SIDEWAYS IN LOVE

NIGHT SWIM

The following Saturday, Sam finds himself getting a little tired of the garden. He can’t find anything to do and in his restlessness, he swings from one activity to the next.

Disturbed by this myself, around noon I suggest that we could go to a lake for a swim, which he immediately agrees to and starts packing. In order to show him the grassland in all its beauty, I decide against a bathing lake in the area and opt for a dam in the Thuringian Forest.

Avoiding the crowded, swimmable shore, I guide Sam, who’s behind the wheel and cursing the gearshift as usual, around the lake until we find a dirt track that leads toward the water. When we can’t go any further, we park the car in a sea of sunflowers and walk the rest of the way.

After a few minutes, we stand in front of a plant border, behind which lies the water.

At least that’s where we suspect it starts. Sam, carrying the picnic basket and a blanket, finds a path through the bushes and disappears from view. At his call that it looks okay and is just a little muddy, I follow the path as well, ducking under dry branches and fending off mosquitoes. On the other side of the bushes, my shoes are flooded with brown water. I’d keep walking to where the reeds c***k and shake, but I’m too busy slaying the hundreds of mosquitoes that sit on my bare arms and legs, feeding on my blood. There’s no hope of getting rid of the critters, so I curse and let Sam know I’m going back and finding a spot on the lake I can reach without getting eaten.

Sam catches up with me as I’m back scratching my legs in the sea of sunflowers.

“Were there mosquitoes?” he asks in amazement, bending down to look at the swollen bites on my legs.

“Ouch! Really a lot.”

“I didn’t notice a single one.”

“Yes,” I reply grumpily, looking down at his legs. “They were too lazy to rummage through your hair. Why bother when hairless limbs are right here? And then they jumped at me.”

Looking for another way to the water, Sam turns and seems to have an alternative route. At the sight of the nettle field, I shake my head resolutely.

“It would finish my skin off. Do you have any idea what kind of plants these are? Or don’t they grow in Central Park?”

“Oh, right. It’s those things.” Sam scratches his head and looks from the nettles to me and back. Then he asks me to wait and goes exploring again, starting in the field of stinging plants. Without making a peep, he crosses it and disappears into the dense green of the bushes and trees that surround the lake. Five minutes later he’s back without a picnic basket or blanket and is beaming all over his face because he has discovered a wonderful and secluded bay.

Before I know it, he’s picking me up - at my current 150 pounds and growing by the minute - and carrying me, one arm under my knees, the other behind my back. Quite classic.

If Luisa knew where I was at the moment, she would probably throw up her hands over her head and preach to me about the fact that pregnant women need extra rest, especially during the last month. In other words, you should lie around and wait for it to start. I still have two weeks until my due date.

I would rest, but since I’m just lugging around a big bump in front of me and otherwise almost as mobile as before, I’d never dream of deliberately getting bored. Especially not since I’m out with Sam today.

He sets me down in a tiny bay, into which the branches of the bushes enclosing it protrude. Wild grass, parched by the heat, covers the ground. Where the water begins, the earth becomes stony. We startle two brimstone butterflies, which emerge from the grass and flutter away along the bank.

Sam spreads out a blanket. I take snacks and drinks from the basket. We lounge in the sun and imagine what life will be like in two weeks.

“There’ll be lots of colourful rompers hanging on the clothesline.” I consider and have the picture crystal clear in my mind. “The light green onesie with Noah’s Ark on its stomach hangs between the light blue one with the elephant and the lemon yellow one with the lion.”

Sam’s mental image of the clothesline is even more vivid. “Next to the colourful romper suits that are happily blowing in the wind are my T-shirts that Paul threw up on.” He lifts his index finger. “I’ll tell you one thing, if he throws up on my Yankees t-shirt, then something’s going on.”

“Just don’t put it on,” I giggle, popping a grape in my mouth.

Suddenly I realize that we both see each other in everyday life with the baby. I would love to know why he takes this for granted – after all, he’s not the father and has no obligations to me – and to remind myself that New York is where his actual life, his parents, job, and friends are. With every day that Sam is here, I like to think less about the fact that he won’t be anymore, but the idea that he’ll stay is simply unrealistic.

That being said, I don’t want him staying to do me a favour, let alone to avoid shirking the responsibilities he has assumed indefinitely.

