The Lilac Bottle

Prologue

The train rumbled down the tracks. I resisted the lulling motion of it, my jet lag trying to get the best of me. I had to pay attention. I could not miss my stop.

The ticket man came by. He asked me for my ticket. I couldn't understand him, but I knew what he wanted. I had seen him collect the tickets from others. I handed him mine. He said something to me, assuming I understood him. I shook my head.

"Tut mir so leid," I explained. "Aber ich verstehen das nicht."

"Kannst du Deutsch?" He asked, slower and clearer.

I decided to try the dialect Auntie taught me. "A bissel," I said, pinching my thumb and forefinger close together. "Nur a bissel."

The ticket man's face brightened. Instant friend, just like Auntie said. Good. I needed that to help find my stop. I pointed at my ticket.

"Ich weiss nicht...I don't know where my stop is," I said, resorting to English since I had used up my limited knowledge of the Austrian dialect. And normal German.

"Des passt schon," he replied with a smile. This I knew; it was a favorite phrase of Auntie's. It is okay. "I will help you," he added in English.

I nodded and smiled tiredly. "Danke schon."

"Bitte schon." He left to continue collecting tickets. I leaned my head against the window and focused on the passing landscape, trying not to sleep. I failed. Luckily, my friend the ticket man shook me awake at my stop.

"Here," he said, pointing out the window. I followed his finger. Sure enough. He helped me gather my things and get off the train.

"Alles gute!" He called out as the train left. I waved to him. Alles gute. Good luck.

I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder, along with my knapsack carry-on. I set off down the hill through the small Austrian town I had never visited, yet had grown up in. I had the map memorized by heart. All the pictures Auntie showed me, the ones I pored over as a child, finally clicked into place; there was that little Gasthaus she claimed made the best schnitzel ever. There was the white steeple of the Catholic church where she attended mass with her friends. I didn't need to walk around back to know that the graves were covered with fresh flowers planted on them, graves the townspeople visited every Sunday to pay respects to their passed loved ones. How colorful, how full of life they were, compared to the cemetery I was used to back home. The smell of the flowers wafted down the hill to me. It reminded me of the little perfume bottle in my bag. I pressed on, trudging up the next hill.

Auntie had always said that it was quite a hike to the dairy farm from the train station; doable, but difficult. She wasn't joking. Hiking while jet-lagged is not something I would recommend.

Up the second hill, one of the houses caught my eye; white-washed, two story, flowers on the balcony, barn attached to the side with an open court-yard. Even in the darkening twilight, I knew. I pulled the photo out of my pocket, just to be sure. Yup. That was the one.

I approached the house, the smell of warm cow manure enveloping me. Not my favorite smell, but Auntie had loved it. She had loved this place. I paused in the courtyard, the realization of it hitting me. I had made it. I had actually come here. But I hadn't knocked the door yet; there was still a chance to turn around. Even though I had traveled so far, there was a part of me that did not want to knock on that door. Before I could change my mind, I lurched myself forward and slammed my fist on it three times.

He opened the door.

He was a bit different than how I had known him; his blonde hair used to be thicker, and not so flecked with grey. He had been trimmer, but now had that typical Austrian gut all the men eventually get from incorporating beer into their daily diet. Also, he moved, rather than remaining frozen in a photo. But his face was still kind, and very, very quiet. Auntie told me that he was never prone to anger, and I could see this was true. He did not seem surprised to see me.

"Are you Hans?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Yes," he replied.

We stared at each other, complete strangers, and yet we weren't. Now that I was here, I couldn't think of the speech I had prepared. I blinked and tried to bring it to mind. I am the niece of Marie...you loved her once, and she loved you. No. Too dramatic.  

"Do you know who I am?" I finally asked.

"You are why Marie did not return to me," he said.Blunt.

"Yes," I said, faltering some, "I am. How...how did you know?"

He shrugged at my confusion. "You look very much like your aunt. She mail me many photos."

"Oh. Well, my mother and she were twins, you know, so..." I trailed off. 

"Please come in," Hans said, stepping aside. "You must be tired. I will show you to your room."

I jolted a bit. I had planned to simply introduce myself, then head back to town and stay there. "No, no, really, I just meant..." I blinked. I hadn't planned this, this open invitation. 

Hans waved his hand as he turned inside to the stairs. "Please, stay. This is a...how you say...a holiday place. People make holiday here, to visit my farm. You may also make a holiday here."

His translation was amusing. I smiled and found myself following him. "Danke schon," I said as he opened a bedroom door for me.

"Bitte schon." He offered a somewhat awkward grin and left.

I didn't even bother to turn on the light. I shut the door, kicked off my shoes, and flopped into the bed. Though it was only 6 o' clock or so, I could feel my eyelids fall shut. I lay there a moment, and then whispered, "Auntie, we made it. I brought you back."