"This isn't exactly weather for a barbecue."
"We'll make the best of it, don't worry." Mickey tapped the address into the car's navigation system and looked at her. "Nervous?"
"What would give you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know. The look of terror in your eyes, your white knuckles on the door handle and the sweat on your upper lip."
"Sometimes I hate that you're a police detective. You notice way too much."
He chuckled. "It comes with the territory." He squeezed her thigh. "They're going to love you, Kate. Trust me."
She couldn't reply even if she wanted to; the SATNAV began barking unintelligible instructions about the route at them. Kate had been dreading this get-together ever since Mickey told her about it the previous month. It wasn't that she didn't like barbecues. She loved them, and always encouraged her parents to have as many as possible when she visited; it was that this barbecue was in a different country and the people spoke a different language."We'll make the best of it, don't worry." Mickey tapped the address into the car's navigation system and looked at her. "Nervous?"
"What would give you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know. The look of terror in your eyes, your white knuckles on the door handle and the sweat on your upper lip."
"Sometimes I hate that you're a police detective. You notice way too much."
He chuckled. "It comes with the territory." He squeezed her thigh. "They're going to love you, Kate. Trust me."
She took a deep breath and shifted in the seat. Mickey tapped his fingers to the beat of a song only he could hear. He was lost in the moment. That had been one of the first things she noticed about him when they met in Australia. She'd been on a volunteering gap-year and found a programme that placed her at an orange farm during the harvest. On her second day, Michiel had arrived and it was her job to show him around - not that she knew a whole lot more at that point than he did. Their team of pickers was rather international, with folks from Ireland, Spain, South Africa, France, Canada, Germany, Austria and even Chile. Thus, it made sense to use English to communicate because everyone could speak it to some degree. On his third day there, the Aussies got tired of trying to pronounce Michiel's name and he was called Mickey forever after.
Part of Kate's job involved organising the picking schedules and arranging the roster for cooking and cleaning in their commune. It had been tricky to get a good balance in the beginning, but she found she was quite good at managing the logistics. After one of the Spanish girls complained that she couldn't work with Mickey's personality, Kate found herself paired with him rather than the chef from Toronto. At first she tried to keep her distance, but Mickey was so easy to be around. He rarely got upset, which gave the impression that he was insouciant. And yet, nothing seemed to escape his notice. Kate grinned at the memory of the day when she'd heard her dog died and she was feeling broken-hearted and homesick. Mickey had shown up for their dinner preparation with a bouquet of tissue flowers (he'd folded them all himself, origami-style), bound around a stem of her favourite chocolates. Apparently he'd bribed the farmer's son to find it in the city and buy it for him. It didn't take away the hurt of losing Bentley, but it was wonderful to have a taste of home.
After they'd finished drying the supper dishes that night, Mickey had talked to her for hours about his family, where he grew up and why he had travelled across the world to get away from everything that was familiar. As she listened to him speak, trying to find the words that conveyed what was in his heart and on his mind in English, and often coming up empty-handed, she decided to start learning German. She wanted to understand him. Not only his words, but also the language of his heart.
"We're getting close now," said Mickey. "Are you feeling a bit better?"
"Honestly, no. But I will try to keep up."
"Ask people to speak slowly if it's too fast." He glanced at her before returning his eyes to the road. "Remember when I got to Australia? There was that one guy - Nigel, or something? He kept making fun of my accent and deliberately used slang that he knew I wouldn't understand."
"That guy was a jerk. I was glad when he left for Dog's Breath Creek or wherever it was that he came from."
Mickey laughed. "It was quite funny, actually. But I didn't let him stop me from speaking English - even if it was bad."
Kate covered her face with her hands. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but this is different."
"Why?"
"Because everyone at that barbecue can already speak English to some extent. My German is pathetic at best and when I'm not trying to figure out what the gender of the word is, I'm trying to guess whether the sentence is Nominative or Accusative - and that's before a single word comes out of my mouth. It's stressful."
"You don't need to speak perfectly, Kate. Just try. I know everyone we meet always appreciates it when you do. Even if you muddle your pronouns or botch your pronunciation." He winced at the punch that landed on his arm. "Ok, I deserved that. But, seriously, you're better than you think. And the only way to keep getting better is to keep talking."
"I know, I know."
"Did I tell you? There was a guy at work who thought I was English and we spoke English the whole time until he overheard me speaking German to someone else and he was so suprised because he said I speak English without a German accent."
