Shame

pigeons are called in Latin.’
    ‘Animals aren’t my strong point, but if you have some body part you’re not sure about, I’m sure I can help you.’
    She could hear how it sounded the instant the words came out.
    ‘I mean, tell you what it’s called in Latin.’
    She could feel herself blushing, and that was certainly something out of the ordinary for her. She could see that he noticed it too and that it put him at ease.
    ‘My grandfather had a pigeon roost when I was little; he kept carrier pigeons. I used to stay with him and Grandma in the summertime, and I was always allowed to help out in the pigeon roost. Feed them, let them out when they had flight training, band them, everything really. It was a whole little science in itself.’
    He seemed to sink into pleasant memories, and she took a moment to study him. He really was a beautiful person.
    ‘When I say that Grandpa had a pigeon roost, I mean that he really lived for those birds. Grandma may not always have thought it was so great, but she let him keep them. You know how a carrier pigeon finds its way home?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘They follow the magnetic fields.’
    ‘Oh really? I thought they navigated by the stars, I read that somewhere.’
    ‘Then how do they find their way in the daytime?’
    ‘Well … I haven’t stayed up nights thinking about it.’
    The waiter cleared the table, and they assured him that the food had been delicious and that they didn’t want dessert but would like a cup of coffee. Monika had almost forgotten the pigeon lesson when he suddenly brought it up again.
    ‘Do you know why they always fly home and don’t fly off somewhere else?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘Homesickness.’
    He leaned forward.
    ‘They stay together for life, a pair of pigeons. They’re faithful to each other the whole time, so no matter where you let one of them loose, it will always fly back home. One of Grandpa’s pigeons had apparently flown into a high-tension wire, because its legs were gone when it returned, but it still came home, by God, home to its life partner.’
    She pondered his story. ‘I almost wish I were a pigeon instead, at least if you ignore the part about the legs.’
    He smiled.
    ‘I know. When I was little I used to think that when I grew up one day in some terribly distant future and met my wife, it would feel just like that, like a sort of magnetic field. That was how I would know I had chosen the right one.’
    She brushed away some invisible crumbs from the tablecloth, because she felt like she wanted to ask but at the same time she didn’t for the life of her want to seem too pushy.
    ‘So was that how it was?’
    ‘What?’
    She hesitated a bit, because she realised that she didn’t really want an answer. Then she fidgeted with her napkin a bit.
    ‘When you met your wife.’
    He took a gulp of wine.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    She could feel the disappointment in her stomach. The way it contracted when she realised that he was married. One of those cowards without a wedding ring. She never got involved with married men.
    ‘I felt the magnetic field, I really did. But the part about the wife is too soon to say.’
    Another waiter interrupted the moment and asked if everything was all right. They both nodded without taking their eyes off each other, and he quickly withdrew.
    ‘So now you probably have a better understanding of my behaviour there on the platform. Since it was the first time I ever felt that magnetic field, I just had to do something about it.’
    What a strange man she had met. On the way here she had been open to the possibility that they might spend the night together. As the evening went on she grew more and more doubtful. Not because she didn’t want to anymore, but because she felt that she wanted it too much. But when the matter was finally mentioned, it was his decision.
    ‘I don’t think I’ll ask you to come home with me tonight.’
    She stood quite silent. They had stopped under the awning outside the restaurant to keep out of the rain.
    ‘This isn’t something I want to fritter away. It feels much too good for that.’

    She had never met anyone like Thomas. They said good night and he promised to call her the next day, but his first message appeared on her phone after only eight minutes. That night the keypads on their mobiles grew hot with use, the art of communication reached unimaginable heights, and she found herself lying there smiling to herself in the dark when