’s surname, Soler my maternal grandmother’s surname. Her name itself was very Catalan. She was the youngest of six children, and the only daughter.
When she was eighteen, she came to Venprek alone to study art at the Universidad. Prior to that, she had lived all her life in Barcelona. Of course, Spain at that time was just emerging from the repressive regime of Franco. It was only two years later, in 1979 that the Catalan nationality was recognized again. By then, my parents were already madly in love.
My father used to say that without my mother, he would not be where he was today. My mother had stood by him as he first ventured into the business world. They were poor then, as young newly-weds usually were. Life was difficult, but my mother had faced it with Catalan poise and determination. Actually, she was not really involved in the business. She knew nothing about business; instead she worked at the Venpreker Gallerie, amidst all the art that she loved. She provided support and encouragement. She would occasionally accompany my father on trips and meetings, during which she would impress his associates to such an extent that they call her ‘le clevaire Dame’, the clever lady. But art remains her passion. That is why, even today, my mother still works at the gallery.
As far as I remember, there are only two things that my mother insists upon. The first is her work at the gallery. The second is that we would always have a meal together as a family before seeing my father off on yet another of his frequent trips together, and then another meal on his return. It is her way of ensuring the family spends time together; after all, my father was often away. Her Catalan upbringing had placed an emphasis on family life, which she in turn now brings into her own family.
My mother loves Barcelona and Catalonia. I always wondered, why did she put everything down to come to Venprek, and even settled down here in the end? She told me the answer one day. She loves my father and Venprek too, as much as she loves Barcelona and her family. Venprek is the symbol of her love for my father, while Barcelona has the same role for her parents and brothers. Yet, by choosing Venprek, she hasn’t forsaken her family back in Spain. Instead, she has tried to reconcile these two loves in Venprek. She speaks on the phone with my grandmother twice a week, for long hours each time. She teaches us Catalan. She cooks Catalan dishes. She buys Catalan paintings. There are reminders of Catalonia everywhere in our house.
“Love is never exclusive, Danielle,” she told me then.
DanBoth my mother and sister had fallen asleep. I just could not sleep, though it was a long flight. I thought about my brother, wondering where he was now.
Speaking of my brother, he was most similar to my mother. I remembered his response earlier on, that choked response. I have never heard him talk in that manner before. But then again, how could I fault him for that? How would you reply if your sister suddenly calls you to tell you that your father has met with a mishap?
But Gio is, to me, the model son. Perhaps I am a little jealous of him; that I couldn’t be like him. He is cool-headed, rational, analytical and reliable. In fact, we sort of swapped. When I was 12 and he was 8, I was the cool-headed one whom my mother could always rely on to look after Gio and Claire, while Gio was constantly rebelling. After that, we sort of swapped.
He was constantly making a nuisance out of himself. I guess all boys do that. His name is not really Gio. His full name is Friedrich Giovanni Sauvigne. But he hated ‘Friedrich’ when he was still a kid. He kept telling my father ‘Friedrich’ was a terrible name. My father would laugh and tell him, “You are named after a great man, my son. Friedrich the Great.”
He would shake his head and insist we call him ‘Gio’, since my father would have nothing of changing his name. Then suddenly, he transformed into someone else altogether. At about the same time as I turned rebellious.
After my studies in London, my father wanted very much for me to work at his firm. But I refused. I had no intention of taking over the business either. We had a big fight over it. It was perhaps two, three years ago. Looking back, I was not surprised by my decision. And I still think he wasn’t really either. I am after all my father and mother’s daughter. Half Venpreker, half Catalan. You don’t get a more independent and rebellious streak than that.
Even though he accepted the decision in the end, I knew he was disappointed. But perhaps he had consoled himself by telling himself that there was still Gio. However, we all found out that even someone like Gio could say ‘No’. One day, he told my father himself that he had applied to study philosophy in Berlin. My father just nodded his head and said, “If that’s what you want.”
That was the first time he had disagreed with my parents since he changed. But other than that, he is still pretty much the dependable Gio.
FriedrichI was finally on my way to Kolkatta.
I thought about my father, whom I had just spoken to on the phone the previous night, before he flew off. Even though I largely spend my time in Berlin the last two years, my mother always makes it a point to tell me of my father’s schedule. She did that too when Dan was in London. I couldn’t really believe that this was happening. I couldn’t really accept that the conversation the night before was the last time I would ever hear his voice again.
I wished I wasn’t in Berlin then, but in Venprek. Of course if God could have granted me any wish now, I wouldn’t wish for that; I would have wished that this was just a nightmare, that’s all. But then again, there wasn’t much point in thinking ‘what if’. Would it really have made a difference if I were at the VIF to see him off? I wouldn’t know, really. That was why I told myself to stop pursuing this thought; it didn’t matter anymore.
Moreover, the reason I was in Berlin was partly due to him. As I looked out of the small window, which he undoubtedly must have done each time he flew, I knew for sure that he would have rather I was away in Berlin.
My father traveled a lot. And he knew many languages. Venpreken, Spanish, Catalan, English, German, French at least. Each language is, in his words, ‘a window into an exciting world’. He encouraged us to ‘go out and see the world’.
That was why my sister went to London, and me to Berlin, never mind that what I study is very different from what he had wished.
In fact, I think it is somewhat ironic that I would find myself in Berlin. I have accepted that Friedrich is my name, and what people who don’t know me well will address me as, if they don’t call me ‘Mr Sauvigne’. But when I was a boy, I hated the name very much. I thought it sounded clumsy. But my father told me it was the name of a great Prussian ruler. Friedrich der Grosse. Frederick the Great. Intrigued, I went to research on him. I gradually accepted this honour my father had given me; but by then, everyone was used to calling me ‘Gio’ and so the name stuck.
I decided to study philosophy in Berlin. I took German back in high school, and on a school trip, actually visited Berlin, which left a deep impression on me. I have always been interested in philosophy, so I thought it would be the best choice. I could have stayed in Venprek, but influenced by my father, I decided to ‘go out and see the world’.
I think my father was greatly disappointed by my decision, though he never voiced it, which was rather surprising. I think it was the first time in a long while I did not abide by his wish, which probably hurt him even more. But the disappointment could also be traced to my two sisters, Dan, who rejected the notion of working for him, and Claire, who announced very seriously that she was not interested in business.
But I did try out. I helped out at his firm some time back. I couldn’t really convince myself that this was what I wanted to do. Moreover, the lure of philosophy was too great for me to counter. So, I made my decision.
My parents have always respected my sisters and me. They would advise us, but ultimately, they would support our decisions. We rarely quarreled. Perhaps that was partly due to the fact that my father wasn’t around much. But in any case, the only person who ever really quarreled with my father in recent years was Dan. Well, she had inherited his hot-headedness. My mother, she never once raised her voice.