"Why?"
"Because everyone at that barbecue can already speak English to some extent. My German is pathetic at best and when I'm not trying to figure out what the gender of the word is, I'm trying to guess whether the sentence is Nominative or Accusative - and that's before a single word comes out of my mouth. It's stressful."
"You don't need to speak perfectly, Kate. Just try. I know everyone we meet always appreciates it when you do. Even if you muddle your pronouns or botch your pronunciation." He winced at the punch that landed on his arm. "Ok, I deserved that. But, seriously, you're better than you think. And the only way to keep getting better is to keep talking."
"I know, I know."
"Did I tell you? There was a guy at work who thought I was English and we spoke English the whole time until he overheard me speaking German to someone else and he was so suprised because he said I speak English without a German accent."
Kate ruffled his hair. "I take full credit for that."
Without taking his eyes off the road, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "You achieved the impossible with me. This barbecue will be a walk in the garden."
Without taking his eyes off the road, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. "You achieved the impossible with me. This barbecue will be a walk in the garden."
She giggled. "A walk in the park. But you're right. It'll be all right." She hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt.
"Say it a few more times until you really believe it." Mickey winked at her. "And I'll still love you, even when you mix up your articles." He turned the car into a single-lane road and slowed down. A man was walking with his dog ahead of them, and waved as they passed. As they rounded a corner, Mrs SATNAV became rather insistent.
"I'm guessing she thinks we've arrived?"
"Yeah, but do you see it?"
"Keep going. It's probably behind those trees."
A farm house crept into view and number 19 shone from a mirror mosaic on the verandah. Kate could see a handful of people seated around the table. "Showtime."
Mickey brought the car to a stop and turned to look at her. "Ende gut, alles gut." He kissed her lightly on the cheek before getting out to greet their host.
All's well that ends well. Kate unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car.
It took a few moments for her brain to adjust to the change in language, but she found she was able to say simple sentences with relative ease. Mickey got caught up with the barbecue process, so she found herself sitting at the table with the other wives and girlfriends. The host's wife - Susanne, if memory served her - was generous in the conversation and took care to make eye contact and speak slowly and clearly for Kate's benefit. After twenty minutes, she began to relax and even laughed along at the jokes. Wine flowed and appetisers were passed around; it occurred to Kate that food, drink and laughter were a few of the universal languages she knew.
Mickey made a point to check in on Kate while he helped the other men manage the meat and monitor the flames. She seemed to be enjoying herself and he knew that Susanne would look after her as he'd asked. He hoped that she would get over her fear of making a mistake or saying the wrong thing so that everyone would see the same things in her that he saw, and come to love her almost as much as he did. He knew she'd made a huge sacrifice in leaving her life and her family to be with him after they finished their year together in Australia. He grinned into his beer as he recalled telling his brother that he'd met a girl.
"Don't tell me she's a surfer girl?" Timo had said. "At least one of you needs to have your wits about you."
"She's a teacher, actually, from Cape Town."
"Cape Town? Where's that?"
"Africa. South Africa."
"Good God, Michiel. Could she be any futher away from Germany?" Timo inhaled. "Wait, so this call is your way of warning me that you're in love? You've never been this serious about someone before."
"When you meet Kate, you'll understand why."
"Brother, I haven't spoken English since I left school."
Mickey chuckled. "You'll pick it up again. Or she'll teach you."
"Like hell she will!"
"Hey, Mickey, are you going for burnt steak today, or what?"
He looked up from his beer and saw the flames licking the rib-eye. "Sorry, sorry."
Kate's head hurt. It was hard for her to concentrate on the conversations around her, especially when they happened simultaneously. Although it was easy to tune in to one person at a time, she found actually following what they were saying took more effort than she was used to. On more than one occasion she wanted to contribute to the conversation but, by the time she collected enough words to express her thoughts, they'd moved on to another topic and the opportunity was lost. She was relieved when Mickey pulled up a chair beside her, squeezed her arm and exchanged a few words with her in English. She slugged her wine and tried to look busy as she dished up her food and passed the plates along for others to help themselves.
"So, Kate, how are you liking living Germany? Is Michiel treating you well and showing you that we're more than the sum of our stereotypes?"
During the laughter, her brain caught up with the question, translated it and she eventually caught the joke. But then her mouth wouldn't move. She blanked on every word she'd ever learnt in German and the panic rose up her neck in a flush as she felt everyone staring at her, waiting for a reply.