There’s only one reason why he shouldn’t, but saying it is dangerous, if not manipulative, to say at the moment - despite the feelings that are there and can hardly be ignored anymore. But feelings are moody creatures that often change their nature depending on sunshine and rain.

Is it a situational fallacy if I believe Sam is perfect? Perfect for me?

I love this feeling of security that he gives me. I feel incredibly comfortable with him. With him, I’m just Hannah, whether I’m wearing a dress, a nightgown, or a comfy t-shirt. In turn, Sam is simply Sam. Humorous, entertaining, attentive, charming. Sam is an emotional man and sometimes a real challenge.

To take my mind off things, I tell him about the warning Luisa gave with a happy smile that seemed paradoxical to me because of her words. She said that life changes radically with the birth of the first child and absolutely nothing is the same as before. I don’t want to believe or accept that. Sam also thinks it’s unlikely.

“You shouldn’t lose yourself,” he points out. “That’s what happens to parents who forget that they have needs themselves, or who completely put their needs before their child’s needs.”

He pulls his sunglasses from his pants pocket, puts them on, and looks over the lake. We can hear the hustle and bustle of the opposite bank from here. “Of course, you have to make compromises, but not to the point of forgetting yourself. It’s not good for you or your child.” Because I don’t reply, he turns to me. “Don’t think about it too much, honey. You’ll probably do everything right, instinctively.” He begins to undress. “And now I’m going for a swim. Are you coming with me?” I shake my head. I prefer to keep the airy white dress I’m wearing for a while longer. At least until the opposite bank is less populated. Meanwhile, Sam follows the t-shirt with Bermuda shorts and stands up. I watch with some surprise as he pulls the shorts off his hips.

“I’ll try a German speciality,” he grins and throws me a look over his shoulder.

I can’t help but stare at his butt. Although we share a bed, we don’t undress in front of each other or walk around naked.

“What speciality do you mean?” I mumble absentmindedly, surprised that he’s thinking about food. “Pork knuckle with sauerkraut?”

“Pork knuckle with sauerkraut?” Sam makes a face. “That sounds preposterous. Nudist, I mean.”

He tosses his sunglasses onto the grass and sprints into the water. I almost regret a little that his butt disappears in the water... and with it the sizeable thighs... and a little later his slightly muscular upper body along with the strong arms that have dragged me here.

Hannah Hönig, pull yourself together! I admonish myself and hold my breath to suppress the tingling that is spreading like wildfire in my abdomen.

Sam swims to a small island in the middle of the lake and turns around. In the last hundred metres he switches from front crawl to backstroke and stands up as soon as the water depth

becomes too shallow. The great view, which I was just gradually being deprived of, I now promptly get back – the front view, however.

Sam smiles when I put my own sunglasses on. “What’s the matter, honey, am I making you feel insecure?”

“Absolutely not,” I call out to him. “I just want to be able to stare at you inconspicuously, that’s all.”

“Nothing else?” He snorts and brushes back his wet hair. “Then I hope you like what you see?”

Of course, I like it. In fact, the closer he gets, the better I like it. His wet skin shimmers in the sunlight. His muscles flex with every step.

“Why do you hope so?” I ask boldly, forbidding myself to look at the space between his legs. It has the same effect as trying not to think of the Eiffel Tower when someone says Eiffel Tower. You really can’t do it.

Back on the bank, Sam is with me immediately. I want to back away, but the tingling is getting more urgent. Water drips from his dark hair, leaving wet spots on the fabric of my dress. It runs in streams from his shoulders down his arms.

“Because you like me,” he whispers.

As I watch his gaze change, the amusement fading and the green darkening, an alarm goes off inside me.

“Sam…” I murmur, scooting back and tugging madly at the last remaining sanity.

My tone and the moving back make him pause. His mouth stops a few centimetres from my mouth. It almost hurts a little to see how his gaze becomes familiar – the only thing new is the trace of disappointment that is now in it. I can’t move, watching as he gets up and pulls on his shorts.

Without a word, he sits down next to me, pulls a book out of the picnic basket and opens it. Sam likes to read autobiographies best. His current reading is that of Miles Davis. He borrowed the book from our city library. I also have a book with me, a parenting guide that Luisa pointed out to me, but I’m too confused to focus on it. A silly nut, I scold myself.

I would have wanted it, Sam would have wanted it. So why did I have to stop it? What I need right now is some advice on time and how to turn it back.