"Of course he is, Heinz," said Susanne. "He's brought her here to socialise with only the best people."
More laughter. Kate gave Susanne a grateful smile. She took a deep breath and spoke slowly, halting after every sentence to let more words gather in what she hoped was the correct grammatical order. "Yes, very much. I like Germany and I have learn that there is many things to see and make here. Mickey is a good guider and I am so glad to be here in this day."
"That was very good German," said the man to Mickey's left.
"Yes, only a few mistakes," agreed Susanne.
"But who is 'Mickey'?" piped up the host, failing to hide his grin.
"It is he..." Kate forgot the word for 'nickname'.
"I got that nickname in Australia," said Mickey. "The Aussies have a hard time saying 'Michiel', so that's what I was called."
"Yes, but Kate can speak German so well now that she can say your real name, not so?"
Kate laughed. "I try."
The conversation moved on to Hollywood films, politics, climate change, John Wayne's African safari, the generation gap and rotary-style dialling mechanisms on old telephones. Kate was happy to listen and let the high-talkers run circles around her with new-to-her vocabulary, verbal tics and expressions, and wordplay that sometimes left her puzzled. After he'd finished eating, Mickey draped his arm around the back of her chair and feeling the warmth of his arm on her back was reassuring, especially because more wine meant more talking and more talking meant faster talking, making it hard for Kate to keep track of everything that was said.
They'd been there for four hours and, while the light outside didn't reflect the lateness of the hour, Mickey knew Kate was beginning to wilt. Her eyes showed her exhaustion, but she was a good sport, being as active as she could in the conversation and even contributing - sometimes in English, sometimes in German - on occasion. He took the gap when Susanne shooed everyone outside so that she could clear away the plates, and asked Kate if she was ready to go. He knew her answer without having to hear her words. He made quick work of the goodbyes and promised they would stay longer next time. Kate hardly had the energy to wave goodbye before she passed out in the passenger seat. He was so proud of her, and he knew exactly how she felt. Those first days in Australia had made him wonder if he'd done the right thing to choose the land Down Under over a working holiday in the Swiss Alps. It had been Kate that made him stay, and he was glad he had.
Somehow, against the warnings and odds of others, the two of them made it work. And she would get better at German, just as he'd got better at English. Besides, what made Kate different to every other woman he'd ever met was that she didn't merely try to understand his words or get him to talk about his feelings. She'd looked past all that and seen the language of his soul: the fears, the worries, the history, the joys, the dreams and the love that was the sum of his parts. For that reason, he knew he'd love her until the end of time.
The sound of her own snores woke Kate. Mickey was still driving, tapping the steering wheel in time to a song only he heard. She smiled. She'd survived the barbecue, and he was still by her side. She sat up and twisted her body to face him.
"Michiel, ich liebe dich."
He denied it afterwards, of course, but they both knew there were tears in his eyes when he replied, "I love you too, Kate."
"I'm guessing she thinks we've arrived?"
"Yeah, but do you see it?"
"Keep going. It's probably behind those trees."
A farm house crept into view and number 19 shone from a mirror mosaic on the verandah. Kate could see a handful of people seated around the table. "Showtime."
Mickey brought the car to a stop and turned to look at her. "Ende gut, alles gut." He kissed her lightly on the cheek before getting out to greet their host.
All's well that ends well. Kate unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car.
It took a few moments for her brain to adjust to the change in language, but she found she was able to say simple sentences with relative ease. Mickey got caught up with the barbecue process, so she found herself sitting at the table with the other wives and girlfriends. The host's wife - Susanne, if memory served her - was generous in the conversation and took care to make eye contact and speak slowly and clearly for Kate's benefit. After twenty minutes, she began to relax and even laughed along at the jokes. Wine flowed and appetisers were passed around; it occurred to Kate that food, drink and laughter were a few of the universal languages she knew.
Mickey made a point to check in on Kate while he helped the other men manage the meat and monitor the flames. She seemed to be enjoying herself and he knew that Susanne would look after her as he'd asked. He hoped that she would get over her fear of making a mistake or saying the wrong thing so that everyone would see the same things in her that he saw, and come to love her almost as much as he did. He knew she'd made a huge sacrifice in leaving her life and her family to be with him after they finished their year together in Australia. He grinned into his beer as he recalled telling his brother that he'd met a girl.
"Don't tell me she's a surfer girl?" Timo had said. "At least one of you needs to have your wits about you."