Indulging in my quiet grief, I chew on the crackers and Emmental cheese I brought with me and watch how the light changes from minute to minute. With the dawn of the golden hour, a contemplative silence settles over everything. The opposite bank gradually empties. The lake calms down and shimmers invitingly. The silhouettes of the trees on the island are reflected in the water.

Two swans fly overhead, and as they descend and change posture, I draw Sam’s attention to them.

He looks up from the book. We watch in silence as first one swan, then another, land with admirable grace in the cool waters, rearing up and flapping its wings theatrically. After the plumage has been straightened, they swim side by side to the island.

Sam reads on. When I say “That was wonderful,” he responds with:

“Yep, that’s right.”

An hour later we only share the lake with the swans, a few dragonflies buzzing in from the nearby reeds, and frogs croaking far away in the swamp where the mosquitoes are.

When I finally mentally put aside the depraved moment between Sam and me and really start to enjoy my surroundings, absorbing its beauty and getting energy from the stillness, Sam puts the book down.

“Let’s go home!” he says, and without waiting for my consent, he gets up.

In no time at all sunscreen, snacks and phones are stowed in the backpack and his book follows. Sam wades into the water to get the chilled bottle of soda there.

I walk to the shore, driven by an inner voice that has turned off the light in my mind. When Sam sees me, he hesitates and wants to walk past me. I put a hand on his arm and say, “Sam…” without any doubt in my voice, but rather asking to be forgiven. My heart skips a beat when he looks at me.

In a split second his hand is on the back of my neck and he’s so close to my side, his face so close to mine I could count the stubble on his chin.

Then he kisses me. Not begging, not as if asking for permission, but as if he were releasing a longing with the touch of my lips. Longing that soon turns into desire.

His hand on the back of my neck digs into my hair. The other wraps itself around my waist, pulling me closer to him and rubbing my back hard, clenching the fabric of my dress in a fist and then releasing it. When my consciousness is halfway back to me, I realize I’m doing the same. My hands are all over Sam. They slide over his warm skin and feel the firm muscles.

Our kiss deepens. Controlled by the increasing desire for each other, our tongues play and our teeth nibble. Sam’s hands slip under the hem of my dress and rest on my butt. Without breaking the kiss, he takes a step towards the water and guides me with him. Sometimes it washes over our feet, sometimes we stand in it up to our calves. Farther and farther into the lake, we tumble.

Sam frees my mouth to pull the dress over my head. It flies to the shore in a high arc and I nestle against him again. I need him as close to me as possible. I want to breathe in and taste him, feel his touch.

A shiver prickles my skin as Sam’s lips descend onto my neck. He strokes my back, opens my bra and slips the straps off my shoulders. He also throws the bra ashore and pushes me further into the water, which now reaches up to my round stomach. From my shoulders, his hands wander to my breasts and enclose them like cups. In order not to miss a moment of his arousal, I hold Sam’s gaze in mine. I ruffle his hair and pull him in for another kiss. My breath catches as he touches me between my legs, and my hands are suddenly in a hurry. They pull down Sam’s shorts and Sam does the same with my panties. Now it doesn’t matter where the clothes end up. We leave them to the water.

Sam picks me up, brings my centre over his and holds me tight. I wrap my arms and legs around him, anchor my gaze in his again and let happen what should have happened long ago.

Our underpants must have been swallowed up by the lake forever. But who needs underpants? Since it is fresh without sun, we wrapped the blanket around us. We watch the sky turn dark. The swans are on the island. The frogs are silent and even the dragonflies seem to have retired for the night.

Sam sits behind me, hugging me and resting his chin on my shoulder. His warm breath caresses my skin, his hands over my stomach.

“I think we woke Paul up,” he murmurs.

“I can tell,” I reply, blowing a mosquito off Sam’s upper arm. “What must he think of us now?! They must be crazy making waves like that!”

“Hm, honey, I can make waves like that all over again. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about making waves with you since I’ve known you.” He nibbles at my skin to indicate the need, but stops and lets me know his new thought: “Well, you’re the first person he heard. But I’m the one he saw first.”

“Sam!” I laugh, half indignantly, and poke him. “Don’t say something like that! He didn’t see anything in the bubble he’s swimming in.”

“Wait,” Sam decides, snuggling closer to me. “If he comes into the world and sees me and says, Oh, you again, we’ll know.”

Sam wants to be there at the birth?

The thought that scares me at first calms me a few seconds later. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and focus on Sam’s heartbeat, which I can feel on my back.