"She's a teacher, actually, from Cape Town."
"Cape Town? Where's that?"
"Africa. South Africa."
"Good God, Michiel. Could she be any futher away from Germany?" Timo inhaled. "Wait, so this call is your way of warning me that you're in love? You've never been this serious about someone before."
"When you meet Kate, you'll understand why."
"Brother, I haven't spoken English since I left school."
Mickey chuckled. "You'll pick it up again. Or she'll teach you."
"Like hell she will!"
"Hey, Mickey, are you going for burnt steak today, or what?"
He looked up from his beer and saw the flames licking the rib-eye. "Sorry, sorry."
Kate's head hurt. It was hard for her to concentrate on the conversations around her, especially when they happened simultaneously. Although it was easy to tune in to one person at a time, she found actually following what they were saying took more effort than she was used to. On more than one occasion she wanted to contribute to the conversation but, by the time she collected enough words to express her thoughts, they'd moved on to another topic and the opportunity was lost. She was relieved when Mickey pulled up a chair beside her, squeezed her arm and exchanged a few words with her in English. She slugged her wine and tried to look busy as she dished up her food and passed the plates along for others to help themselves.
"So, Kate, how are you liking living Germany? Is Michiel treating you well and showing you that we're more than the sum of our stereotypes?"
During the laughter, her brain caught up with the question, translated it and she eventually caught the joke. But then her mouth wouldn't move. She blanked on every word she'd ever learnt in German and the panic rose up her neck in a flush as she felt everyone staring at her, waiting for a reply.
"Of course he is, Heinz," said Susanne. "He's brought her here to socialise with only the best people."
More laughter. Kate gave Susanne a grateful smile. She took a deep breath and spoke slowly, halting after every sentence to let more words gather in what she hoped was the correct grammatical order. "Yes, very much. I like Germany and I have learn that there is many things to see and make here. Mickey is a good guider and I am so glad to be here in this day."
"That was very good German," said the man to Mickey's left.
"Yes, only a few mistakes," agreed Susanne.
"But who is 'Mickey'?" piped up the host, failing to hide his grin.
"It is he..." Kate forgot the word for 'nickname'.
"I got that nickname in Australia," said Mickey. "The Aussies have a hard time saying 'Michiel', so that's what I was called."
"Yes, but Kate can speak German so well now that she can say your real name, not so?"
Kate laughed. "I try."
The conversation moved on to Hollywood films, politics, climate change, John Wayne's African safari, the generation gap and rotary-style dialling mechanisms on old telephones. Kate was happy to listen and let the high-talkers run circles around her with new-to-her vocabulary, verbal tics and expressions, and wordplay that sometimes left her puzzled. After he'd finished eating, Mickey draped his arm around the back of her chair and feeling the warmth of his arm on her back was reassuring, especially because more wine meant more talking and more talking meant faster talking, making it hard for Kate to keep track of everything that was said.
They'd been there for four hours and, while the light outside didn't reflect the lateness of the hour, Mickey knew Kate was beginning to wilt. Her eyes showed her exhaustion, but she was a good sport, being as active as she could in the conversation and even contributing - sometimes in English, sometimes in German - on occasion. He took the gap when Susanne shooed everyone outside so that she could clear away the plates, and asked Kate if she was ready to go. He knew her answer without having to hear her words. He made quick work of the goodbyes and promised they would stay longer next time. Kate hardly had the energy to wave goodbye before she passed out in the passenger seat. He was so proud of her, and he knew exactly how she felt. Those first days in Australia had made him wonder if he'd done the right thing to choose the land Down Under over a working holiday in the Swiss Alps. It had been Kate that made him stay, and he was glad he had.
Somehow, against the warnings and odds of others, the two of them made it work. And she would get better at German, just as he'd got better at English. Besides, what made Kate different to every other woman he'd ever met was that she didn't merely try to understand his words or get him to talk about his feelings. She'd looked past all that and seen the language of his soul: the fears, the worries, the history, the joys, the dreams and the love that was the sum of his parts. For that reason, he knew he'd love her until the end of time.
The sound of her own snores woke Kate. Mickey was still driving, tapping the steering wheel in time to a song only he heard. She smiled. She'd survived the barbecue, and he was still by her side. She sat up and twisted her body to face him.
"Michiel, ich liebe dich."
He denied it afterwards, of course, but they both knew there were tears in his eyes when he replied, "I love you too, Kate."
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